Archive of Our Own

Fingers tangled in his hair the moment he woke - or perhaps they had been there hours longer. He was too tired to be able to tell. The motions were small anyway against his head, gentle as the mess of curls was tugged and toyed with. Not in a way that might wake him up, merely little movements that said hey, I’m here, don’t worry.

He smiled and without opening his eyes, he murmured, voice rough from sleep, “You trying to braid my hair over there, Rapunzel?”

A snort greeted him, light but close enough to his ear that the breath that wafted over the back of his neck made him squirm. A kiss replaced it quickly after, an apology he was more than happy to accept. “Excuse me for trying to brush out this rat’s nest of yours. I think Rapunzel would’ve been horrified if she could see it.”

“She’s also not real,” Richie teased. He cracked an eye open and glanced over his shoulder. Everything in him settled when he locked gazes with Eddie, stomach fluttering as it whispered a familiar it’s you. Three years and he still hadn’t gotten used to that sensation. Maybe he never would.

Eddie’s hair stuck straight up at the back, forming a strange sort of halo over his head alongside the sunlight pouring in through the blinds, liquid-like and slow, honey shading tanned shoulders and cheeks and giving Eddie a wholly inhuman glow. If not for the twist at the corner of Eddie’s mouth and the disastrous bedhead (twins, Richie wanted to coo, look, Eds, we’re twins), it could’ve been a cinematic moment that sent middle-aged white mothers swooning.

“You drooled on my chest last night,” Eddie said, clearly not getting the memo about their big movie moment, and Richie burst out laughing, choking on his own spit as he leaned back so he could look directly up at Eddie. And accidentally up his nostrils, but he didn’t mind that too much.

“Thought you liked all my bodily fluids, baby?”

“When they’re inside your body and not making my chest slimy, yes.” Eddie rolled his eyes. “No one wants to wake up to a puddle of drool on them.”

“A whole puddle?” Richie widened his eyes, mouth falling open in mock surprise. “Maybe sleepy me just likes you. Maybe he was trying to get you nice and wet before - ”

“How are you already like this when you just woke up?” Eddie demanded, but he was half-laughing as he spoke, shoving Richie in the shoulder and failing to hide that undeniable fondness glittering behind dark eyes.

Richie remembered when he once had felt uncertain of that gleam, had questioned Eddie softly, nervously, asked if he was sure. If he was sure of Richie. Because yes, Eddie had been the first to confess, kissing him before they were supposed to catch their respective flights home after that shitshow in Derry, but Richie couldn’t be sure. Why would Eddie want him, of all people, when he had a life, had other people who cared?

Eddie had not hesitated this time. He took Richie’s face in his hands, brow furrowed and jaw set as if it had been carved from stone to immortalize the determination blazing through every bone in his body.

He said, “Why would I want anyone else when I have you?” And that had been the end of it. Simple as that.

Well, not simple, he supposed. But Eddie took care to remind him he was here by choice every moment he could, and Richie tried (at first tentatively, then with every fiber of his being) to do the same. It was nice to be dissuaded from that doubt with just a look to see Eddie was here, he was here with him, and every day since his heart thawed a little more.

Eddie didn’t fix him, nor vice versa; they just learned to heal together and that was enough.

Speaking of healing, though. Richie’s eyes darted down to Eddie’s left arm, to the what remained above his elbow, old scars weaving like pale Lichtenberg figures, sparks leftover from the lightning of a lightning rod of Eddie’s own making. He still remembered the scream of pain, the laughter that leaped from his lips after they’d killed the clown and Eddie whispered in his ear, “We did it,” like a mantra. Whether he was reassuring a shaking Richie of this fact or simply repeating it to solidify the bravery Richie knew had been simmering for twenty-seven years in his heart, he wasn’t sure. Maybe a bit of both.

“Hey,” Eddie mumbled now, and Richie’s eyes shot to meet his. He must have zoned out because the teasing had bled from Eddie’s features. “Anyone tell you it’s rude to stare, asshole?”

Richie chuckled despite the itch in his chest that craved to reach out, kiss the scarred skin before Eddie could put on his prosthetic. “Many times, but it’s never stuck, baby.”

