beavertrap | open rp

[ Richie lets his feet go and laughs at Eddie nearly slamming into his side like that. ]

That was de Palma reusing the same fucking ending from Carrie. That's what.

[ This is definitely one of the best nights he's had in a long, long time. Because with Eddie, just being here with him is enough to make him happy. There are no strings attached, no bailing after the "mutual transaction" of sex. It's just them being dumb and having the kind of fun they had when they were younger. ]

You know what we gotta watch next right?

[ His brows knit, trying to guess despite the alcohol slowing him down. ]

Please don’t say Carrie. [ reaching to pour himself more sake to cope with that theoretical scenario. ] I can only do so much blood, man.

[ Though it seems like he would watch anything, if it meant staying with Richie and indulging his whims. It’s just a question of how much whining is involved. ]

[ Richie laugh again, almost tempted to make it Carrie he just lift one of his legs into the air instead. As if he were a dancer before singing out, ]

What a feeling~

[ He tries to spin his foot around but it only pops his ankle. Which gets a groan that forms into another laugh. ]

Fuck.

[ He pushes himself off of the couch with a grunt and moves over to change the movies out, singing the phrase "getting old sucks" to the same tune as the other song. Before turns back to Eddie and points, ]

Yes, we are watching Flashdance. Because it's sexy and awesome and romantic with a baller soundtrack.

[ Eddie laughs aloud at that, almost choking on his drink. Finally, he manages out a deadpan — ]

We are definitely low on all of those adjectives right now.

[ single divorcee-in-progress and single stand-up comedian, both 40+, mmm hmm. He pats the spot beside him after he says it, though, brows arched and mouth quirked (like it’s not a bad thing because, well, they’re together). ]

[ Richie grins wide at that, making sure the movie was in and ready to play before shuffling on back to the couch. He flops down next to Eddie and wraps an arm around Ed's shoulders to pull him in and kiss the side of his head. ]

Naw, man. You're totally sexy and awesome. There's way better women out there for you.

[ It’s a moment so unexpected, a reassurance in place of a cheap shot at his boring job or various neuroses, that it will haunt his dreams and waking moments for the next week, at least. Colour floods his neck and cheeks, altogether too warm, and he tips his head into Richie to hide it (yeah, just to hide it, sure thing, you stupid motherfucker). ]

Here’s to hoping they don’t find me all the way out here. [ His track record for accidentally ending up with a girlfriend is so high, it had been a running joke among his university friends. ]

You be the romantic one this time. [ a beat, in which he has too much time to consider that possibility. ] Yeah, bet you’re good at it, you fuckin’ sap.

[ Being expressive, even when they were young, with a thoughtful streak as an adult. And with a capacity for vocalising his feelings and offering encouragements that Eddie most certainly lacks. ]

[ Richie keeps his arm around Eddie, the nights they've spent together making him feel better about being more expressive physically with Eds. The sake definitely helped in this moment. Where he isn't feeling like he's dying inside at the thought of Eddie being with someone else that isn't him.

He snorts loudly, ]

If that were true I wouldn't be alone this far into life.

[ He stretches his other arm up above his head, slouching down in the couch as he does so, stretching out his legs, too. ]

Never married, can't keep a relationship. Nah, I'm shit at all of it.

[ Eddie has been, and will continue, to avoid thinking about how he’s had more affectionate physical contact in the last week with Richie than in the last year of his marriage. It’s not something you’re meant to dwell on, when upending your life and moving in with said source of affection.

After a pause, he pulls back just enough to look at Richie (too close, fuck, shit) and reaches out, gently knocking against his collarbone to catch his attention. ]

I don’t believe it, Rich. [ a 180 from his audacity when he first heard Richie might be married at the Jade, throat tight. A few counters come to mind. You’re a catch. You’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and it’s not that different in the end, is it? Instead, he leans back under Richie’s arm and mimics his posture, selfishly chasing warmth and closeness before he finally decides to add — ]

Somebody out there’s kicking themselves over losing you. [ with a reassuring squeeze at Richie’s knee, filling in the worlds he lacks with a gesture (one he most certainly wouldn’t have the careless confidence for while sober). That has to be true, when Eddie has felt his absence unknowingly for years. Lulled by the comfort and the alcohol both, he continues aloud without even realising it, focus drifting back to the screen. ] I didn’t even remember you, and I think I missed you.

