Reddie One Shots

Cheesey 1a.m. Writing

"Bev, if I tell you this, you have to promise to keep your mouth shut. Like, you can't even tell Ben. Promise me."

Beverly searched for any hint of the usual joking nature in Richie's face, but there was none to be found. Richie had never been more serious than he was in that moment.

Bev swallowed dryly and nodded. "Yeah, sure, just tell me why you've been acting more like a fucking weirdo than usual."

"I-I don't really know how to say this or what to do and I'm kind of-"

"My god, Tozier. Cut the bullcrap and just tell me already," Bev said, rolling her eyes exasperatedly.

Richie sighed and pulled a small black box out of his back pocket.

Eyes widening, Bev clapped her hands to her mouth. "Oh. My. God," she gasped. "Oh my God. Oh my God."

Richie smiled and put a finger to his lips, gently placing the box back into his pocket. "Can you keep a secret?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Bev murmured breathlessly. "Yeah, of course. I won't tell anyone."

"I don't know how to do it. I've had the ring for like a week now and I still have no fucking  clue.  So I figured you're a girl. Girls like romantic stuff, right?"

Bev responded with a clear view of her middle finger.

"Okay, okay, maybe I deserved that. But please, Bev, I need you. This has to be perfect, absolutely perfect. Just like him. Please, Redhead," Richie begged.

Bev stared her best friend in the eyes, reading his expression. It didn't take an Einstein to see that Richard Tozier was a gone man. Ever since they were kids, Richie had looked at Eddie like he was the most beautiful person on God's green Earth.

And Beverly Marsh would make damn sure that Richie's proposal would be the most flawless moment in history.

"Alright how about this," Bev leaned over the café table and told Richie her plan.

•••••••••••••••

Richie set the table as Eddie finished cooking. It was spaghetti night. Richie's favorite.

His hands shook as he lit the candles on the table. His coke-bottle glasses sat unused on the nighttable; he had opted for contacts. After all, it was a special occasion.

"Rich, are you done out there?" Eddie called from the kitchen. "Food's ready."

Richie gulped. "You know it, Spaghetti baby," he sang, desperately trying to keep the nervous quiver from seeping into his voice.

Eddie came in with two plates of spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread on the side. He set the plates down on the table and looked up at Richie. "Look at you all dressed up... is that champagne?"

"Uh, yeah Steve gave it to me for good luck with the promotion so I figured why not have it for spaghetti night?"

"Oh, that was nice of him," Eddie replied, smiling more or less because Richie was wearing a bow tie and that just looked fucking adorable.

Richie pulled out Eddie's chair so he could sit down. Eddie expressed his gratitude with a kiss on Richie's cheek before he sat down and let Richie push him in.

Eddie's eyes followed Richie as he crossed the room to sit down. "Damn. Somebody's in a gentlemanly mood," he marveled.

"Always, sugar," Richie purred. He didn't notice Eddie bite his bottom lip.

There was a reason spaghetti night was Richie's favorite: Edward Kaspbrak's spaghetti would make Gordon Ramsay cry tears of joy. That night was no different.

Sure, Eddie was still wearing his hospital scrubs, but he looked perfect to Richie, just like always. Eddie began eating and for a moment Richie could do nothing but watch. He blinked a few times before picking up his own fork and beginning to eat. His hands were still shaking, and the fork clinked against the plate a few times.  He looked up nervously and saw Eddie staring at him quizzically.

Richie opened his mouth to offer some kind of explanation regarding why he was acting like such an idiot, but nothing came out. Staring into the eyes of the most beautiful man he'd ever met, Richie "Trashmouth" Tozier was, for once in his life, rendered speechless.

Eddie merely smiled and shook his head, returning his attention to his food. Richie smiled a bit and began to relax. He could finally enjoy his spaghetti. After dinner was over, Richie took care of the dishes and brought out the champagne with two glasses. He poured it without a word.

When he had finished pouring, Eddie rose from his chair and held up his glass. "To us." He winked.

Richie blushed slightly and touched his glass to Eddie's. "To us." They drank.

"Eds."

Eddie hummed his response, still drinking.

"I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my life."

"I love you too, Rich," Eddie responded.

They put their glasses back on the table and kissed. Richie wrapped an arm around Eddie's waist and pulled him closer, the other reached behind him and dug through his pocket.

Eddie pulled away and rested his hands on Richie's chest. He looked up at him with deep chocolate brown eyes.

Richie hugged him tight, then lifted him off his feet into the air. He twirled him around and set him back down on the ground.

Laughing, Eddie pressed another kiss onto Richie's lips. "I love you, I love you, I love you."

Richie smiled against his lips. "Right back atcha," he sighed happily. "Hey, Eddie."

"Yeah?"

"Look at your hand, love."

Eddie raised an eyebrow before glancing down at his right hand.

"The other one, baby."

Eddie switched his attention from his right hand to his left hand. There was a silver band resting snugly around his ring finger.

Eddie gasped, "Richie- I-" He wrapped his arms around his neck and kissed him once more, moving up to his tip toes.

Richie kissed back, laughing a bit at Eddie's reaction. 'We got it right, Bev,' he thought.

Eddie pulled back and looked at his hand once more. He directed his attention up to Richie, looked in his eyes, and said one word.

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes!"

Richie gaped at his fiance for a few seconds before Eddie yanked him into a long, tight embrace, tears running down his face. Both felt like they were walking on air. The moment was almost dreamlike.

"I love you, Spaghetti."

"I love you, Trashmouth."

And to that, they toasted.