𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 • 𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒊𝒆

* we dance best in the kitchen *

Richie's apartment was surprisingly clean. Eddie had thought, given his personality, that it would be as messy and cluttered as his own - probably even more so. However, the place was just about spotless. The counters were free of clutter, the blankets were folded on the couch, and even the stacks of records in the corner were neat and organized.

Richie had noticed him staring when they'd first come in, and he'd excitedly told Eddie all about them. He'd been collecting them for years and had nearly two hundred - all sorts of albums from all sorts of bands. Eddie could see The Beatles, Elvis Presley, Toto, Whitney Houston, The Everly Brothers, and countless more that he'd never even heard of. It was rather impressive. Richie had gone on to tell Eddie that he owned two record players - one for the living room and one for his bedroom - and according to him, one of them was always playing music. Sometimes he had both on at the same time, just loud enough that they could both be heard in either room, producing a cacophony of contrasting music. Richie claimed it improved his productivity. Eddie thought it would just give him a headache.

In the first few minutes of being in the apartment, Richie had reminded Eddie more than ever of an overexcited puppy. He pointed out every single object of interest and proudly told a story about each one. He was like a little kid. Eddie couldn't decide whether it was more ridiculous or adorable. Or rather, that was what he told himself. He knew it really was adorable.

That had been half an hour ago.

"I'm not saying they don't exist," Eddie was saying now. He was sitting on Richie's kitchen counter, swinging his feet to the beat of Toto's Waiting For Your Love . Richie had chosen this album when they had first come in - it's a fucking masterpiece , he had insisted.. "I'm sure they do. But why would they come to Earth, build some big stone triangles, and then fuck off back to whatever planet they came from? It doesn't make sense."

"How should I know why?" Richie retorted. "We don't know their agenda. All we know is that there's no way humans in that time period could have built the pyramids without extraterrestrial help."

"They had slaves and pulleys! They could have done anything!"

Richie just shook his head and turned to stirring the vegetables. Across the room, the song faded out into record static; after a moment, the next one began. Richie's face split into a grin.

"What?" Eddie asked cautiously. That smile almost always meant he was going to do something stupid.

"This song," said Richie. He lowered the heat on the stove and dropped his spatula on the counter in favour of rushing to the record player and turning up the volume. "It's my favourite," he shouted.

"We'll get a noise complaint," Eddie warned as the music filled the room, but Richie just grinned and turned it louder. Eddie sighed. On his own head be it .

Richie's smile was more than devious as the music began to pick up and he made his way back to where Eddie was sitting. He was swaying his hips from side to side in what Eddie thought might have been an attempt at dancing. He held out his hands invitingly as he came nearer.

"No," said Eddie firmly, gripping the edge of the counter. "I don't dance."

Richie nodded and wiggled his eyebrows as if to say yes you do . He was right in front of Eddie now, practically standing between his legs. Richie took hold of both of his wrists, gently prying his hands from the counter and swaying them back and forth to the beat of the song. Eddie shook his head, blushing fiercely.