eddie "fuck you, bro" kaspbrak. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
respirations) wrote2025-12-01 12:00 am
respirations) wrote2025-12-01 12:00 am
― open post.
voice strength: ★★★★★ shipping: i'm reddie trash but i'm also all about that platonic love with the other losers preferences: gen, smut, shippy, angst, au, cross-canon, slice of life. notes: for some fun starting points: some random assortment of memes and aus for days; feel free to go the other worldly route; also throw pics or random sentences at me and a kink generator because why not. hit me up for starters if you'd like. there's no crying in baseball but there is crying in my rp but let's have fun, ok. |
ok be gentle w/me
01 02 03 04 05 06 07
tried to throw most of them to use! ♥
Which was, shockingly, a shame for Eddie. Yesterday had been fantastic despite Richie coming back in with sunburns despite his warnings about reapplying it. They had walked around the nearby town, shot the shit and bought dumb gifts to send back to the other Losers before ending the day on the sands itself with drinks in hand. They had talked a lot as the sunset about ideas, plans and the recently realized bout of separation anxiety both had suffered while Richie had been doing a short tour up the West Coast.
He had expected to miss him. Eddie finds his stomach tightening up and doing flips when the bastard is late coming home from local gigs, after all. This had been a little different. Like a piece of you is missing? Beverly had asked, amused. Eddie had scoffed at the time but it didn't stop him from immediately burying against Richie once he had gotten in from his red-eye home. Maybe it was still the newness of their relationship, maybe it was the fear of forgetting one another again after everything they had fought against but maybe it was just he had genuinely missed the Trashmouth.
And speaking of―
There's a notable body of warmth missing from bed and Eddie, finally, sits up with a yawn. Somewhere nearby he can hear music but can't quite pinpoint where in the rental it might be coming from. Instead he rubs the sleep from his eyes and calls out:
"Rich?"
♥ ♥ ♥
The thing was, he spent twenty-seven years in a haze, not ever fully grasping why he never felt like a complete person. He'd always felt like something was missing and during the stretch of years when he'd been famous enough to have his pick, Richie tried to fill the empty spaces with women and, when that yielded exactly nothing and, in fact, tended to make things feel even worse, with men. That had taken longer; Richie spent a lot of years carefully curating an incredibly heterosexual image of himself for public consumption. Maybe some guys in Hollywood could feel comfortable coming out but Richie wasn't raised to be comfortable or accepting of himself like these goddamn millennials were. It was harder.
Finding his memories of Eddie, and as some of them still continue to slowly trickle in even now, after all those years, Richie finally understood that incomplete feeling he'd suffered most of his life. There had been an Eddie-shaped piece of him missing for all that time and the prospect of the empty space coming back again was a special brand of scary that Richie hadn't wanted to risk facing alone.
But he'd gone; it's his job and Richie does love it, so he'd put on a smile and tossed out a casual Your Mom joke as per standard practice, and he'd gone. He kept a photo of Eddie on his phone labeled with Eddie's name and the relationship he has to Richie via the text editor on Instagram Stories and then saved down rather than posted for the rest of the world to see, just to be on the safe side, and he set an alarm reminding himself to look at it at least once a day. If he had a say in it, he wasn't going to forget again.
It had felt like coming home for the first time in his life when he'd gotten off the plane. Normally, "home" was just a place to lay his head between gigs. After nearly losing Eddie in Well House that day, he'd forced himself to be honest, at least with himself and with Eddie, and he'd come out to his best friend. The road to get where they are now had been long and, for Richie, fucking excruciating, but now he's finally got the one thing he's wanted for almost his entire life.
He wakes up in a tangle of sheets and limbs and the sun isn't shining through the window across the room for the first time all week. The steady thrum of rain against the glass suggests he'll have to come up with something else for them to do today. Not that Richie's a morning person — because holy shit, no — but once he's up, he's up, and once he puts his glasses on and spies the tall, bright green digital numbers on the clock and flops back down on the pillow, groaning as he takes a moment to stare up at the ceiling. What kind of fucking maniac wakes up unprompted at 7:48 a.m. when he doesn't have anywhere to go? This fucking maniac, evidently.
After several minutes of simply lying there beside Eddie, watching the other man's peaceful face as he sleeps; ghosting affectionate fingertips over Eddie's chest and allowing himself the luxury of just appreciating how it feels to be this close, Richie gently extricates himself. He stops to pull on a pair of boxer shorts before padding out to the kitchen, putting on a pot of coffee and turning on some music. Finally, once he pours himself a cup of morning mojo, Richie wanders out to the sunroom — which is sad and dark when the sun isn't shining into it, go figure — and slumps comfortably into a chair to caffeinate himself and mull over the possibilities for what they can do now that the rain shafted their plans.
It's just shy of half an hour — and a few sips into his second cup of joe — when he hears Eddie calling out. "Out back," he calls, but rather than making Eddie wind his way through the beach house to find him, Richie gets up and moves to meet him halfway.
