Archive of Our Own

Richie hated Comiccon.

Well, that's not entirely true. He's sure he'd love getting to attend it as a guest; getting to indulge his inner nerd, empty his wallet on a bunch of shit he'd forget about in a week, maybe even dress up as spider man and scare his friends by attempting to scale the wall. Those sounded like memories he'd love to make.

But as one of the 'talent', he simply hated being there.

It wasn't that his fans weren't great, in fact, they were probably the best fanbase a C-list horror star could ask for, really. And the people who ran Comiccon were some of the coolest people he'd ever met, in fact if it weren't for his manager setting this all up a few years ago, he would have never met the director of NYC Comiccon and his very best friend, Beverly Marsh.

So, he supposes when he gets down to it, there isn't much to complain about. But his anxiety had tangled its roots around him long ago and made events like these insufferable.

He used to love attention, craved it like he craved water or food or mediocre one night stands you regret the next morning. But as he's grown, he'd begun to feel guilty at his meet-and-greets. Richie hadn't been honest with the world about who he was. The 'Richie' that his fans met was the carefully crafted image that his team agreed was marketable. He toned himself down, kept his jokes to a minimum, and didn't talk about his sexuality. In his manager’s words, ‘he was trying to get taken seriously as an actor, not a comedian, and not a gay-icon’.

(Though Richie isn't quite sure why either of those would be a bad thing.)

But he'd already agreed, signed the contracts in blood when he took on his management years ago as a young, naïve boy new to Hollywood. And at this point, so many years down the line, he’d probably have to do something drastic like sacrifice a goat just to break the contract. That sounded like way too much work.

"Five more minutes, Rich." His assistant informed him, popping his head of curly locks into the backroom where Richie was scarfing down his breakfast.

Stanley Uris was the best thing to come out of his contract with Neibolt Entertainment. They'd hired him as Richie's assistant a few years ago when Richie had started getting popular among the indie film crowd, garnering him more opportunities than ever before. Stan had swooped in like an angel with his organized binders and post-it notes, sorting out Richie's overwhelming schedule like it was nothing more than a peanut-butter and jelly sandwich.

Plus, Stan was the only person on his team who was rooting for him to come out publicly. In his words, 'this is some homophobic capitalist bullshit', whatever that means.

"Gotcha." Richie said through a mouthful of muffin, shooting Stan a thumbs up in case he couldn't understand Richie's nearly barbaric sounding response.

Stan disappeared again. Off to do what, Richie wasn't sure, but once again he was left alone to stew with his thoughts and his coffee.

After five minutes was up, Richie made his way out to his booth. Stan was already waiting there, along with the director of Richie's most recent movie, Mike Hanlon. Behind them was a huge banner from the movie, featuring Richie covered in a disgusting amount of corn syrup blood, with the title of the movie splayed across him.

Demon Clowns from Outer Space. It was catchy.

"You're late." Stan said as a greeting.

"What? You said five minutes, it's been-"

"Seven." Stan stated.

Richie looked to Mike for support, but the man just shrugged, a bemused look on his face.

Richie sighed, taking the seat between them.

"Sorry Stan." He offered the apology sincerely, but Stan already seemed to have moved on to the next thing.

He slid a stack of posters to Richie along with a sharpie, and Richie and been attending these events for long enough to know what to do. He popped the cap and immediately started signing them, starting a new stack next to him so Mike could add his signature as well.

"How long until they open the doors?" Mike wondered aloud.

"They open in ten minutes." Stan supplied, having the whole day's schedule memorized. "You'll both be expected to stay here until 11am, then Richie you have a panel about 'the horrors of acting in horror', after that you'll both have an hour break for lunch, come back here for another two hours, then Mike has a panel about 'breakout directors', and finally you'll both spend one more hour here and then you're free to go."

"Oh, is that all." Richie said sarcastically, his brain already reeling at the thought of how exhausted he would be at the end of the day.

Mike looked impressed, eyeing Stan up with a look that Richie couldn't quite pinpoint.

"Wow, I should hire you as my assistant."

Stan responded with a blush and Richie was finally able to pinpoint that look.

Was everyone allowed to be gay except him???

He groaned outwardly, earning questioning looks from his counterparts, but ignoring them in favor of finishing the rest of his coffee in one gulp. He was gonna need the caffeine if he was expected to get through today.

Ten minutes passed by in a flash, and before Richie had enough time to process, the room started filling up. It didn't take long for the first fan to show up at his booth, practically vibrating with excitement.

The next handful of fans were the same, as were the next, and the next, and the next. All wide smiles and bright eyes, eager to meet him, take a picture, chat for a moment. He didn't mind it, despite the nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he had to bite back a joke or keep up with the calm exterior he'd agreed to.

He managed to make it through the morning with only a few slips. The first was when he’d met a young girl, no older than five who was dressed up as Elsa. Her costume didn't fit in with the rest of the costumes around her, but she couldn't have seemed less bothered. As far as she was concerned, this was supposed to be a princess con and everyone else just missed the memo.

Her father was actually the fan, leading her along to Richie’s booth while she’d occupied herself with the matching Anna barbie doll she’d brought. Richie tried to focus, exchanged niceties with the dad, but she quickly stole Richie's attention as she walked Anna across the table in front of him.

Richie couldn’t help it; he’s a kid at heart. He’d instantly slipped back into his usual playful demeanor, making immature jokes that made the young girl light up with giggles. They ended up discussing the temperature of Olaf’s melting point (which Richie thought was grim, before remembering that they were standing in front of a poster where he was covered in blood and holding a severed clown arm), to which the girl insisted ‘It would have to be like, a million-tee degrees!’.