“Wonder why.” Eddie leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead, beating Richie to the punch as always. Maybe he just knew him too well. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“We got any pancake batter?”

“Just enough. Why?”

Richie waggled his eyebrows. “You got any batter ideas?”

That earned him another shove, this time one that could’ve sent him flying clean off the bed if Eddie had put any actual force behind it. Which he never would, of course, but Richie liked the fact that he was strong enough to do so, that he could still show some physical strength against the fact that his mother and ex had deemed him too emotional, too fragile, too weak.

Richie caught his hand in his as Eddie started to rise and when he was given a look, he gave one right back. “Can’t we just sleep for a little longer?” he whined.

“You literally mentioned pancakes two seconds ago and I’ve been up for two hours, sweetheart.” A thrill chased its way down Richie’s spine at the pet name, which Eddie definitely caught and smirked at. “Excuse me for being hungry. Also, I’ve had to pee for just as long, so I am getting up, you gremlin.”

“Not fair,” Richie called after him as Eddie pried his hand out of his grasp, moving to attach his prosthetic on the bedside table. Gold and silver caught the sunlight and his breath wavered in between the rays with it as Eddie switched his wedding ring to his left hand where it belonged, as he always did in the mornings.

He once asked Eddie why he didn’t simply leave it on the prosthetic and a beet red Eddie just muttered, “I want to feel it’s there.”

(He didn’t blame him. It was the same instinctive reaction Richie had after a nightmare, though he got those less and less as the years carried on; he reached for his ring, for Eddie’s hand so he could feel the band underneath his own, and whether Eddie was awake or not to register the touch, it calmed the tremors of blood, bone, gone, he’s gone.)

Now as he watched Eddie disappear into the bathroom with a laugh, Richie buried his smile into the blankets around him, burning and searing with the love in his chest. He didn’t mind the ache, not anymore.

He lingered in the sheets and the smell of his husband for five more minutes before the urge to pee caused him to wriggle out of bed too in search of a shirt, listening to Eddie humming as he brushed his teeth a room over and the warmth began to soothe its throbbing ever-so-slowly.

Richie checked his phone and smiled wider. Plenty of time left. Good thing too, because he really did plan to savor those pancakes and he knew the second Eddie came out of the bathroom he’d eye the kitchen knowingly too.

Plenty of time, he assured himself, and he tucked away his phone in the pocket of his sweatpants before plodding his way to the kitchen, humming along to the same song his husband was beginning to tunelessly sing in earnest now.

***

Autumn was less harsh since they’d moved out of Chicago to a quieter suburb. It had been a compromise since Eddie knew he wasn’t staying in New York and Richie’s old Chicago apartment was barely lived in. He still could picture the way Eddie’s features went blank as he gazed around at the relatively tidy space, trying to envision whatever life Richie must have had pre-Derry 2.0. The trepidation in his tone when he’d said, “It’s not what I expected.”

The suburbs were nice. In the years they’d lived here, they’d never had an issue with neighbors or noise or even safety. It made a great change from the wariness Richie and Eddie had experienced in their respective cities, though of course, it wasn’t perfect. People sometimes parked in front of their driveway, a teenage boy once tried to egg their house as a prank, and Eddie had gotten tackled by someone’s Great Dane once on his way to get the mail.

But with Richie slowing down on tours and Eddie working from home, it was different. A weird, but good different. And he still thoroughly enjoyed autumns in Illinois, especially when it meant he could weasel his fingers through Eddie’s for warmth.

“For someone who is a walking furnace,” Eddie grumbled, blue beanie pulled low over his ears and forehead, “you spend an awful lot of time trying to steal my body heat.” Much as he complained, he didn’t dare pull away, lacing their fingers tighter together.

“I can’t help it. I’m a leech.”

“That what you’re going as for Halloween this year?” Eddie jabbed back, and Richie’s resounding laugh startled a couple on their way past them down the sidewalk.

“Why? You think I got my costume together on time? Think it’s missing anything?”

“Nah.” Eddie squinted at him as if he were studying him for a science project, slow and careful. “You’re too beefy for a leech.”