[ That he gravitated towards people who reminded him of Richie without knowing why, even though none of them stuck in his place. Maybe because that spot was already filled. ]

And I don't believe that.

[ He says it with a laugh, finding the idea of anyone wanting him for more than his dick - because it's a good dick, okay? - pretty laughable after everything he's been through. But he still keeps Eddie close to his side, letting the other man snuggle against him with no qualms about it. He knows, deep down, he shouldn't be doing this. He knows how selfish this all is on his part but considering everything Richie has wanted to say to Eds since they first saw each other again, he thinks he's shown pretty considerable restraint. At least for him.

But his latter statement really strikes a cord, Richie trying to rest his head on top of the other's, ]

Yeah? I think I did, too. Like I was looking for you without realizing it.

[ Because there had been plenty of mouthy brunettes that had been shorter than him walking in and out that door. Same with his previous place. But none of them ever felt worth chasing. None of their eyes had ever been the big brown ones he had been unknowingly trying to find this whole time. ]

Edited 2019-11-14 16:30 (UTC)

[ Oh. It’s the same as it was the first night on the road, huddled close, trading half-confessions. Eddie doesn’t have any right to this, but Richie’s giving it freely, isn’t he — had grabbed his hand that night and keeps his arm around Eddie now.

If they’ve been missing and looking for each other all this time, this togetherness, undefined and unexplained, should be allowed. Missed sounds passive in comparison — looking does the ache justice. ]

Well, you’ve got me now. [ Eddie fidgets, shimmying slightly to settle in and grabbing a blanket from the back of the sofa to tug over their legs, head still tucked under Richie’s chin. ] And I’m not going anywhere.

[ Now or in general. And while he hadn’t thought Richie needed or wanted this as much as him when he’d first made the offer, Eddie suspects that he might now, if only a little. ]

[ His eyes are on the screen but, like that first night, he's barely seeing what's there. He's turning those words over in his drunk ass brain and wondering if he really can take them at face value... ]

Easy, Eds. I'll hold you to it...

[ After all these years of being without the other, he wasn't looking forward to parting ways or letting him go be with someone else. ]

[ His thoughts blur, hazy with alcohol. Hold me to it, hold me, please please please keep me right here. If Eddie turned his head, he could kiss Richie Tozier — an idea that sparks and fizzles, doused by ever present, sensible part of his brain that assures him they’re recovering from shared trauma, of nearly losing the other and themselves. And Eddie has just ruined his longest relationship outside the losers — without much family to speak of, that makes him alone in this world.

At least outside the group. Maybe outside this room. Don’t put that on Richie. Being drunk and lonely isn’t cute, at his age. And he’s never — it’s always been women, besides. Except for when it wasn’t. Twice. Men he let get too close, tall and grinning, with enough curls to slide his hand into, before his nerves got the better of him. You can’t afford that: The risk or the loss. Eddie’s so busy talking himself off the ledge that he forgets to reply, belatedly offering a contextless and quiet, ]

Thanks, Rich.

[ It’s a shame, but he misses most of the movie, spending half of it working himself into knots and the other half asleep, nose turned into the crook of Richie’s neck. ]

Edited 2019-11-15 07:30 (UTC)

[ Richie goes in and out of the movie, dozing and then waking up at moments he's already seen a dozen times (if not more). He checks a few times if Eddie is still awake, usually finding his eyes closed when he does so. Oh well. He won't ruin his sleep.

And by the time they reach the end, he can hear Eddie's rhythmic breathing enough to not even care about saying aloud: ]

I want a man to give me flowers and a dog in a bow. Ugh.