The second time he slipped was when Beverly walked up to his booth, surprising him with a fresh new coffee (doctored exactly how Richie likes it). As soon as he saw that familiar red bob, be bounced up from his seat.

"Bev! Light of my life!"

Richie was glad he was between fans, so he was able to divert all his attention to his best friend.

"I didn't know if I'd get to see you today." Richie admitted, his sadness at that prospect evident.

"I decided I could take a few minutes away from things to come see you." Beverly pulled him into a hug, one that he gladly reciprocated.

"Luckily a few minutes is all I need." Richie teased with a wink, before remembering that he had to keep up his act. "Uh, to see you, I mean." He cleared his throat.

His recovery was weak, but his fans didn't seem to notice, so he counted that as a win, even though he couldn't really win at this game.

He got to catch up with Beverly for a few minutes before her walkie-talkie alerted her to an issue in another division. Richie couldn’t quite make out the crackly statement amongst the rest of the noise around them, but he’s pretty sure he heard the words ‘ant-man’, ‘funnel-cake’, and ‘butt stuck’. So, he would let his imagination run with that one until he could ask Bev about it later.

The third time he slipped, however, was completely and utterly out of his control. If the other two were accidents, this one was a full-on calamity.

Richie may have a bit of celebrity status, but he's still only human. So, when presented with the most attractive boy he's ever seen, he's gonna react the way any human would: by losing all cognitive ability.

The boy in question bounded up to him just as Richie's lunch break was coming up. Him and his friend seemed to be the last two people in line, the Comiccon employee having cut people off a half hour ago in preparation for their lunch break.

His friend gave Richie a polite smile before turning his attention to Mike, which left Richie the chance to give all his attention to the boy before him.

"Hi!"

God, even his voice was cute. Richie's head blanked as he tried to think of a charming greeting, one that would somehow magically woo the pants off this guy. He must have stared for an unsettling amount of time before he finally spoke, the cogs in his brain working overtime.

That time clearly did him no good, because what ended up coming out his mouth was little more than nonsense.

"Me. You… that’s me."

The guy's face fell in confusion for a moment, until Richie's completely incomprehensible comment seemed to click. He looked down at his clothes with renewed excitement, nodding before he even spoke.

"Yeah! Uh, Camp Wise is one of my favorite movies, and your character is also my favorite. Not that your other movies aren't also my favorite, honestly, your whole filmography is my favorite. Sorry, wow, I'm so embarrassing, uh, I'm sure you hear this a lot but I'm your biggest fan. Like, really. Not in a creepy way, like I totally respect your boundaries, I just really like your work, and, yeah."

Richie's mind echoed with his words, but he'd be a liar of he said they didn't fade into the background as his eyes focused on the costume this guy had worn. It was almost an exact replica of the costume Richie's character had worn in his first movie, an 80's slasher flick. The boy had nailed it down to the fine details, like the beauty mark on his chin that the makeup department had decided on last minute, and the cigarette burn on the collar his character had procured in the first scene.

He was him, but better.

Richie was impressed. But what was even more impressive was how he was pulling it off. He donned little red track shorts exactly like those Richie had worn, only Richie's legs had never looked like that.

He realized a little too late that that he'd been staring again, and the boy before him had stopped talking at some point. He cursed himself internally for already having absolutely bombed his whole 'woo the pants off this guy' plan and struggled to think of something to fill the silence.

"Camp Wise was actually my first movie, did you know that?"

Not the smoothest, but also not the worst. Richie could work with that.

"Well, yeah it was your first official film, but not your first time acting, right? You were in a short film a year before that?"

He posed it as a question, even though Richie was pretty sure this boy would have a better idea of what Richie had eaten for breakfast than even he did.

"You've done your research." Richie stated, impressed. The guy seemed to glow in response, and Richie used it to fuel himself going forward.

"What's your name, cutie?"

The boy turned into a tomato right before his very eyes; Richie considered it a step in the right direction.

"Eddie." The guy, Eddie, stuck his hand out awkwardly, elbow stiff and movements robotic. It was strangely adorable.

Richie took his hand and shook it, trying to ignore the way his skin tingled as he pulled away.

"It's nice to meet you, Eddie." Richie said genuinely.

The boy rested his hands on his fanny pack (another great detail of the costume) and shifted from one foot to the other.

“You have no idea how nice it is to meet you.” Eddie replied, his eyes flitting all over Richie’s face as if he was trying to memorize it.

Just as Richie was about to speak again, Stanley patted Richie’s shoulder.

“You’ve got your panel in five minutes, you should start making your way over now.”

When Richie turned back to Eddie, the man’s face had fallen, his body deflated of its previous liveliness. Richie felt guilty, incredibly guilty. If he was being honest, he’d much rather stay and talk to Eddie than sit in front of a couple hundred people and talk about his career. One sounded like heaven while the other sounded like hell on steroids.

“I’m sorry-” Eddie cut him off before he could finish, and Richie was grateful. He’s not even sure what direction his words would have gone if he’d continued.

“Don’t be! I’m excited to watch you speak.”

Richie appreciated that Eddie was trying to cover up his disappointment, but he wished he could convey that he felt the same. Instead, he pushed back from the table and gave Eddie one last smile before disappearing behind the curtain that led to the back hallways.

As Richie walked through the corridors, trying to locate the area he needed to be, he tried to shake off the gnawing feeling that he’d messed up. He should have asked for Eddie’s number, or at least insisted he come back later. Sure, that may have completely gone against his management’s insistence to ‘hide his gayness’, but he could have lied and said he just wanted to talk… sports. Sports is a straight guy thing, right? No homosexual agenda there.