“Beefy?!” Richie squawked.

“What else am I supposed to call you with those fucking shoulders? You’re a beefy guy!”

“Wow.” Richie wiped a tear from his eye, though it was of course due to how hard he was attempting to suppress the laughter shaking his whole body. “What a compliment. I’m gonna call up Bev and go, ‘Hey, you know what my husband called me today? Not sweetheart or baby, no, no, get this. I’m his beefy guy.’“

“Two kids have already asked me what my Halloween costume is,” Eddie said suddenly, as if this were a smooth subject change from what Richie would absolutely tease him about for the rest of the week.

“What’d you tell them?”

Eddie opened his mouth and closed, almost hesitantly. Richie watched him for a minute, then had to glance away so they didn’t teeter off the sidewalk, coming upon the playground near the edge of their neighborhood. A few kids raced about and called to one another, running to slide down the slide over and over until their legs ached. The wind blew colder through the trees and Richie gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze when the latter shivered.

“And you get on me about not layering,” Richie said quietly.

“I am layered.” Eddie huffed, his breath coming out in a puff. “I’m like a goddamn onion I’m so layered.”

“Baby, are you trying to distract me with a Shrek reference because it’s sort of working.”

“No.” Eddie nodded toward the bench a few feet away from Richie and he steered them that way. Much as he bemoaned being dragged to sit, to stay in place sometimes, Eddie’s lungs hadn’t ever fully recovered from the damage down under Neibolt. He bitched about it often, ran like his life depended on it when he went out for runs in the morning, fought tooth and nail as he only ever could, but Richie knew Eddie would never push himself too far. Not on purpose, at least. He could always tell when he was too out of breath and needed to sit, and Richie had begun catching on before the nods half the time.

They sat down and Richie tucked Eddie into his side before Eddie could protest on principle (this principle being “I refuse to acknowledge I’m cold so go to hell or I’ll punt you into the sun myself, dickface”). He snorted when Eddie melted against him within moments, his left hand covering their still-intertwined hands as if to shield them from onlookers. With his shades of blue and gray set against the wood of the bench, against the scarlets and marigold hues of the leaves above and below their feet, it was difficult to shake the sense that Eddie was grounding him just by sitting near him. Grounding him with a little touch, his side pressed to his, the metal of his prosthetic cool but not uncomfortably so over their fingers.

Then again, they’d always grounded one another while in turn egging the other on, through jumping into the quarry to running from alien killer clowns to waking up in the morning tangled up together. Maybe it was a little codependent, but Richie knew neither of them would have it any other way.

“So, what’s up with Halloween?” Richie asked, keeping his voice casual as possible as he rested his chin on top of Eddie’s baby blue beanie.

A sigh reached him, though he spotted it first in the white puff that again rose from Eddie’s lips. “I dunno. I told them I wasn’t dressing up because I didn’t have a costume and like, I think they understood because I’m fucking over forty and no offense but I’d kill you myself if I had to wear a couples costume of, I don’t know, the Potato Heads.”

“Damn,” Richie groaned. “You’re spoiling all my surprises for later.”

“Oh, don’t even joke about that.”

“And I was going to be Mrs. Potato Head too, what a shame. Could’ve rocked that potato sack.”

Eddie’s head shook under him and he realized he was holding in a laugh. “I’ll make you wear it for Christmas instead of those terrible Christmas pajamas, don’t worry.”

“Fuck yes.”

“But anyway.” Eddie sighed again. “It got me thinking. It’s been a year.”

Richie tried not to stiffen, the grin on his face twitching. Thank fuck Eddie couldn’t see it. “A year?”

“Since last Halloween.”

“Ah,” Richie said.

“Ah?”

“Ah.”

Eddie started to tilt his head up to look at Richie but Richie shifted so the angle was awkward. Didn’t mean he didn’t get a good look at those Kaspbrak eyebrows rising steadily toward the edge of his beanie. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were going to elaborate. Last year was Halloween, yes. That is usually how October 31st works. It’s an annual date.”

The eyebrows rose higher. “Well, duh. It’s not a leap year in October.”

