"Make your own, you little turd," Richie grumps when Eddie takes his mug, but the tired smile on his face betrays the tone. The thunder is a new addition to this downpour and that makes it official for Richie; they're stuck in the house.

Taking the mug back and bringing it to his lips, Richie's eyebrows lift and he huffs a derisive sound through his nostrils as he takes a sip. "Yeah, fuckin' tell me about it," he agrees. "Although, I like to think we made good use of the time," he adds.

Richie doesn't attempt to hide the way his eyes sweep over Eddie's form now that it's acceptable behavior for him to do so. Not that what's "acceptable" has ever mattered that much to Richie, but when it comes to Eds, he hadn't really been willing to take chances. He'd been too afraid of alienating the other man and losing him again, potentially for good.

"Have I ever told you how much I like it when you wear my shirts?" he asks and Eddie ought to know by now that, no matter how much Rich loves him, he's still not to the point where he's entirely comfortable being affectionate with his words. So, predictably he follows it with, "it makes me feel all big and strong seeing your tiny body swimming in them."