Besides, Eddie probably wasn’t even gay. And Richie wasn’t supposed to be gay, so what was he even fretting about? Nothing more could have come from that interaction than what had already occurred. Richie just had to move Eddie to the back of his mind, write him off as nothing more than a fan he’d met once (jesus, he’d barely even talked to the guy!), and move on.

Okay, moving on was going to be really hard if Eddie insisted on sitting in the front row of his panel and looking at him like that, with those big doe eyes and pouty lips.

Richie managed to focus throughout the panel… mostly. He caught himself looking at Eddie far more than was probably subtle, but he hoped if anyone noticed they would just write it off as him being a nervous public speaker.

Richie spoke about his acting technique, his favorite part of being in the horror genre, what other genres he’d like to breach in the future, and his favorite role so far. He was joined by three other actors, only one of whom he’d worked with before, Angela Costello. It was nice having a familiar face up there with him, if for no other reason than to give him someone else to focus on.

In the last twenty minutes, the floor opened to the fans. A microphone was passed around as they directed questions to the various actors on stage. Richie got the least questions, which he was grateful for, because it gave him more time to internally panic every time his gaze would draw itself back over to Eddie.

Just as things began to wrap up, and Richie was trying to calculate how many glances at a person was considered creepy, the microphone was passed to none other than the one person Richie was actively trying to avoid looking at: Eddie.

“My question is for Richie Tozier.” Eddie spoke into the microphone, as it was handed off to him by a Comiccon employee he vaguely recognized.

“What’s your favorite type of dog?”

The room erupted into laughter, and Eddie smiled along, understanding that his question deviated from the kinds of questions most people asked at these things. Richie couldn’t contain his own smile; he thinks Eddie’s might be contagious.

“Easy, yorkie.” Richie answered into his own mic.

“Why’s that?” Angela asked, looking at Richie with bemusement.

“Well, they’re tiny, but still manage to have so much personality. They’re bold and confident, and protective of those they care for. They can be a little loud, but I don’t mind that.” Richie laughed, softening before continuing. “And they thrive on attention and love, which is perfect, because I’ve got a lot of that to give.”

The crowd ‘awed’ in unison, but Eddie didn’t join in. He seemed enraptured by Richie’s words, holding on to each syllable as though Richie was talking directly to him, which if he were honest, he kind of was. He couldn’t care less if the rest of the people in this room heard his answer, he only cared about it because Eddie cared about it. He would talk about just about anything if it made Eddie smile the way he was now.

The panel coordinator wrapped it up after that, thanking everyone for coming and leading Richie and the others off stage. Richie moved along as ushered, even though his mind was screaming at him to turn around and look for Eddie. He felt like the physical embodiment of having a devil and an angel on his shoulders; one was telling him to throw caution to the wind and run after the boy who’d made his legs turn to jelly, and the other was reminding him that his reputation, image, and good standing with his management were on the line.

Luckily for him, his mind was made up not ten minutes later when he exited the building for his lunch break and saw none other than the object of his affection sitting unassumingly. The angel took a nose-dive off his shoulder.

"Well well well, fancy meeting you here." Richie blurted as he moseyed on up beside him, startling Eddie enough to make him jump. Richie only felt bad for a moment, until he saw the grin light up Eddie's face once he saw who had spoken.

"Richie! Hi!"

"You leaving so soon? There's still..." Richie checked his watch, confirming the time. "five more hours of Comiccon left."

"Oh, yeah, uhm I actually only really came to see you." Eddie admitted, his cheeks a dusted pink.

Richie's heart did a couple somersaults before he could breathe again. He felt like a first grader who had just gotten a valentine from their crush and was living off the high.

"Well,” Richie braced himself before letting the words tumble out of his mouth. “then I better make your trip worthwhile. Have lunch with me?"

It was a bold move, asking a fan out for lunch, but Richie hoped that it was the first step towards breaking down that barrier. If Eddie felt what Richie felt, and god Richie hoped he did, then maybe they were already moving in the right direction.

"Wha- me? Oh my god, don't let me ruin your lunch break, really it's okay-"

"If this is about your friend, he's more than welcome to come along." Richie added quickly. He wasn't exactly stoked at the prospect of having to share his time with Eddie with someone else, but if it would make Eddie feel more comfortable, Richie would do just about anything.

"Oh, Ben? He's actually got a day chalk full of activities in there. I just tagged along for you."

Richie's cheek twitched as it threatened to blind Eddie with another smile.

"Well, I'm glad you did." Richie said honestly. "So, what do you say, Eddie spaghetti. Want to tag along to lunch too?"

Eddie popped up from the bench and nodded eagerly, his face only faltering slightly as he added a stipulation. "Only if you promise to never call me that again."

"Now, Eddie, that would make me a liar."

They walked around the neighborhood for a while before deciding on a small place called "Penny's". It was a 50's style diner, decked out with black and white checkered floor and cherry red walls. Stepping inside felt like stepping into a different decade, save for the patrons inside who were clearly dressed for the present day.

Richie was blessed to be able to say he didn't get recognized too often, so he was usually fine to go about his business as usual. But because they were still close to the convention, he chose a booth near the back and sat facing away from the rest of the customers, just in case.

Eddie followed happily, taking the spot opposite him. Richie was grateful that some of the star-struck wonderment had left Eddie's eyes, leaving in its wake a much more level playing field. It gave Richie the floor to ask Eddie about himself.

"So, you seem to know a lot about me. When do I get to know about you?"

Eddie blushed, looking down sheepishly at his hands while they fiddled with the menu that had already been on the table when they’d arrived.