“Can you imagine?” Richie put on his best announcer voice and leaned down. “This year is the first in four years that will have a Halloween! What a miraculous thing!”

“You sound like Jay Leno.”

Richie wrinkled his nose and recoiled. “Why is Jay Leno the one announcing breaking news?”

“You’re the one who sounded like him!”

“That’s the meanest thing you’ve ever said to me, Eds.”

Eddie squirmed against Richie and pulled their hands firmly into his lap. “Baby.”

“Love you too.”

“I was calling you a baby.”

“Oh, I know.”

They watched the kids yell at one another on the platform by the slide, a girl with pigtails stomping her feet as she tried to wiggle her way to the slide ahead of what seemed to be her brother. It reminded him of his childhood, of pushing past Eddie to get to the closest game in the arcade, of getting wet willies from Bill and Eddie, of Stan dunking him in the quarry when he teased him about a girl he liked in school. His chest ached dully with the echo of nostalgia for the kids they’d once been.

Much as he didn’t miss Derry, he did miss childhood. He missed the flurry of summer, the joy of snow days and his friends there through it all, close until they were ripped from his side by fate and maybe a bit of magic.

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Eddie asked. His voice was soft now and he didn’t try to meet Richie’s eyes, staring at the children as their yells grew louder.

“Remember what, Eddie?”

“Last year?” He bit his lip and chewed on it. “Or you’re pretending not to.”

“I remember Halloween,” Richie said carefully.

“I’m not talking about the holiday, Rich.”

“I know.”

Eddie breathed in, deep and unsure. “Then what - ”

“It’s getting dark out,” Richie declared, though he didn’t quite talk over Eddie as much as answer a question he hadn’t finished yet. He wrapped his other arm around Eddie’s shoulder and kissed the top of his head, letting himself grin against the fabric. “You wanna finish this conversation back home?”

Eddie eyed him as he leaned away far enough to maintain eye contact, dark eyes narrowed as he gripped Richie’s hand tighter. Whatever he saw in Richie’s face made him nod cautiously. “There a reason we need to finish it there when we just got here?”

“It’s cold out,” Richie said. “And I know you’ll want to see those trick-or-treaters even if you insist you don’t like kids.”

“Fuck off.” Eddie pursed his lips. “Fine. But you’re handing out the candy first while I make hot chocolate. No ifs, ands or buts.”

“Fine by me, Eddie baby.” The pet name earned him another weird stare, but Eddie said nothing more as they stood and made their way toward home, the cries from the children on the playground becoming fainter with each step.

***

It was an accident when it happened.

Well, not entirely an accident. He did blame Eddie for a good portion of the mishaps that made up last Halloween, even if that blame was given out of love.

First, they’d woken up and Eddie tried to make breakfast, only to set the microwave on fire for a good ten seconds before they put it out. Then came the revelation that they’d forgotten to put out candy for the trick-or-treaters, which Eddie deemed a heinous crime and was extremely distraught over until Richie promised to run to Target to get a whole bag of those fuckers for the kids, see, no harm done?

And then Stan and Patty arrived out of nowhere for an impromptu two-day visit and Stan brought up the inevitable to Richie while he was taking a walk around the neighborhood with him, in the midst of describing Eddie’s ongoing playful feud with one of the moms down the street.

“Surprised you haven’t done it yet,” Stan mused, a thin but amused smile crossing his face as he glanced at a couple of fairy princesses sprinting down the road past them. The longing on his features knocked Richie off-kilter for a moment before he could process the words; Stan and Patty had been trying for adoption for months at that point and the naked yearning painted on every inch of his face sent a jolt through him. If anyone deserved to adopt after everything, it was Stan and Patty. Bev had been asking to help them look for weeks now, but Patty politely refused her every time.

“Done what?”

Stan sent him a look. “You said in August that you were going to do it before Christmas.”

That took another couple moments to process, in which Richie began to resemble a turnip, his ears burning. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Richie began, and Stan groaned louder than he had since he was a preteen boy sick of Eddie and Richie grappling with each other in front of his face in the clubhouse.

