Hey, Eddie, babe—I'm out right now, went to stretch my legs around the merchant district. They've got like sixty different kinds of noodles at this one shop, what kind do you want?
No cashews, got it. [Still on the line, he relays it to the vendor, and there’s a pause while he’s told what’s on offer without cashews. Then, curious:] Serious question, how spicy can you go?
You’re a braver man than me. I’m getting the mild stuff.
[Because it’s too early in the morning for Richie to set his taste buds on fire. He stays on the line as he orders a bowl of spicy, stir-fried noodles, no cashews, and a bowl of chicken noodle soup, as little spice as possible.]
You got anything else you want while I’m out here, Eds?
Oh, yeah, I’ve seen this before. First it starts with spicy noodles. Next thing you know you’ll be buying a goddamn Ferrari and getting into drag races.
[To the vendor: Yes, no cashews, really.]
Oh—hey, that’s. [That makes him feel some kind of way, all right, all fluttery on the inside. He’d known the ring was gone, he’d seen the lack of it for himself, but this sets off a new flood of funny, giddy feelings.] Good for you, man, congrats on the space divorce. But I was really asking if you wanted any other kinda food.
[You know, too covered in blood from that time he died? Richie stops talking then, clearly not quite willing to mention that just yet and ruin this idyllic moment. Right now he just wants to get them noodles, he’s not going to think about Derry or fucking Pennywise or the weight of Eddie’s body in his arms. He won’t.]
Give me like, forty minutes, they make these things to order. Something about ensuring freshness or some shit. Seriously, no way you can speed it up? Oh, come on.
No, I still have yours but I figured you might want it back eventually.
( Still it's not hard figure where Richie might have been going with his comment. It's a fact that they've been dancing around since he woke up back on the station. A part of Eddie thinks that maybe they should talk about things, sort their shit out and address their grief but he's also afraid of pushing things too quickly when everything is still so new. )
Yeah, alright— I might fall asleep again because I've been getting shit sleep since getting here. Just let me know when you're on your way or we can keep talking if you want?
Well. I could buy another one, y’know? You can keep that one.
[They ought to talk about it, certainly—the grief and guilt and sorrow that Richie had been drowning in, that he’d be so desperate to escape that he made a deal with an entity he didn’t quite understand. But not now. Not today. Not when things are so new and they’re still figuring this thing out.
Softly, gently:] Go to sleep, babe. I’ll wake you up when I get there.
I'd ask if you're sure but I already know what your answer will be. So, instead— thanks, Rich.
( Eddie breathes out a small sound, smiling even though he knows Richie can't see it but hopes that the other man can hear it in his voice. )
Yeah, okay. Be safe out there and— ( Because even though they are dancing around all the grief, guilt and sorrow then Eddie can at least be truthful about one thing. ) I love you. See you soon.
[Richie’s breath catches in his throat. Very softly, before he cuts the connection, he says:] I love you too.
[It takes an hour to get back, because Richie has to dodge the guards first and that adds extra time to the journey, but eventually he slips into the room, shuts the door behind him, and pecks a kiss to Eddie’s temple.]
Hey, Eddie Spaghetti Macaroni, rise and shine. I got your spicy noodles and I made damn sure they didn’t put cashews in them.
( There's a smile needless to say before Richie cuts the connection and he tucks himself back under the covers, breathing out a sound that is terribly pleased before Eddie manages to drift off into a much needed sleep. The short nap is terribly welcomed but he's grateful for the kiss to his temple as he blinks his eyes open with a small smile. )
Don't call me that. ( He says tiredly but with a touch of fondness as he sits up, pressing a small kiss to the corner of Richie's mouth before making a reach for said noodles. ) Thanks again, man. I've been starving.
Sure, Edsa Macarena. [Just giving him the stir-fried noodles and sitting down on the floor to start munching on his own bowl of significantly less spicy noodles.] And you're welcome. I bought milk in case you need it, worked fucking wonders for me when I tried Indian back in the day.
