Reddie Oneshots

-59- My Pleasure

"Richie! Richie, I killed it, I killed it!" Eddie grinned happily, turning around from where he sat on Richie's lap to show him. But it was moving. Growing. It was getting back up.

"I'm gonna have to politely disagree on that one Eds," Richie replied, grabbing Eddie's torso and shoving him out of the way of an incoming spiked tentacle. They landed, chests flush against each other, with Richie on top and both very much alive - thank god.

Richie didn't know what in fuck he would have done if Eddie was gone.

Richie knew again, a feeling from so long ago that came back stronger, he wouldn't go on without Eddie.

The losers got out of Neibolt as six.

Richie, Billy, Bev, Mike, Ben... and Eddie.

By grace of whatever fucking force was in charge, they were all still alive.

Something changed that day, within Richie. He realized he had to say something, or Eddie would go right back to his life (as a goddamn risk assessor) and his wife. Richie had to tell him, he had to, at least to let him know. But by fucking god he was scared.

As he sat in his hotel room, on the edge of his bed, with his hands on his knees and his glasses fogging up thanks to his deep breaths, he recited what he had planned to say. The seconds passed like they were dragging through mud, but five minutes felt like nothing at all. Before he was ready, before he knew it, there was a knock on his hotel door.

"We're heading out now, Rich, the reservation is waiting and we don't want to make Mike wait alone at the restaurant," Beverly called through the door.

Richie stared at his hands. "Is everyone going?"

"Well, yeah," Ben replied. "You can come later if you want, but the rest of us are going now."

Richie sighed, finally slumping out of his tensed position and tugging off his cracked glasses impatiently. He wiped them on the edge of his shirt and stood up, nearly toppling over with an intense wave of head rush. He steadied himself on the wall, then shook his head and put his glasses back on, heading to the door and stepping out.

"Okay," he said curtly, shutting the door behind him and stepping past the others to start off down the stairs. He didn't look up from the ornately carpeted floor. "We're off."

He supposed it was better to not make eye contact with any of them, rather than just avoiding Eddie's gaze.

The restaurant was dimly lit, mahogany furniture with warm reds and purples dancing together throughout all the various fabrics that decorated each table. The atmosphere was rather welcoming and the food smelled delectable.

Well, Richie supposed, better to get disowned by all of your childhood friends with some sort of enjoyment.

A conversation picked up around the table, but Richie couldn't contribute. His thoughts consumed him whole, showing every possible route and every possible turn out. Essentially, they all seemed to end badly for Rich.

He'd just have to rip off the bandaid.

There was a lull in the conversation as more of the losers started to realize Richie wasn't feeling his best, and he smiled ruefully.

Now or never.

"Guys, don't let this change things..." he began, revising his words again and again before speaking. "Also, I know should have said something a damn long time ago, I know, but... well, here we are I guess," his voice was so much stronger than he felt. He sounded confident, like this was a skit he'd prepared for. He glanced up at Eddie's eyes for the first time since they'd escaped the sewers, and he took a deep breath.