"I'm really not that interesting." Eddie tried to deflect, but Richie wasn't so easily deterred.

"Sure you are. I already know you have great taste in movies, and movie stars." Richie winked, causing Eddie to flush even deeper. If he kept up like this, he was going to start camouflaging into the wall behind him. "What else is there to know about Mr. Eddie...?"

"Kaspbrak."

"Kaspbrak." Richie echoed, liking the way it sounded coming out of his mouth, like it belonged there.

"Well, uh, I'm a pharmacy assistant currently-"

"Sexy."

Eddie chuckled and rolled his eyes, continuing on. "But I'd really like to get into business some day. I think it would be really cool to own my own company."

"What would this company do?"

Eddie smiled sheepishly. "I haven't figured that part out yet."

"Well, you're still young." Richie lowered his tone and gave it a croak, imitating that of an old man. "You have plenty of time to figure it out."

Eddie laughed along with Richie's voice, despite them both knowing it was kind of stupid and immature. However, Richie was elated that Eddie seemed to be responding well to the new sides of Richie's personality that his fans normally didn't get to see.

“What interests you about owning your own company?” Richie asked, wanting to learn everything he could about Eddie. “I mean, besides the obvious.”

“Well, I think it’s exactly those obvious reasons that interests me, actually. I kind of grew up always being told what to do, who to be, how to act… I’d like to be in charge for once, to not have to be under someone else’s thumb all the time. Honestly, I don’t even care what the company is, I just want to feel like I’m controlling my own life. We could be a fucking limousine rental company and I’d still be happy.”

“I’d certainly hire you. Have you sit in my driveway and look pretty, maybe bring me to a red carpet event or two once I’m rich and famous.”

Eddie scoffed. “Pfft, once. As if you aren’t already.”

“Oh Eddie, just wait until you see the filth and squalor I live in. These guys don’t even pay me enough to move out of my apartment.”

Richie hadn’t realized what he was saying until the weight of his insinuation settled heavy between them. Richie had accidentally, not so accidentally, implied that Eddie would, in fact, step foot in Richie’s apartment some day.

And that implication had implications of its own that Richie wasn’t ready to touch just yet.

He was thankful when Eddie, for the umpteenth time that day, picked back up the conversation easily after Richie floundered.

But he supposed he’d been doing pretty good for functioning on low to non-existent cognitive abilities since meeting Eddie.

"When did you know you wanted to get into acting?" Eddie asked, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.

"I kind of... Fell into it, actually?"

Eddie laughed incredulously, leaning in closer to no doubt ask follow up questions, when a waiter appeared at the end of their booth.

"You two ready to order?" She asked kindly.

Richie realized that he hadn't once stopped to look at the menu, having been too hypnotized by Eddie to give a damn about anything else. But he really should eat before he went back to work...

"Can I please have the shakin' bacon burger with fries?" Eddie spoke up, surprising Richie. He's not sure when Eddie had time to look at the menu either, though he supposes it's possible he just chose the first thing he saw like Richie was about to do.

His eyes landed on the special of the day, advertised in big blue letters, and he decided that would be good enough.

"Of course, honey, and what about you?" The woman turned her attention to Richie, and he read the menu item off to her like a badly memorized script.

"Uh, I'll have the, uh, the brunch burger? With fries? Please?"

The woman seemed amused by Richie's uncertain way of ordering but said nothing. She took both of their orders down on her notepad and then asked what they wanted to drink, which she returned with not a moment later. They thanked her before she disappeared, leaving them to their discoveries of one another once again.

“So how exactly does one fall into acting?” Eddie asked, easing them back into conversation. He let his hand rest on the table and Richie had to fight the urge to reach forward and hold it.

“I was kind of an obnoxious kid, hard to believe, I know, but I was always looking for attention. I would put on shows in my backyard and force my family to watch, I’d sing to strangers in the grocery store, literally anything I could do to get all eyes on me. Eventually my parents got tired of having a walking talking energy ball occupying all their time, so they signed me up for the theatre club in our city.”

“That sounds pretty fun, at least?”

“In theory, it should have been, but I hated it. I was suddenly being forced to share the spotlight with a bunch of other kids and my prima donna ass was having none of it. So, one day I walked up to the theatre director and demanded a bigger part, which of course, he couldn’t give me, because it wouldn’t have been fair.”

Eddie nodded along as he listened intently.

“But, he offered me an audition for a commercial he was on the casting board for.”

“Wait, you were in a commercial as a kid?” Eddie asked excitedly.

“Nope! Tanked the audition like a champ. I was way too much of a diva for my mediocre acting skills, both which cost me the job.”

“I’m sorry.” Eddie responded genuinely, his empathy palpable.

“Nah, it’s fine. I needed the reality check. After that I started taking acting classes, stuck to those for years before I actually built up the nerve to start auditioning again. And after another few years of failed auditions, I begun doing improv. That’s actually where I got the offer to be a part of that short film; some guy saw me on stage and was impressed enough to hire me. I guess after that, things sort of just snowballed.”

Eddie let out a long breath. “Wow. You’re amazing, you know that?”

Richie was caught off guard, not expecting the sudden praise. He faltered for a moment before responding.

“I mean, not really. Sometimes I feel like my career was sort of handed to me.”

“Richie, look at all the work you put in! You found something you were passionate about, and you stuck to it for years! You spent all that time training and bettering yourself, dedicated to acting. And even after you stopped going to auditions you continued to act instead of letting the rejection ruin it for you. Sure, you were offered your first role instead of having to audition for it, but you made it what it was. If it hadn’t been for your genuine talent, that film wouldn’t have gotten you anywhere. People started paying attention to you because you were good, Richie. Really really good.”

