79. sunday morning

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by: bearkat

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It had been over a year since Derry. Eddie had finally thrown caution to the wind after his near-death experience and decided to leave his whole life (and marriage) behind. He felt like a completely new man these days, happy and alive rather than numb and miserable. He figured that killing an evil, intergalactic clown-spider may have some big effects on people that way. But he knew he mostly had Richie to thank, at the end of the day. He gave him somewhere to go, something to run towards. Someone to love. Eddie didn't know if he'd ever truly get used to that—the idea of being truly in love, and with someone who loved him back. Not for what he could give him or do for him, but because of who he was. A life built on want, not on obligation.

He was smiling to himself, pondering this as he gathered his cleaning supplies from the hall closet. One thing that hadn't changed was his need to keep himself and his surroundings clean, clean, clean. He wasn't so frantic about it now that he was in a better headspace, but he did religiously stick to his Sunday cleaning routine. It was different now, though; he didn't feel that sense of panic & imminent death that used to plague him when he didn't scrub things every day. Now, it just brought him peace to know all the deep cleaning would be taken care of on the weekend, so that during the week he and Richie would be able to relax and spend time together after work...For the most part. They still had to pick up after themselves. They weren't animals.

He was snapped out of his reflection by the sound of their front door closing. He padded out into the entryway, cocking his head to the side as he watched Richie toe his shoes off and place them on the rack. It was only 9:15, and Richie typically worked until at least 2PM on Sundays. He was writing for a TV show as a temporary side gig between tours, because it paid well and he seemed to really like it. He started calling out to Eddie, clearly not aware that he was standing right there since his back was turned to him.

"Hey, Spaghetti! Great news, you get to spend the whole day with me!" He shrugged his jacket off, placing it on the hook. "A couple of the others called in sick today, so we decided to just come home!"

Eddie laughed. "Rich, stop yelling. I'm right here."

Richie spun around, starting to grin before he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of his boyfriend. "Oh, shit. Eds. You are straight out of my thirteen year old wet dreams right now."

Eddie felt his cheeks heat up at that. He hadn't been thinking about what he was wearing. Just a pair of short shorts, and he realized that yeah, they were not unlike the kind he had worn as a kid. He didn't like wearing shirts while cleaning their place, in case he got sweaty. Plus, he didn't want to spill bleach on anything. He thought all of this defensively, a reflex from his old life. Myra made him explain his every move, usually finding fault with all of them somehow. Richie didn't even question Eddie. He seemed delighted, actually, to see him standing there shirtless in tiny shorts.

"Don't get too excited. I always wear this to clean," he held up the supplies in his hand. "You're just not usually here to see it..."

Richie smirked, stepping into Eddie's space and pecking him on the lips as his arms snaked around his bare waist. "A true tragedy, that is. Although probably for the best because you'd never get anything done otherwise."

"Oh, is that so?" Eddie asked, pulling back to get out his swiffer duster before Richie really could distract him.

Richie was not deterred. "That is so," he said solemnly. His eyes roamed hungrily over Eddie.

"Sorry, babe. If you think I'm gonna skip cleaning day to have sex with you, then you do not know me at all," he chuckled. He started to move about the apartment, dusting things here and there. He could still feel Richie's eyes on him.

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