I take back that kiss, fuckface. ( He sets the noodles aside for just a moment so he might stretch some of the sleep and just general tiredness out of his limbs. It's been an exhausting last few days and it likely shows in his yawn as he walks over to join Richie on the floor so they can start eating. )
Thanks, I think I should be fine though. I used to eat spicy stuff all the time when I was in college and, you know, lived on my own.
[He doesn’t respond for a bit, busy stuffing his face full of noodles and slurping kind of loudly. After he swallows, with some interest he says:]
All the time, huh? How spicy are we talking here, the kind with a little kick or the kind where they make you sign a waiver so they’re legally not responsible for burning your fucking tongue off?
( He makes a noise not unlike a feral cat before returning to his own noodles. Still, Eddie can't help raising a brow at Richie and his fucking slurping like what the fuck, Richard. )
Between the two more than often? I had already moved to New York at the time since I was at Columbia so I had a lot of choice. My roommate and I my junior year did do one of those levels of spice challenges with ramen, you know where each level is more spicy than the next? I got to like level eight out of ten before I had to tap out.
[Another loud slurp.] 'S'for good luck. [He absolutely does not believe this, but hey, it can't hurt, and besides he's deliberately trying to poke Eddie's ire here for kicks. Again.
Being in a relationship does not mean Richie's going to let up on all the teasing, it turns out!]
I think I did one of those before I graduated from UCLA. [With a major in film, which is sort of useful if you want to make references to obscure arthouse cinema in your comedy.] I gave up at level three, thereabouts. You've got a much stronger stomach than I do.
( He resists the urge to say That makes sense because you're going to need all the luck you can get to keep me from drowning you in the broth but reigns that particular urge in for now. Instead he just cuts his gaze back down to his own food, comping down on his own noodles before considering the question with a thoughtful noise. )
Yeah, well, you know I hate being told that I can't do something. It was nice having that after I forgot everything and before mom got sick. ( He says with a faint shrug of his shoulder but managing to smile slightly. ) Of course I did. That punk ass dipped out on me at level two.
He sounds like a total pussy. [Says Richie, but then he held out until level three. Another very loud slurp, as if he's just daring Eddie to say something about it. Or drown him in the broth.]
Hey. You know the station's AI, Viveca, she can pull in basically anything you want? I asked her for one of Bill's books as a test and she got me a copy that shouldn't exist, so that was a fucking insane day. [Another loud slurp, but at least he waits until he's swallowed the noodles to continue talking:] If you want, next time we're on the station, we could use the reality-breaking multiverse-spanning teleportation shit to get takeout. There's this Indian restaurant that closed five years ago in Beverly Hills that could set your mouth on fire.
( Just fucking slapping the table because holy shit, Richard Tozier. ) Holy shit, dude. Just eat your noodles like a normal fucking person and not a five-year-old. I swear you're just doing this shit to piss me off and I'm going to break your fingers. All of them.
( Huff, huff and then— )
But— y-yeah, okay. There's a place not far from Wall Street that is pretty awesome that I'd like you to try.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
respirations) wrote2021-06-30 02:31 pm
audio
Hey, Eddie, babe—I'm out right now, went to stretch my legs around the merchant district. They've got like sixty different kinds of noodles at this one shop, what kind do you want?
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Oh, um— surprise me. Just nothing with cashews or anything that looks like cashews.
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( But hasn't he held himself back enough through life because of being worried about all this sort of shit? )
Go for something with a decent enough kick.
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[Because it’s too early in the morning for Richie to set his taste buds on fire. He stays on the line as he orders a bowl of spicy, stir-fried noodles, no cashews, and a bowl of chicken noodle soup, as little spice as possible.]
You got anything else you want while I’m out here, Eds?
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( Still its said fondly and near laughing but the question is met with a thoughtful hum. )
Nah— I'm good. I got a lot of things I needed when I went out the other day and pawned off my ring.
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[To the vendor: Yes, no cashews, really.]
Oh—hey, that’s. [That makes him feel some kind of way, all right, all fluttery on the inside. He’d known the ring was gone, he’d seen the lack of it for himself, but this sets off a new flood of funny, giddy feelings.] Good for you, man, congrats on the space divorce. But I was really asking if you wanted any other kinda food.