Richie’s throat had gone dry, all the moisture collecting in his palms and making the grip on his drink slip. He set the glass of coke down before he dropped it and wiped his hands on his jeans in what he hoped was a discreet move. His brain felt like mush; trying to come up with a reply was like trying to walk through mud. The only thought present was the glaringly obvious realization that he was falling head over heels for the boy before him.

Thankfully, Richie didn’t have to come up with a coherent response, because their waiter chose that moment to bring them their food.

The food was a welcome distraction. In fact, it was the best food Richie could say he’d eaten in a while. He had a tendency towards tv-dinners when he was left alone to his own devices, and though he’d sometimes have to go to fancy restaurants for business meetings, their food was just too high end for his flavor palette. This place walked the perfect middle.

“Enjoying your food?” Eddie teased, having noticed Richie’s ecstasy as he stuffed his face. He moaned in response, too occupied with chewing to notice the way that noise gave Eddie a full body shiver.

Richie slowed down after the first couple minutes, realizing that the last thing he needed on a day like today was a stomach-ache.

“Sorry, is yours good?” Richie cleared his throat, kicking himself for forgetting his manners. Though, admittedly, he didn’t really have much of any, but he at least tried to keep up with the basics; he didn’t want Eddie to think he was a total barbarian.

“Yeah, it’s delicious actually. I think I might start coming here more often, even though it’s a bit out of the way.” Eddie said.

“Whereabouts do you live?” Richie asked, curious to see how far his apartment was from Eddie’s… for research purposes.

“Williamsburg.” Eddie answered around a fry.

“You’re shitting me!” Richie exclaimed, drawing the attention of a few people around them. Eddie leaned forward quickly, shushing him despite his laughter breaking up the sound.

“Sorry,” Richie lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “you’re kidding meeeee.”

Eddie rolled his eyes amorously and Richie’s heart fluttered, so he decided to pump it full of more grease until it shut up.

“I used to live in Brooklyn Heights but it was way too expensive. I wasn’t able to stay there more than three months before I was forced to move elsewhere.”

“Good, Brooklyn Heights is overrated. I’ve lived in Williamsburg for four years and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Well, no, that’s a lie. I would trade it for Ryan Gosling.” Richie decided.

Eddie nodded, his face serious. “I would judge you if you didn’t trade it for Ryan Gosling. In fact, you should trade your apartment for Ryan Gosling, and then the two of you should just come live with me, then everyone wins.”

Richie could tell that Eddie was getting bolder, letting more of his personality out as the façade of fame he’d surrounded Richie with faded. He was loving every second of getting to know him; he hoped, absently, that he was able to do this forever.

"Do you live alone?" Richie asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"No, I live with Ben, the guy I came here with."

Richie felt a sudden pang of jealousy, strong enough to knock him out of his previous floaty feeling.

"O-oh, yeah." Richie cleared his throat, hoping Eddie was oblivious enough not to notice his change in demeanor. "So..." Richie ventured forward bravely, not fully wanting to know the answer to his next question but knowing it would hurt more if he didn’t ask. "Is he your partner?"

Eddie's jaw fell in a way that might have been comical if Richie's heart wasn't racing a million miles a minute and requiring all his attention.

"No! No, Ben isn't- we're not- no."

Richie didn’t feel any better, despite Eddie’s answer being what he’d hoped to hear. He wasn’t sure why until Eddie added on to his answer.

“I mean, I’m gay,” Eddie’s eyes flickered up to Richie’s for just a second. “But we’re not together. He’s actually been dating the same girl for years, and I’m pathetically single.”

Richie felt like he’d gone on a six hour long rollercoaster in the span of the last ten seconds, elated, then jealous, then anxious, and then back to elation. Eddie was gay, and if Richie wasn’t a complete idiot (jury’s still out), he seemed to be into Richie.

He wanted to respond with some sort of similar confirmation, in case Eddie was riding the same ride Richie’d just gotten off, but he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. How exactly does one say ‘I’m gay but I’m not allowed to be gay but not for homophobic reasons just for business reasons’. There wasn’t a coming out cake with that written on it.

So instead, Richie decided to do what he always did when he was nervous: deflect.

“So, tell me spaghetti man, of all the things in your noggin, and I’m sure there’s many, why did you ask me about dog breeds?”

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie warned, even though there was still fondness in his voice. “And, you said you love dogs in one of the interviews you did for ‘Damnation’, but I couldn’t find any other info about it online, so…” Eddie shrugged. “I just wanted to know.”

“Well, I showed you mine, time to show me yours.”

Richie loved the way Eddie looked when he blushed; it was addicting.

“I have a soft spot for Borzois.”

“Oh yeah, long boys.”

Eddie nodded along, continuing his reasoning. “They’re kind of funny looking, but in a beautiful way. They have tons of energy, like, an annoying amount, but somehow it’s charming. They’re also incredibly affectionate, loyal, smart. They’re independent, so that’s nice, but training can be hard since they tend to be a bit stubborn. But if you take your time with them… you’ll receive a love that’s unparalleled to anything else.” Eddie finished it off by popping a fry into his mouth and chewing around his smile.

Now Richie found himself blushing, though for what he wasn’t entirely sure. It wasn’t like Eddie was talking about him (although if he really psychoanalyzed himself, he’d realize he had a lot more in common with the dog breed than he might like to admit), but the tenderness in Eddie’s voice as he spoke about love made Richie want to get down on one knee and propose.

Unparalleled to anything else, he’d said… Richie took that as a challenge.

