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[beavertrap]

i'm reddie trash so the more the better | all about that deep platonic love with the other losers | text | action | pics | prose | go wild, bitches

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[beavertrap]

[ Richie crosses his arms, still eyeing Ed with a confused expression and not really understanding why the "asking" part is so essential in this. Like this was something they could only ever speculate about as kids. Now, it was an actual reality.

(Not as swanky as an oscar party, no, but still pretty close!)

But, like with most things with Eddie, he relents. ]

Do you want to be my plus one to this party?

[descriptive]

[ It matters because Eddie can't imagine why Richie would want him, of all people, at this party, being an east coast asshole with basic pop culture knowledge and a tendency to death-grip his wine rather than partake in any fun antics.

But since he does want Eddie there, it's done. Just another heartbeat of hesitation. ]

I do.

[ Finally, Eddie's mouth curves into a smile. ]

Anything I should know so I don't embarrass you? The only parties I go to anymore are work shindigs, and that's a different vibe from what you do.

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[ Arms still crossed as he nods, ]

Keep the talk of diseases to a minimum unless someone else brings it up first. Please.

[ He didn't hesitate in that bit. Because while he's used to it, while the other Losers just know that's how Ed is, other people... might not get it. And it's less about Rich being embarrassed and more about not wanting Eddie to be looked at weird or made to feel weird. ]

Otherwise, just be yourself.

[descriptive]

[ Eddie opens and closes his mouth, looking somewhat stricken by the first request. He knows he does that, he knows it’s not good for him, let alone anyone else, but it’s—a work in progress, to be less like that.

It does help when Richie is there to stopper his nervy thinking. ]

[ quieter. ] Okay. [ another sip of his coffee and a final bite of his sandwich before he stands to clear his plate and slot it the dishwasher. He has more questions, like what do we tell people who ask how we know each other? Am I your date? but he doesn’t want to push when he already made verbal missteps in this conversation, so instead he turns around, carding a hand back through his hair, more sheepish than purposeful. ]

Thanks for asking me, Rich. [ a little nod to himself. ] I’m glad I’ll be there with you.

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[ Richie smiles at that, glad that Eddie isn't upset about his terms (or at least doesn't seem to be). He nods back, arms swinging back to his sides, almost like he was twelve again. ]

I am too, man. I gotta be honest, I'm pretty nervous about all this. It'll help having you there with me.

[ Because who better than his best friend? The only thing better would having all the Losers there and turning it into a real party. But, hopefully, there will be time enough for that later. ]

[descriptive]

[ Be brave, he thinks, like Richie said he was — like Stan urged him to be in the letter he received a week ago. Eddie steps forward, catching Richie’s wrist as he passes, touch lingering. ]

I’ll be with you the whole time. [ jerking his head. Teasing, then. ] Until you ditch me to do shots with some actor. Then I’ll probably, like, make shitty small talk with the camera guy. Or gal. Don’t gotta be prescriptive about it.

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[ He tries not to let himself flush at the sudden touch (again). He thought he was over this by now... But he recovers quickly. He leans in to bump his shoulder with Eds'. ]

Bullshit, man. I'm gonna drag you to do shots with me. I know you got it in you.

[descriptive]

[ Eddie’s features shift, playfully bothered. ]

Doesn’t mean I want it in me, huh. [ a beat. Softer. ] But I’ll go wherever you want me, man. It’s your big day.

[beavertrap]

Continued here~