Reddie Oneshots

eddie saves richie (in a bar) (mega cute) (smut)

on ao3 by ShowMeAHero
⚠️smut⚠️
💖a lil fluffly💖

-

Richie can feel someone down the bartop staring at him, so he keeps his eyes fixed down, his face burning. He's pretty sure it's probably someone who just saw him bomb at the comedy club next door, and he's already mortified enough without someone approaching him about it. When whoever it is comes over and slides onto the barstool next to him, it makes his stomach turn, and he sighs.

"Look like you're having a rough night," a guy says. Richie glances over at him; he's tall, broad, shaggy-blonde and square-jawed. Richie doesn't really want to talk to him.

"Yeah, I guess," Richie says.

"We don't have to talk about it," the guy tells him. Richie looks away, stirring his Long Island iced tea in the hopes that a lack of sustained eye contact will give the guy a hint. "We don't have to talk at all, if you don't want to."

"Look, can you just—" Richie starts, then stops, because he doesn't even know what to tell this guy. I'm feeling too shitty to entertain any interaction with some stranger who just sees me as another hole to fuck seems too aggressive, but it's his only real idea, so he just keeps his mouth shut instead.

"Can I just...?" the guy beside Richie parrots, waiting for more. Richie shakes his head, staring down into his drink as he sips it. He's still fucking miserable, embarrassed and exhausted and sad. "You want another drink?"

"No, thank you," Richie replies. The guy waves for the bartender anyways. Richie just drops his chin into his hand and keeps looking down into his glass. The guy's still talking, something about the friends who brought him here and how he just broke up with some other guy and then Richie loses the thread of the monologue.

"You seem down," the guy says, a few minutes later. Richie hasn't touched the drink the guy got for him, because he doesn't want to feel obligated to him, but the longer the guy talks the more Richie wants to drink.

"Yeah, sort of," Richie says. The guy claps him on the shoulder, then leaves his hand there, holding him tight. Richie finally looks up again, ready to brush him off, but the guy's right in his face. It strikes Richie that they don't even know each other's names.

"Wanna go outside?" the guy asks. Richie shakes his head. "Well, then, why—"

"Hey, sorry I'm late, babe," another man's voice says. That's all the warning Richie has before his head is being turned and his mouth is abruptly a breath away from someone else's, and the new man whispers, "Is this okay?"

They're so close that Richie can barely see the man's face, but what he can see is dark hair and big brown eyes and so he nods dumbly. The man pulls him into a kiss, which isn't what Richie had been expecting but he really hadn't been expecting anything, and his entire brain screeches to a halt. He'd been about to respond, to say, "Yeah, this is fine," when the man had started to kiss him, and so the kiss doesn't even start chaste; it fucking begins with his mouth already open, and this man just rolls with the punches, pretends it was intentional and licks behind Richie's teeth.

Richie can't help but moan into the man's mouth. He shifts, twisting on his barstool to fully face the new stranger and cup his face in his hands. His attention span is garbage, so he can already feel his bad mood draining out of his body, replaced with a rush of adrenaline from being wanted by someone who looks as hot as this guy and the heat of arousal from being kissed by said guy. It's only then that Richie realizes his eyes are still open, and he probably looks like a freak. He can't stop looking at the guy, though.

He's so fucking handsome, at least half a foot shorter than Richie but with strong arms and a face made of hard, masculine lines that soften when Richie touches them with his fingertips. Richie's not even the one who pulls back first, it's the other guy, who looks up at him with his pupils so blown his eyes look black now.