“Do you have any dogs?” Richie asked, taking the last bite of burger on his plate and washing it down with his drink.

“Ugh, I wish.” Eddie slumped in his seat, crossing his arms like an unhappy child. “My apartment doesn’t allow them. You?”

Richie shook his head. “It wouldn’t be fair to the dog; I travel too often. But I’ve convinced my best friend to give me partial custody of his dog, so when I do have extended time at home, I usually get to keep him for a week or two.”

“What’s his name?” Eddie straightened back up in interest.

“Who? The human or the dog?”

“Both.” Eddie giggled, and it sent an arrow right through Richie’s heart that made him want to snap cupid’s bow in half.

“Friend’s name is Bill, dog’s name is Pubert. Pube for short.”

Eddie made a horrified face, an incredulous laugh falling from his parted lips.

“What kind of a name is that!?”

“Uhhh, the best kind.”

“Okay, I may have found a fault in you. You have terrible taste in nicknames.”

“No one will believe you.” Richie taunted teasingly. “Tell the papers, inform the blogs, I will deny it all. I am perfect.”

Richie didn’t miss the way Eddie’s eyes flickered down to his lips, softening around the edges even as he continued to laugh.

“I mean, you are.” Eddie breathed. At some point they’d leaned closer into one another, close enough that Richie was able to notice that Eddie’s face was actually covered in a smattering of freckles, mostly hidden under a thin layer of foundation (probably worn to match Richie’s character).

“You’re pretty perfect yourself, actually.” Richie’s kept his voice low, sharing his thoughts only with Eddie.

Richie leaned in even closer, the table between them only allowing them to go so far, but their eyes locked none the less. When Richie was brave enough to let his own eyes wander down to those inviting lips, he noticed that Eddie had accidentally wiped off his beauty mark at some point while eating. Without thinking, Richie reached forward and cupped Eddie’s chin, lightly tracing the spot where it once was with his thumb.

Eddie had gone still, not even daring to breathe.

“You lost your beauty mark.” Richie mumbled, lost in a trance as he reveled over how soft Eddie’s skin was.

Eddie finally let out a long, shaky breath.

“I have the stuff to touch it up in my fanny pack.”

The statement was just funny enough to break Richie’s concentration and bubble up a bright laugh.

“That fucking fanny pack… Well alright Eds, I gotta piss and you gotta put your makeup on, so me thinks a trip to the little boy’s room is calling.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but followed Richie as he stood up and made his way to the back of the diner where the signs for the bathrooms were lit up in neon. He hoped Eddie didn’t notice the slight wobble in his step as his legs tried to recover from the jellied state Eddie had rendered them.

“So, I hate to ask, but my curiosity has won out. Why Pubert?” Eddie asked as he stared into the mirror in concentration, eyeliner shaky in his hand as he tried to line it up properly.

“It’s honestly the funniest origin story ever.” Richie grinned, eager at the opportunity to tell the story. “When Bill went to the shelter, he instantly bonded with Pubert. He knew right away that he wanted to take him home, so he began filing the paperwork. He didn’t even realize until he was done that he hadn’t asked for the dog’s name. Classic Bill. Anyway, so they tell him the dog’s name and he has this whole internal freak-out, but he’s already committed. Besides, he’s not gonna abandon his new dog just ‘cause he has a weird name, right? So, he brings Pubert home and eventually he gets used to it. Six months go by and the animal shelter calls to do a check up, see how the dog is adjusting to his new home, yada yada, and that’s when they call him Hubert. His fucking name had been Hubert the whole time, Bill had just heard it wrong . But by that point it was too late to change, he’d been introduced to the word as Pubert and that is what he would remain. ‘Pube’ is just my genius nickname for him.”

Eddie was staring at Richie, his hand hovering close to his chin but frozen.

“I’m sorry… did you just call yourself a genius for nicknaming a dog after pubic hair?”

“You’re forgiven, and yes.”

“I’m- what- no! Richie!”

“Eddie.” Richie leaned back against the sink, cocking his head to look at Eddie with a mock pout.

“You’re completely unhinged.” Eddie stated.

“Yeah, I think most actors are.” He agreed with a casual shrug, reaching for the eyeliner pencil and taking it from Eddie’s grasp. “Come here.” Richie scooted in front of Eddie, bracketing him with his thighs. The position was intimate, it should have been uncomfortable, seeing as how they’d just met a couple hours prior, but Richie felt more at home with Eddie than he’d ever imagined possible.

He held the instrument in his hand steadily and cupped Eddie’s chin just as he had earlier. Eddie’s hands fidgeted between them, unsure of where to rest now that Richie was in his space. After a moment of contemplation, he seemed to decide on placing them atop Richie’s thighs, and Richie breathed a silent hallelujah.

Richie forced his attention away from the warmth on his legs and managed to concentrate long enough to apply the fake beauty-mark perfectly. He drew back with a satisfied smile, but he was only able to admire his work for a moment before Eddie was surging forward.

The kiss lasted all of two seconds, and when Eddie pulled away, he had a horrified expression.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Fuck! I didn’t mean to-”

“No no no, please don’t apologize-” Richie’s brain, though still reeling, instinctively tried to do damage control. He wrapped his arms around Eddie in hopes of keeping him close, all the while shushing Eddie’s escalating panic.

“I don’t want you to think I’m just a crazed fan, really, I-”

“I don’t think that.” Richie cut him off authoritatively, knowing that if there was anything he wanted Eddie to retain from this interaction, it was that Richie didn’t see him that way.

“God, you’re not even gay, I’m so-”

“I am.” Richie interrupted him, his heart beating too fast to think about his management, or his contract, or really anything other than Eddie.

