𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄, 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 / 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔

ᴠᴇɪɴᴛɪᴜɴᴏ

After school is out on Tuesday, Richie stops by his house so he and Eddie can drop off their things and pick up a few snacks for Bev's Anti-Thanksgiving party. Eddie wants to change, and as he's buttoning up a green, plaid shirt that Richie has always liked on him, Richie kisses the back of his neck slowly, gripping Eddie's hips as he stands behind him, pulling him back and completely flush against him.

They lose maybe half an hour this way, kissing passionately on the bed and grinding hard together. Richie wants to see the whole thing through, to watch Eddie come undone again, and pay closer attention so he can memorize exactly how he looks when he loses himself. But Eddie pulls back, breathing heavily, and reminds him that they need to get going, they have a lot of stuff to do, and they can always do this later. Richie grumbles, but he knows Eddie is right.

When they get to Bev's house her aunt is already gone, but Mike is there and he's in the kitchen, cooking something that smells awesome and makes Richie's mouth start to water.

"What the fuck, Mike?" Richie asks, coming up behind him and peeking over his shoulder to see what he's stirring so slowly and carefully. "Is that fucking clam chowder?"

Mike nods, smirking as he lowers the heat. "Yeah, Bev wanted some more. I'm guessing you're gonna want some, too?"

"Guessed right, my good man."

Smiling, Mike sets the large spoon down on the counter, on top of a paper towel, and he turns to look at Richie, his expression sobering. "Hey, uh- I don't want to bring this up to Eddie right now, but," he looks past Richie's shoulder, lowers his voice, and leans in slightly. "I think I know where Sam lives."

Richie's eyes widen, and he, too, glances over his shoulder, to see that Bev and Eddie are still talking in the living room. "Where?"

"There's this house really far down the road from mine," Mike says, and he looks a little uncertain, a little queasy, maybe. "It's the opposite way from town, so I don't go down that far very often, but I did the other day, and, you know, I've seen the last name on the mail box enough times, but I just never made the connection."

"Ellis?"

"Yeah."

Richie glances back again, then moves over slightly and folds his arms over each other to lean on the counter, the dirty spoon close to his elbow. "Is it an old house?"

Mike looks sideways for a moment, like he's considering his next words, and says, "It's a big house. I'm pretty sure he's got family money- I definitely saw a car out front that looks exactly like his."

"Beige Chrysler Lebaron?"

Mike nods, says, "And this house is creepy. Like, not Neibolt creepy, but... just weird."

Richie frowns. "Weird how?"

"Hey, Rich," Eddie's voice says from behind him, and Richie turns around, smiling wide as Eddie asks, "Can I talk to you real quick?"

Richie follows Eddie down the hallway to the bedrooms, into the last one closest to the bathroom. All of his things have been stored here, in a mess of bags and backpacks, his furniture carefully pressed up against the walls. Eddie closes the door behind them, and then pulls Richie by the hand over to the bed set up off-center from the rest of the room.

They sit down, and Eddie tells him about Bev offering him a room in the house. Eddie seems a little nervous, his hands flat against each other and wedged between his thighs, his eyes cast downward to the floor, avoiding Richie's. It's a little ridiculous, honestly- it's not that big of a deal.