“This is the third time you’ve chickened out, Richie.”

He glared at Stan. “That’s not what this is!”

“Uh-huh.”

“We had Ben’s mom’s funeral the last time,” Riche pointed out. “It was bad timing!”

“And what’s stopped you since?”

They both knew the answer to that but Richie settled for a longer glare, burrowing deeper into his coat. He’d forgotten gloves before they left the house and now he was regretting it.

Stan knocked his shoulder gently against Richie’s without meeting his eyes. “Look. I’m not trying to embarrass you.”

“I’m not - ”

“Richie.” It was a quieter plea this time, a listen to me that always caused him to clam up and Stan knew it all too well. Stan sighed when Richie did indeed go silent. “I’m not saying you have to do it right now. It’s been two years. It took me three before Patty accepted my proposal.”

Richie paused, his steps faltering as they passed a blown-up pumpkin in someone’s yard. “Really?”

“Really.” Stan shook his head. “Not that Eddie will - I mean, it’s Eddie.”

“That’s assuming he will.”

Another look. “You seriously think he won’t?”

He didn’t know how to answer that. Richie believed Eddie could say yes. He believed there was a scenario where that would happen and he would sob like a baby because never in his wildest dreams did he think Eddie Kaspbrak would actually say yes.

But that had been before Eddie kissed him in the airport years ago, eyes glistening, metal and flesh cupping his cheeks as Eddie smiled sheepishly up at him. Richie didn’t have a plan for getting this far, after all. If things never changed, he could die happy knowing he’d had Eddie regardless.

But the problem was, he did want more. He’d had his dad’s ring since Went died a year before Derry 2: Clowntown Boogaloo went down (he was still workshopping the name).

The only people he’d dared tell were Patty and Stan, partly because Patty was nosy and as blunt as Stan when it came to giving advice and there was no way he wasn’t telling Stan, who’d been the first one he came out to as a kid and an adult again in the Derry Hospital while they waited on Eddie to come out (ha) of surgery. Also, he needed someone to be his impulse control and Stan was the next best bet.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t counted on Stan urging him to actually go for it. Which was part of why he had in fact chickened out three times thus far.

“Think about it,” Stan told him, knocking his shoulder with his once more. “That’s all I’m saying.”

“It’s all I can think about,” Richie whispered, far too honest for a crisp autumn night.

Stan’s answering smile was radiant, and perhaps relieved. “Then keep thinking about it. Okay? Even if you wait a decade, he’ll still say yes. I’m promising you that.”

So, it really wasn’t a surprise when midnight rolled around and the Blum-Urises headed to the guest bedroom for the night, and Richie was left to help Eddie clean up the remaining candy in the kitchen. It wasn’t a surprise when Richie found himself staring at Eddie as he threw the melted chocolate in the trash and griped over some of the neighbors’ dogs who’d tried to make a break for their front door at one point an hour ago. Because when were they going to get a leash for them, he didn’t mind dogs at all, but there came a point when you had to watch out for -

“Hey,” Richie said, and his voice was louder than he intended in the empty kitchen, loud enough that Eddie froze and his head snapped up at once from the trash. Richie swallowed hard, the sparks of bravery in his gut dying. “I love you.”

Eddie chuckled and leaned over the counter to kiss him. “I know,” he muttered as he pulled back, laughing harder when Richie attempted to kiss him again.

“You Han Solo-ing me, Eds? I always knew you were cruel.”

“You did the exact same thing to me the other night, dick.”

“That sure is my name, don’t wear it out.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but he did relent for another kiss, his thumb brushing over Richie’s jaw as he hummed into the kiss. Richie swallowed again, keeping his eyes shut as he pulled back, not wanting to see the look on Eddie’s face.

“Marry me?”

There was a beat of silence. Then two. Then a few more, and Richie let his eyes flutter open, hoping Eddie couldn’t see the way his hands shook.

If Eddie did, he didn’t show it. He was instead gaping at Richie’s face, eyes searching every feature as if he’d find an answer to an unspoken question. His cheeks had gone pink, and he didn’t think it was from the cold. Richie realized Eddie was wearing his old college sweater and his heart flew to his throat.