Eddie stilled, his eyes flickering between both of Richie’s, as if at least one of them held all the answers.

“I am.” Richie repeated, tightening his grasp around Eddie. “And I mean, fuck, even if I wasn’t, meeting you sure would have changed that.”

Eddie seemed to be struggling, Richie could practically see the cogs turning in his head.

“But it doesn’t say that anywhere online.” Eddie whispered, as if it was a secret.

“No, it does not.” Richie agreed, almost apologetically.

“So… you’re closeted?” Eddie asked tentatively.

Richie sighed, unsure of how to explain. “Not exactly. My management… they don’t want me to be public about my sexuality. They’re worried it’ll pigeonhole me, hold me back from expanding my experience if everyone just seems me as ‘the gay guy’. It’s one thing to come out ten years into your career when people have already seen you in various roles, but to come out now might result in me being typecast. Or, at least, that’s what they think.”

“That is…” Eddie mulled over his words, taking a moment before continuing. “the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Richie’s sudden laugh startled them both, but after a moment, Eddie was joining in. Their laughter grew until they were both bent over and wheezing, holding on to one another to keep themselves from spiraling completely. It felt good to finally let himself dwell in the incredulity of the situation, to have it out in the open where he could really see how ridiculous it sounded. Sure, Stan had spoken against it, and so had Beverly on occasion, but he hadn’t truly realized how much it was holding him back until he had met Eddie. Now all the false logic seemed to melt into something that reared a much uglier head.

When Richie finally began to die down, he had tears in his eyes and his heart felt full. He looked at Eddie, mouth still pulled into a wide grin that shone up at Richie like a low setting sun, and he was moving towards it before his brain had time to catch up.

This time was different. Eddie melted into the kiss almost instantly, allowing his body to mold against Richie’s. Richie’s hands threaded themselves through Eddie’s locks, wondering absently if his hair was always this curly or if he’d just styled it this way to match the character. He hoped he’d be around long enough to find out.

Eddie’s lips were soft, the kind of soft that came from always wearing chapstick. He wondered if Eddie would be put off by Richie’s own slightly chapped lips, if he’d make Richie start carrying around his own tube so his lips would be kissable for Eddie. Truth be told, Richie would do just about anything to be kissable for Eddie.

Though, Eddie seemed to think Richie was pretty kissable now, if his eagerness was anything to go by. He’d pushed himself up on his tiptoes and deepened the kiss, teasing Richie’s lips with his tongue every few moments. Richie let himself be opened up, welcoming Eddie’s tongue in along with this new dominance that made his toes curl. If he let himself think too hard on it, he was going to get hard, and he’s not sure he wants his first time with Eddie to be in a restaurant bathroom.

Well, if he had anyone to thank for keeping his penis soft, it was none other than Stanley fucking Uris, who had impeccable timing and an even more impeccable ringtone.

The song rang loudly, echoing off the bathroom walls and causing both Eddie and himself to recoil from their kiss. It was an obnoxiously loud recording of Stanley playing the flute when he was thirteen years old, with all the uncoordinated charm of a young boy trying to learn a new instrument. Richie had thought it was hilarious when he’d first made it his ringtone, unbeknownst to Stan until a few days later when Richie pretended to lose his phone in his office, giving him the perfect opportunity to ask Stan to call him so he could locate it.

The look on Stan’s face had been well worth it, and after that Richie had kept the ringtone just to remember that moment each time he called.

However, as the off-key, shrill rendition of three blind mice played out in the small bathroom, Richie cursed himself.

“Y’ello?” Richie answered, shooting Eddie an apologetic look, both for the interruption and the song that may have done permanent damage to Eddie’s hearing.

“You’re late. Again.” Stan’s monotonous voice came through the line.

“Stan my man, how many times do I have to tell you, not being ten minutes early doesn’t mean you’re la-” Richie pulled the phone away from his face to check the time and his eyeballs nearly bulged out of his head as he read the flashing numbers. “SHIT!”

Eddie looked at Richie with concern and Richie absentmindedly brought a hand up to cup his cheek, stroking him soothingly with his thumb. It was an incredibly domestic gesture, yet they both fell into it naturally.

Stan sighed on the other end before continuing. “Look Rich, I gave you some leeway for lunch because Mike said he saw you heading off with Eddie. But as much as I support your ventures into love, I’m not sure I’m ready to lose my job over it.”

“No, no of course, Stan I’m so sorry, shit, I’ll be there soon, we’re just a couple blocks over!”

“Okay, good. And Richie?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be an idiot about this. Make sure you ask for his number.”

“I will if you ask Mike for his.”

There was a long silence where Richie almost started to question if Stan had hung up, but then there was another heavy breath, followed by one word.

“Deal.”

The line really went dead after that, and Richie finally looked back up at Eddie who was still watching him intently.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asked with all the gentleness in the world. It made Richie swoop forward for another kiss, a chaste one this time.

“I was supposed to be back half an hour ago.” Richie admitted, resting his forehead against Eddie’s.

“Oh.” Eddie’s shoulders slumped, his eyes closing as he processed what that meant. Richie had to leave.

“Trust me, if I could stay here all day I would.” Richie promised, the truth falling from his lips easily. He didn’t care about being too vulnerable, he’d already been wearing his heart on his sleeve, there was no use holding it back now.

“In the bathroom?” Eddie teased, flicking his eyes back open and peering up through thick lashes.

“I’d hang out in a sewer if it meant being with you.”

Eddie crinkled his nose in disgust. “Ew, no thanks, those things are full of grey water.”

Richie smiled, enamored by Eddie’s expression. “What the hell’s grey water?” He laughed.