[ But life isn't fair and he isn't a sexy dancer working as a welder. (What a weird way to remember his mom told him she had wished he was a girl more than a few times. Good grief.) He lets the movie play out and reaches over to the side of the couch to pull the lever, pushing the end into reclining back. The other end did it, too, just not the middle. His legs go up and his top goes back, moving Eddie down to his chest if he doesn't wake up again.

Richie falls back asleep and the tv eventually turns off on its own thanks to the energy saver setting after a few hours of no activity. More hours will pass and sunlight will come flitting in through the gaps in the curtains, dimming the lights still on in the room. Richie is just gonna keep on snoring softly where he is. ]

[ This time, he doesn’t sleep well, the potent mix of alcohol and anxiety pulling his dreams to Derry, underground, blood on Richie’s glasses and dirt on his skin — but each time he wakes, Richie’s still there, arm still around him. Between his pounding head and heart, he stays. It’s only after his last stretch of uninterrupted sleep that he pushes himself upright, palm flat against Richie’s chest. The panic of the first time has been dulled by familiarity of waking up beside Richie in motels and cars in their travels, so he takes his time extricating himself.

Finally, he sits up with a groan, one hand gripped on Richie’s thigh for balance and the other pressing against his temple in search of relief. ]

We cannot fucking do that, man. [ hoarse with sleep and dehydration. He pats Richie’s leg to ensure he’s awake. No point in whining without an audience. ] Shove my sad ass on the ground next time. Everything hurts.

[ His back, his stomach, his head. He feels frightfully old and, fortunately, too shitty to unpack any part of last beyond the obvious. ]

[ The minute Eddie starts breaking through Rich's fog of sleep, he's groaning and pulling the blanket up to cover his face and head, leaving his long legs uncovered. He even lazily shifts and squirms over onto his side on the recliner, giving Eddie his back. ]

No. Nope. Not awake. No. Fuck off.

[ He's not getting up early here. Not when he's also hungover as fuck. He's back at his place, back on his couch. He isn't getting up!!! ]

[ Too much talking, too loud. Eddie looses another groan. ]

Ugh, beep beep, Rich.

[ For a long moment, he sits, head in his hands. Then, he’s up and at ‘em without another word, slow going but still, y’know, going. Splashing cool water on his face helps, as does popping several aspirin. Of course, what he really needs is food — pottering about in the kitchen, opening cupboards and peering into the freezer.

He finds: Hard liquor, beers, ramen, stale Oreos, and out of date milk in the fridge. ]

Oh, for fuck’s sake. How the hell — who lives like —

[ For the first time, he misses his home with Myra, kitted out as it is with healthy snackbars and gluten free cereal. He stomps back into the living room, enlivened by his frustration though still unchanged from his rumpled shirt and shorts. When clearing his throat fails to win Richie’s attention, he picks up a stray pillow and chucks it at his head. ]

Richard, where are your keys?

[ Rich grumbles softly into the blanket, still refusing to get up before falling silent. He's almost back to sleep when that damn pillow hits his head and he gurgles out something like a grown that gets muffled into the blanket. ]

Ugh. Up your ass. Where else.

[ They are actually on the table where the leftover containers are, not that Richie remembers that. ]

[ oh my god?? ]

Hysterical, Rich. Really funny shit. Thought I already had a stick up there.

[ An initial glance proves useless for locating the keys, and he starts investigating the room further, checking under the furniture before checking the table. God, he needs to get his shit together ‘cause this college shit is not gonna work for him long-term.

And because he can, he swats at Richie’s absurdly long legs as he passes. Ah, there it is. ]

I’m getting food. [ with a snort. ] Don’t do anything too strenuous while I’m out.

[ The swat gets a muffled whine with Richie blindly (and weakly) kicking his leg out. Nowhere close to Eddie but the attempt was made. ]

Come back with that kale shit and we're gonna have Words.

[ ROLLING HIS EYES (albeit fondly) ]

I’ll come back with whatever I want.