“What?” Eddie’s response came breathless, barely audible.

“Marry me?” Richie asked, craved, yearned.

“You…” Eddie blinked. Swallowed like Richie had done a moment prior, though he had no clue what Eddie was swallowing back. “You’re not even on one knee.”

Richie couldn’t help it. He laughed, the back of his right hand pressed to his mouth to stifle the sound so he didn’t wake Patty and Stan, tears springing to his eyes. “That’s what you’re concerned about right now?”

The pink spread high on Eddie’s cheeks, reaching his ears. “Well,” he said, his voice unsteady, “I mean, are you serious?” There was a plea he could hear underneath his words, and something about it tugged the rest of Richie’s nerves clean out of his chest.

He fumbled in his jacket pocket for the velvet box he’d carried around since the New Year and grunted as he got to one knee. As he looked up, he could see Eddie’s eyes widening further, see the intake of breath as Richie revealed the box and opened it.

“Needy bastard,” Richie joked through a strangled sob.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie choked out. Then, when Richie did indeed stay quiet for a moment too long: “Richie.” Another plea, this one obvious as Richie was probably going to fuck up his knees from kneeling too long on the hardwood floor.

“I don’t have some big speech,” Richie warned.

“I don’t fucking care, I don’t need any of that.”

His heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”

Eddie laughed wetly even as Richie half-heartedly shushed him. “When have any of our speeches or grand gestures gone well, Richie?”

“True. You did almost throw up on me during our first date when I tried to kiss you.”

“That was you. And are you really bringing that up now - ”

“Eddie, you sonuvabitch,” Richie said, the words nearly a shout over Eddie’s rising volume, and somehow that got them both laughing again. “Fucking hell. I love you to the moon and back and all that shit.”

“I’m just going to grab the ring at this point.”

“No spoilers,” Richie said in the sternest tone he could manage without bursting outright into tears. “Haven’t gotten to the best part yet, honey.”

Eddie licked his lips and Richie pretended not to see him wipe his eyes too. He did let himself smile, though, goofy as it felt when Eddie towered over him, the two of them shaking and exhausted with melted chocolate on their fingers. He was going to have to wipe down the box later, wasn’t he?

Maybe not. He didn’t give a shit about the goddamn box.

“I don’t know what else to say,” Richie admitted softly. “You know I love you. I - I know you love me, but… Well, there’s never going to be anyone other than you, Eds. Never has been, never will be. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Rich.” His name came out involuntarily, it seemed, but Eddie didn’t appear to notice it had even left his lips. His eyes were locked on Richie’s. He hadn’t looked away.

And with that, the last of the nerves dissipated.

“Will you marry me, baby?” Richie whispered.

“Of fucking course, you goddamn asshole,” Eddie said and he said it so sweetly Richie finally burst into tears as Eddie slammed onto the hardwood floor beside him to kiss them away and set aside the ring box so he could kiss him properly. “On fucking Halloween of all days,” and Eddie had to pause to laugh over this. “You really chose a holiday for this, huh?”

“To be fair, I was just trying to get it out before Christmas,” Richie said, and that made Eddie laugh so hard they did, in fact, wake up Stan and Patty, but neither of them could care about anything. A meteor shower could’ve come crashing upon the Earth, wrecking their house and backyard, and they wouldn’t have batted an eye. And they wouldn’t have to ever again.

***

The moment Richie Kaspbrak opened the front door, he felt rather than saw Eddie go slack against him, his hand loosening its grip on his cold fingers for an instant. Richie bit back a grin as he shut the door gently behind them, not taking his eyes off of Eddie’s face.

“What is this?” Eddie’s tone was unreadable, but he could see the tick in his jaw, his poor attempts to regulate his breathing.

“Halloween.”

“No, I…” Eddie breathed out, shaky. “This wasn’t here when we left.”

Richie glanced at the orange banner hanging in the entryway before the kitchen, the hasty Happy Halloween! with tiny bats that looked more like cats with spikes attached to their bodies. Patty had done a decent job at hanging it in time, he had to give her credit there. “What, you mean you didn’t put that up before we went out?”

