❦♰❀ reddie smut ☿✿☆

78. friday night

by: bealrat

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Richie knew exactly how Eddie felt about routines. Where some may get bored, find them tedious or predictable, stifling, Eddie found peace. He was able to enjoy things more when he knew what to expect (to a certain extent), and this is how Richie could immediately tell that something was wrong when he heard Eddie's key turning in the lock after 7pm. He'd been asleep on the sofa, having knocked out while watching some old Netflix comedy special as he waited for Eddie to get home. That was over two hours ago...Eddie never stayed at the office past 5pm, especially without calling home to let Richie know.

Sure enough, as the door swung open it revealed a tense and angry-faced Eddie. He all but stomped inside, carrying a heavy looking box and sparing only a glance and a nod in Richie's direction before kicking his shoes off, just dropping his messenger bag (along with the mystery box) on the floor.

Red flag number two, Richie thought. There was a coat and shoe rack in the entryway, which he would sometimes ignore, but Eddie never did. Red flag number three came in the form of pills rattling around in a bottle. Eddie had come a long way since his placebo days in Derry (spurred on by his mother) and from his drugstore-behind-the-bathroom-mirror days in New York (spurred on by Myra). But he still had the occasional setback, as anyone would.

Richie could see that the bottle in his boyfriend's hand was merely Tylenol, but he still felt the urge to swoop in. If Eddie was in a negative emotional state, he knew how easy it could be for the one Tylenol to turn into two, into a hospital visit just to be sure it wasn't an aneurysm "sneaking up on him."

"Hey Eds," he blurted, causing the frazzled man to jump and drop the bottle from his grasp. His eyes shot to Richie, glaring. Richie just smiled charmingly (or what he hoped would pass for charming). He got up quickly, crossing over to where Eddie stood in the kitchen and wrapped him up in a tight hug. He tucked his chin on top of Eddie's head and ignored that Eddie had stiffened slightly. "Bad day?"

Eddie sighed. He was quiet for a moment and then it was like a dam inside of him had burst. "It's just that I am so sick of people treating me like I'm incompetent! I literally just transferred to this office from the one in New York. I am in the same fucking position, and it is a fucking high one! But does anyone act like I deserve to be there? No. They act like I'm clueless and new, when I've already brought in a ton of clients and fixed a fucking ass ton of their mistakes! Do they really think I'm just staying late for fun? Because, guess what, I'm not! What I'm doing is cleaning up after them, repeatedly, and have they ever thanked me? Also no! Because for some reason, they don't trust me. But I know what the fuck I'm doing, Richie!" He breathed hard, fists clenched in the back of Richie's shirt where he'd made no move to unattach himself from the embrace, despite his ranting.

"You absolutely know what you're doing. You know what everyone is doing before they do it," Richie agreed. "Don't take their shit, Spaghetti. They begged you to take the job when you moved out to L.A."

Eddie let out a bitter laugh. "When have you ever known me to take anyone's shit? I told my boss he can take his shitty opinions and shove them back up his ass where he pulled them from."

Richie's eyebrows shot up. A grin took over his entire face as he pushed Eddie back by the shoulders to see him.

Eddie's brows drew closer together upon seeing Richie's delight. "What?"

"Eddie."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Don't start with me right now, Richie, okay? I know your inner Trashmouth must be so proud, but I'm not. I'm an adult. That was my job," he frowned.