Work Text:
“I wasn’t that drunk,” Eddie says, glaring at Richie. They cross their arms, pouting.
Richie lets out a surprised laugh. “You colored my face with a highlighter because you said I was important,” he reminds them.
“Because you are!” they throw their arms up, then cross them again, still pouting.
“You’re pouting, babe.” Richie looks up from where he’s writing in a notebook. They were most likely new jokes. Eddie hopes this conversation doesn’t make it in.
“No, I’m not,” they say, wiping the pout off their face immediately.
Richie points at himself. “I would hand you a mirror, sweetheart.”