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( A huff either at the cashew comment or maybe its the 'space divorce' comment that gets him. )
I figured as much, Rich. And I mean it— really, I'm good so just get back here so I can see you.
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[You know, too covered in blood from that time he died? Richie stops talking then, clearly not quite willing to mention that just yet and ruin this idyllic moment. Right now he just wants to get them noodles, he’s not going to think about Derry or fucking Pennywise or the weight of Eddie’s body in his arms. He won’t.]
Give me like, forty minutes, they make these things to order. Something about ensuring freshness or some shit. Seriously, no way you can speed it up? Oh, come on.
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( Still it's not hard figure where Richie might have been going with his comment. It's a fact that they've been dancing around since he woke up back on the station. A part of Eddie thinks that maybe they should talk about things, sort their shit out and address their grief but he's also afraid of pushing things too quickly when everything is still so new. )
Yeah, alright— I might fall asleep again because I've been getting shit sleep since getting here. Just let me know when you're on your way or we can keep talking if you want?
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[They ought to talk about it, certainly—the grief and guilt and sorrow that Richie had been drowning in, that he’d be so desperate to escape that he made a deal with an entity he didn’t quite understand. But not now. Not today. Not when things are so new and they’re still figuring this thing out.
Softly, gently:] Go to sleep, babe. I’ll wake you up when I get there.
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( Eddie breathes out a small sound, smiling even though he knows Richie can't see it but hopes that the other man can hear it in his voice. )
Yeah, okay. Be safe out there and— ( Because even though they are dancing around all the grief, guilt and sorrow then Eddie can at least be truthful about one thing. ) I love you. See you soon.
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[Richie’s breath catches in his throat. Very softly, before he cuts the connection, he says:] I love you too.
[It takes an hour to get back, because Richie has to dodge the guards first and that adds extra time to the journey, but eventually he slips into the room, shuts the door behind him, and pecks a kiss to Eddie’s temple.]
Hey, Eddie Spaghetti Macaroni, rise and shine. I got your spicy noodles and I made damn sure they didn’t put cashews in them.
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Don't call me that. ( He says tiredly but with a touch of fondness as he sits up, pressing a small kiss to the corner of Richie's mouth before making a reach for said noodles. ) Thanks again, man. I've been starving.
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Thanks, I think I should be fine though. I used to eat spicy stuff all the time when I was in college and, you know, lived on my own.
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[He doesn’t respond for a bit, busy stuffing his face full of noodles and slurping kind of loudly. After he swallows, with some interest he says:]
All the time, huh? How spicy are we talking here, the kind with a little kick or the kind where they make you sign a waiver so they’re legally not responsible for burning your fucking tongue off?
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Between the two more than often? I had already moved to New York at the time since I was at Columbia so I had a lot of choice. My roommate and I my junior year did do one of those levels of spice challenges with ramen, you know where each level is more spicy than the next? I got to like level eight out of ten before I had to tap out.
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Being in a relationship does not mean Richie's going to let up on all the teasing, it turns out!]
I think I did one of those before I graduated from UCLA. [With a major in film, which is sort of useful if you want to make references to obscure arthouse cinema in your comedy.] I gave up at level three, thereabouts. You've got a much stronger stomach than I do.
Did you make it further than your roommate did?
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Yeah, well, you know I hate being told that I can't do something. It was nice having that after I forgot everything and before mom got sick. ( He says with a faint shrug of his shoulder but managing to smile slightly. ) Of course I did. That punk ass dipped out on me at level two.
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Hey. You know the station's AI, Viveca, she can pull in basically anything you want? I asked her for one of Bill's books as a test and she got me a copy that shouldn't exist, so that was a fucking insane day. [Another loud slurp, but at least he waits until he's swallowed the noodles to continue talking:] If you want, next time we're on the station, we could use the reality-breaking multiverse-spanning teleportation shit to get takeout. There's this Indian restaurant that closed five years ago in Beverly Hills that could set your mouth on fire.
no subject
( Huff, huff and then— )
But— y-yeah, okay. There's a place not far from Wall Street that is pretty awesome that I'd like you to try.