“Richie.”

“Eddie Spaghetti.”

His husband made a strange sound, sort of like a croak. “What is this?” he repeated with the same urgency as before.

“Well, why don’t we check it out?”

They left their coats by the door and Richie took Eddie’s hand once again, to which the latter didn’t hesitate, however he was feeling about this odd sight awaiting them. Richie rubbed his thumb over his knuckles in an attempt to ease his mind if he was actually worried, and led them into the kitchen.

Eddie’s jaw fell open and that strange croak returned. In the half an hour they’d been gone, their sparse Halloween decorations, which consisted of a pair of fuzzy black cat statues and several plastic pumpkins that Richie insisted make up a rainbow to display above their cabinets, had been moved to the counter to frame the largest stack of candy bags either of them had ever seen. Richie had never known there were enormous Snickers and Skittles bags before, but several of them were flopped over on the counter, mostly to frame the largest bag of M&M’s and a sign the Losers had all signed weeks ago.

It read: Happy One Year (Of Proposing), You Two! :)

He hadn’t thought they’d get so simply to the point, but it worked. Richie’s own breath caught in his chest just looking at it, at the rainbow of signatures dotted around the big letters that he was certain it was Ben’s neat scrawl.

“I think they went a little overboard on the candy,” Richie murmured, eyeing the massive bags of Snickers that looked dangerously close to toppling to the floor, “but surprise?”

“I told them to get the candy,” Eddie said softly.

Richie’s grin vanished. “What?”

Eddie met his gaze for the first time since they’d entered the house and Richie realized the croak was a laugh, recognized the delight and amusement staring back. “You idiot,” he said, without a trace of disdain, “I wanted to surprise you. I should’ve thought of a damn sign, though. And a banner.”

“That was all Patty,” Richie confessed, and fuck, he was going to cry. “She hated our decorations.”

“Of course she did.” Eddie cupped his face the same way he had in that crowded airport years ago, eyes bright as they had been and then some. “And here I thought you forgot for a minute.”

Richie scoffed. “You seriously think I’d forget one of the best moments of my life? Eddie. Baby.”

“You smeared chocolate all over my face and hair,” Eddie reminded him.

“You did the same thing! And you got it on the ring before Stan forced you to go wash up.”

“Touché. At least I’m not the one who proposed on Halloween.”

Richie heaved a lengthy sigh that fooled neither of them, and he wrapped his arms around Eddie’s middle just so he could bonk his forehead against Eddie’s and make him laugh. “Alright there, Kaspbrak. Pick on the Trashmouth, why don’t you?”

“I don’t think I will,” Eddie said. His breath ghosted over Richie’s mouth and they both smiled at the same moment as if realizing the lack of distance between them for the first time. As if it were a shock after all this time. “Though, I would like to kiss my very thoughtful husband. I mean, we wouldn’t be here without him.”

“Oh, so you want to make the Trashmouth cry instead.” Richie shut his eyes and listened to his husband breathe against him, nosed the crook of Eddie’s neck even as Eddie yelped at how frigid his nose felt. “Well-played, Eds.”

“I love you.” The words were a mumble against his ear, a gift only for him to hear, an affirmation, a promise. “So much. You know that, right?”

“I love you too. More than anything.”

Eddie sucked in a breath and the doorbell rang. They both whined simultaneously and Richie chuckled in the hesitant silence that followed.

“You gonna get that?” Richie asked.

“Me?”

“You got the candy bowl ready!”

“And I believe someone said it was ‘fine by them’ if they handled candy duty first.” Eddie pulled back to glare at him, eyes narrowed almost to slits.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” When Eddie kept glowering and the doorbell rang a second time, Richie shook his head, pecking Eddie on the lips before prying himself out of his husband’s grasp. “These damn kids and their sugar addictions these days!”

“Do not swear in front of the kids either or so help me, I will push you into oncoming traffic, Kaspbrak!”

Richie laughed the rest of the way to the front door but he couldn’t tamp down on his smile the whole night, and if he noticed Eddie smiled just as wide, he didn’t say a damn word.