ʚ♡ɞ losers club nsfw ʚ♡︎ɞ

Sick Day

bottom richie tozier
top eddie kaspbrak

     Eddie fucking hated leaving Richie in the morning.

Though Richie spent most of his days trying to convince Eddie to leave his job and let himself be taken care of for once, it gave him way too much anxiety to even think about letting go of something that was just his. It made him think of his mother, and of Myra, and even though Eddie knew that Richie was different; that Richie would never hurt him or even come anywhere near the level of crazy that was Sonia and Myra, he just couldn't over power that voice in his head that cried out any time Richie suggested Eddie just stay home.

He wished he could, but he couldn't.

And so every weekday morning, Eddie rolled out of bed at 4:15 and got ready for work, leaving his slumbering beast of a boyfriend snuggled up in their bed, warm and soft and beautiful.

Richie was just about the worst bed partner there was; heavy and awkward, sweaty and snoring like a fucking water buffalo, and a total blanket hog. But Eddie loved him anyway, and it broke his heart to slip out of the bed, especially when Richie pulled at him and mumbled, "Just a few more minutes, Eds."

Eddie had taken to setting his alarm 15 minutes earlier, just so he'd have the time to snuggle into Richie, there in the dim morning light of their master bedroom.

Inevitably, however, Eddie got up every morning and went for his run, then came home and took a shower, got dressed, and ate some breakfast, all while Richie snoozed comfortably, starfished out over their king-sized mattress.

When Eddie finally returned upstairs to brush his teeth (the last thing he did every morning before heading off to work), he stopped in the doorway of the master bath to admire Richie as he slept, snoring away as he dreamed easily.

He was laying on his stomach, face pressed between both of their pillows in the middle of their bed, with his arms flopped out to either side. He looked comfortable, and Eddie was jealous, already in his stuffy work suit, with his freshly ironed button-down tucked into his pressed slacks. And Richie was naked as the day he was born, comforter pushed down around his hips, giving Eddie a great view of his back; smooth and pale and wide. It made his mouth water.

Richie's phone buzzed on the floor next to his nightstand, and Eddie smiled. Richie was always a fucking disaster, and you could clearly tell that just from looking at his side of the bed.

He'd flung his clothes off the night before, his pants laying in a heap next to the bed, and his t-shirt thrown over the armchair in the corner.

He'd tossed his glasses off in the dark of the night, whipping them in the general direction of his nightstand, and they'd landed on their lenses, with the temples sticking straight up in the air, like a tiny little accident waiting to happen.

Richie had a terrible habit of slapping his hand blindly onto his nightstand to search for things, and he clearly didn't know his own strength, because in the near 40 years Eddie had known him, Richie had broken seven pairs of glasses that way.

Eddie crossed their bedroom over to Richie, gently patting the side of his head before folding up his glasses and setting them at the edge of his nightstand, far enough out of his reach that he (probably) wouldn't smash them. He also took the time to move the glass of water Richie had brought to bed with him, sliding it out of his reach, and he picked up his phone from the floor and plugged it in for him. Richie wouldn't be up for at least a few hours, which would give his phone plenty of time to charge before he actually needed it for anything.

Eddie watched him sleep for a second, heart spinning in his chest as he did. He looked so sweet and beautiful there, so at peace, it made Eddie fall in love with him all over again.