“It’s basically like… piss and shit.” Eddie put it plainly, his body responding with a shiver as he spoke.

“Well, I hate to break it to you Eds, but I’m not sure we’re that far off where we are now.”

Eddie twisted around in Richie’s hold, peering at the bathroom stalls that had been used to filter everything down into the sewers they spoke of, and with another shiver he spoke with finality.

“Alright, yep, let’s go.”

Richie paid for their meals as they left, tipping their waitress generously after she gave them a knowing smile. Richie waked faster than usual, trying to make up for the time he lost with quick strides. Eddie, despite his small legs, was surprisingly able to keep up. Richie made a mental note to ask him later if he’d ever been on track.

They slowed down a little as they approached Comiccon once again, the threat of splitting up causing them to drag their feet. They finally came to a stop once they were in front of the building once again, those same feet now shuffling awkwardly as they tried to figure out what to say.

There was too much to say and not enough time. Richie’s not even sure how he’d put what he was feeling into words; how do you tell someone they’ve changed your whole life in the matter of a few hours?

“Can I have your number?” Eddie blurted out, stilling Richie’s thoughts completely. Eddie’s eyes were squeezed shut, his bottom lip pulled up between his teeth and they gnawed at it anxiously. It was the exact personification of how Richie felt internally.

“Only if I can have yours.” Richie responded, hoping he sounded smooth despite his racing pulse.

Eddie’s eyes popped back open in surprise, as if he hadn’t been expecting that answer. Richie couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I had a great time today, and honestly if this was the last time I ever saw you I’d probably lose my mind.” Richie admitted bashfully.

“I feel the same way.” Eddie responded, his cheeks that same dusted pink that Richie had become addicted to.

Just then his phone began buzzing in his pocket again, a rising threat that caused him to remember that silly little thing called his job.

“Shit, right okay, I really have to go actually, but… Would it be totally pretentious if I asked you to come with me and get my number from my assistant? I’m just scared if I wait another second the sky is gonna open up and he’s gonna fly down here with giant wing and the wrath of god.”

Eddie laughed but agreed, following Richie back into the event building and weaving through people until they found themselves back at the place they first met.

Stan seemed surprised to see Eddie, but not unhappy. He welcomed them both back, Richie with a little less benevolence, but was still happy to fulfill Richie’s request when he asked. And then, as a surprise to them both, Stan asked Eddie if he wanted to stay and hang around with them until the end of the day.

With Eddie by his side, the next few hours flew by. Eddie mostly stayed quiet, happy to just observe Richie interacting with fans, but every so often Richie would overhear him and Stan fall into conversation. He couldn’t concentrate on them long enough to hear what they were speaking about, but he was sure he heard his name a few times.

By the end of the day, Richie was thoroughly beat. He’d signed enough autographs to cramp his hand, talked enough to wear out his throat, and hugged enough people that he had a full warehouse of scents clinging to him. Yet despite all of that, he was in high spirits. Eddie’s presence had kept him in a sunny disposition, his smile rejuvenating Richie every time he began to crash.

And now, as the doors officially shut for the day, all Richie wanted to do was curl up beside Eddie until he replaced everyone else’s scent, talk to him until his voice gave out, and stroke that soft skin until his hand refused to move anymore. Eddie could be the death of him and he’d go happily.

“So, Mike and I are going out for dinner. Would you two like to join?” Stan asked Eddie, ignoring Richie’s groan as he let his head hit the table in exhaustion.

“Uhhh…” Eddie looked to Richie for an answer, seeing his tired state and deciding for them. “I don’t think so, thanks though, Stan.”

“Alternatively, we could all go back to mine and I can just order us some pizza.” Mike offered, to which Richie responded like a dog hearing their favorite word. He lifted his head up from the table just enough to look at Mike.

“What kind?” He asked, testing the waters.

Mike smirked, making eye contact with Stan over Richie’s head before looking back down at him. “Whatever kind you want.”

“Well damn, you’re gonna make me horny if you keep talking like that, Michael. I’m in.” Richie sat up, looking to Eddie for confirmation. “You in?” He asked, his tone hopeful.

Eddie nodded profusely, that same giddiness from earlier that day coming back in full force. Richie’s heart thudded against his chest, struggling to contain itself.

“Alright, great. It’s a double date.” Stan stated.

So, all in all, Richie supposed he didn’t hate Comiccon. Afterall, he couldn’t really hate something that had brought him Eddie Kaspbrak, a passionate force that had crashed through his walls and shown him that he could be himself. If his number one fan had accepted him, all of him, without question, then there was no reason to hide himself any longer. Eddie didn’t see him differently, Stan didn’t see him differently, Beverly and Bill and Mike didn’t see him differently… in fact Richie couldn’t think of a single person who had treated him differently for his sexuality or his ‘odd’ personality other than his management. They were the ones holding him back, pigeon-holing him, keeping their leash on Richie tight enough to make sure he continued making them money in a way that only benefited them.

It felt like a veil had been lifted and Richie could finally see what he had merely been stumbling through for the past few years. He knew what he needed to do, despite who he may piss off in the process. He didn’t really care about that, actually.

That evening he went over his plan with Stan, Eddie, and Mike. Stan talked him through what might happen once he went public, and Mike shared his experience with his own management and what Richie might want to look for in the future. Eddie cuddled up to him and hand-fed him pizza in support; he could really see himself falling in love with this guy.

So, at 1:00am on that unassuming October night, he posted one simple tweet. It was a photo of him kissing Eddie, with a carefully crafted (and if Richie could add, hilariously clever) caption.

“Surprise to no one: Dick likes dick!”