[ Funny how much an evening changes things, from grateful guest to making himself right at home. With a quick trip into his room, he tugs on proper clothes, buttoning the neck of his polo when he pokes his head in once more. ]

Text me if you want anything, dickwad.

[ and Eddie does, in fact, return with so many actual groceries (including kale, fuck off) that it takes two trips to bring everything up. On the second, one of Richie’s neighbors (a young guy doing his Masters at USC, who sheepishly admitted he was a trashmouth fan when Eddie mentioned his generous host) ends up helping him carry the lot and exchanging smalltalk en route to the kitchen. Incidentally, outside Myra, it’s the longest conversation he’s had with someone who didn’t nearly die in a sewer alongside him, which is — a lot, honestly. Maybe in a good way.

If Richie has roused by then, he might catch snippets of their idle chatter (about health food pointers, gym recommendations, Eddie’s work and the indefinite length of his stay), wrapping naturally when the job is done. ]

Thanks, man — let me know if you ever need a hand, and maybe I’ll see you at, uh —

[ “Equinox,” he supplies. God, LA is embarrassing.

The door closes with a click, and from then on, Eddie will be spending his first day in paradise 1. Making coffee, 2 Cooking an omelette, and 3. Re-organising the entire kitchen. ]

[ Richie can't even be bothered to move his hand from under the blanket to flip Eddie as he goes. He sleeps the whole time Eddie is gone, jerking awake only when the door opens again and he hears things being set down in the kitchen. He drags his ass to the bathroom in the time between the two trips, needing to use the john as well as wash his face and mouth out.

He comes out after the front door closes, a confused expression on his face, ]

Was there someone else here?

[ He didn't imagine that? His hangover makes everything pretty foggy and overly loud. ]

[ Eddie shrugs, still looking rougher than he’d like, with his wrinkled polo and unstyled hair. ]

Some guy from, like, two floors down or something. Andy? [ Not unsure of the name, but of whether Richie knows him. A beat, as Eddie debates mentioning that “Andy from downstairs” thinks Richie is funny and decides against it. No need to encourage his trashmouthing. ]

I would’ve warned you, but — [ scrunching his nose. ] — my hands were already full when he offered to help carry everything that I bought to restock your desolate kitchen, dude.

[ He’s not over the lack of emergency cereal. ]

[ Richie frowns at that, ]

You let a stranger into our apartment? Dude.

[ No, he did not know this Andy guy. He barely knew any of his neighbors with the weird hours he kept. But he doesn't really say any more about it than that. At least Eddie managed to talk to someone else in L.A. already. That's not a bad thing.

He walks into the kitchen and starts digging through the bag, ]

Did you get any poptarts?

[ Oh, shit, was that — overstepping? Stupid? For all that Eddie worries about his health and safety, he doesn’t extend the same anxiety to other people. Even after all these years, he’s the same guy who let someone write LOSER on his cast.

The our apartment of it all takes the edge off. Does Richie really think of it that way, when Eddie has just elbowed his way into the other’s life? ]

He seemed — [ Nice? Not murdery? ] I didn’t think about it. Sorry.

[ a quiet admission, offered as he follows Richie into the kitchen. When Richie asks about the poptarts, his mouth quirks. ]

Try the 4th bag from the sink.

[ Eddie puts the coffee on before he starts on bag one, unearthing all manner of standard ingredients (Dairy-free milk! Eggs! Vegetables!) and attempting to institute order in the kitchen. ]

Just watch out for anyone sketchy, man. Stalkers and shit. It's L.A. Can never rule them out.

[ He's been in this city long enough to know it isn't just something "dramatic" they make up for the movies. While he's had luck with not being followed like others, he has had his share of less than savory run-ins when he was finally starting to get some attention. And with Eddie here, now, he doesn't want anything else to happen to him after they almost died in the fucking Derry sewers.

He goes about locating the box of poptarts and opens them up. He moves out of the way for Eddie to start putting the food up, watching as he opens one of the packets up and starts eating. ]

Looks like you bought out a whole section.

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