Richie's glasses are the only part of him that looks put together this early in the morning. His face is in dire need of a shave, hair disheveled, and deep wrinkles in the boxer shorts that might or might not actually be clean. As he comes into view, one hand raising the mug to his lips while the other scratches idly at his bare stomach, softer than he'd like, but nowhere near as bulged as it would have every right to be after so many years of trying to drink his loneliness away when sinking his dick into whoever might've caught his fancy on any given day didn't seem to do the job. His smile is lopsided and tired and Richie still can't believe that he belongs to this man after all these years. Moreover, he still can't believe his man belongs to him.
"Morning," he says and it comes out kind of a croak, his throat still dry and voice choked with sleepiness that still clings to him and probably will for another hour or so. "Looks like shit outside," he adds and only realizes after he's said it that Eddie's probably plenty aware of that by now.
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Pulling on his briefs, he makes a grab for Richie's shirt as well and steps out to find wherever Richie has holed himself up for the morning. He looks as well put together as Richie does once they find one another near the kitchen with Eddie yawning and running a hand through his mussed hair which does little to help it.
"Morning," he says in response and immediately reaches out to take Richie's mug from his hands. He takes a greedy sip and sighs, eyes closed but clearly pleased despite another rumble of thunder rolling over in the distance. "Sounds like shit too," he continues with a tired smile as he passes the mug back to Richie.
"Still better than a snowstorm though."
Their last trip had ended in a snowstorm that had extended their trip by two days when they had been snowed in. It hadn't been great losing power and having to hover around an old wood stove but they had managed to pass the time in their own ways that had made everything worth it. Definitely one of their better decision and certainly part of the reason they had decided on the beach instead this time. Certainly less snow even though it was just replaced by sand and now thunderstorms rolling over their heads.
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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."
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Just as quickly though as the rise comes, he settles and shifts lightly to press in closer. Much like Richie, Eddie doesn't attempt to hide the little things that he likes now; like being close to Rich. It's the little things that might have been weird before but are utterly allowed now without someone batting an eye.
"Yeah? Was it the shitty board games, charades or sex that made 'good use' of the time," he says with a careful raise of his brow. "Never mind. Don't answer that. I already know what you'll say."
It's with a shrug that he reaches out to steal the mug again and steal the last swallow before he moves past and toward the kitchen. The rain is coming down and sheets with Eddie pausing to watch it out the nearby window. The ocean beyond is raging too, dark and stormy unlike the calm waters they had grown used since their arrival at the rental.
"Is it bad that I just want to go back to bed?"
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His mouth opens to respond with another almost definitely predictable sex joke, but Eddie decides he doesn't want Richie's input, so the taller man snorts his amusement and refrains. This time, anyway.
"Hey!" he protests when Eddie takes the mug again and, even worse, finishes the last of it. "I wasn't done with that, you little shit, you better make more," he calls after him before belatedly following the other man to the kitchen.
Honestly, Richie could watch Eddie's silent contemplations forever and never get bored. There's just something about the strong line of Eddie's jaw when it's relaxed and the way those lines in his forehead smooth out when he's not perpetually stressed about something because he's just passively observing whatever's in front of him. After a moment of just standing back and watching Eddie's profile from afar, Richie moves to join him, stepping up behind him and enveloping him in his arms, pressing his chest against Eddie's back before dipping his head to press a kiss to the crook where Eddie's neck meets his shoulder.
"Why would that be bad?" he asks. "I think that sounds like a pretty legit way to spend the rest of the morning. It's too fucking early to be up and around, anyway. I don't even know how I'm still awake, if I'm honest."
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"You're usually supposed to do as much as you can on vacation," he muses. "Make the most of it."
Eddie shifts with that and turns in Richie's embrace with an amused look on his features. He carefully lifts a hand to hold one of his biceps and breathes out a tired sound. It's with another soft sound that he leans in and presses his lips to Richie's own with something akin to a smile.
He honestly doesn't think that he'll ever get enough of this. There's just something with Richie that he didn't have with any of his girlfriends when he had been younger and certainly not with his ex-wife. Perhaps it's because Richie doesn't treat him like glass or something that needs to be handled with care, protected. He just lets him... be. He parts with another soft look and holds up the mug with a nod of his head toward the kitchen.
"Coffee first," he muses. "Then back to bed."
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He's grinning, though, when Eddie turns to face him because he can hear the amusement in Eddie's voice and he's matching it with his own. In spite of the fact that he's arguing against, sort of, Eddie's point, he's mostly doing it to inject a little levity into their dreary morning.
"Coffee first," he echoes playfully, going in for another chaste kiss just because he can, "and then back to bed, like that makes any goddamned sense, but count me in."
Now Richie's the one nodding toward the kitchen. "Well go on, fuckface, you're the one who finished the last of it off," he says, grinning mischievously before swatting at Eddie's backside. "Hop to it with that coffee, Eduardo, I'm still in zombie mode over here."