5555 reddie (Completed)

Part 8

"What?" asks a confused Eddie. He sits up suddenly and purses his lips. "Oh. How long was I out?"

"Long enough for me to get us a room. Come on, oh tired one." Eddie groans and rubs his face. "I'll carry you to our room. Can't have precious Spaghetti falling over his tired feet."

"Shut up," Eddie says tiredly. "I know how to walk, Richie."

"T'was just an offer." Richie shrugs and throws his keys at Eddie through the window. "Start up the car and shut the windows for me, would ya?"

"If I must." Eddie does as he's told. It only takes a few minutes. Then they are walking to their room and unlocking it, and collapsing on the double bed centered in the room. They have been sharing a bed since this journey began, because a room with two beds is pricier, and because Richie pretends like he doesn't mind how Eddie's arms always seem to find him during the night. "I'm so tired. And cold. Boost the heat up." It is not a question, but an order, and seeing as Richie is going to shower now anyway, he forces himself to his feet and goes over to the thermostat. He turns it up to 72 degrees, hoping that is high enough to satiate Eddie's needs.

"I'm gonna shower now," he tells Eddie, but he's sure Eddie has already fallen back asleep. Staring at Eddie like this, his head shoved into a pillow and the same old clothes clinging to his body, Richie wishes they had more than just the sweaters on their backs. He wishes they were rich, and that they could go shopping for bright clothes and comfortable pajamas, that they didn't have to strip down to their boxers each night to feel a little more at home. He wishes so many things.

The shower is spacious, surprisingly, but the water pressure is too high and the droplets hit Richie with a jolt every time. It feels similar to being jabbed a million times. But Richie powers through, washing his hair with the motel shampoo and conditioner, gliding his soapy hands over his body in attempt of scrubbing himself clean enough to last a few days. He doesn't linger too long, because he knows that Eddie will want to shower and that a place as rundown as this motel does not have an endless supply of hot water. So he steps out after a few minutes and dries his hair off, tugging the same shirt over his head and the same boxers over his legs, but leaves his jeans on the railing propped against the toilet.

"Eddie," he says as he steps out of the bathroom and sees that Eddie is still sleeping. He has not moved an inch. The sight brings a sweet smile to Richie's face. "Eddie. You're gonna wanna shower now and not in the morning when everybody else is showering. They'll use up all the hot water and you'll be a grump for the whole day." And Richie knows Eddie is asleep, but continues talking, because sometimes it is easier talking to Eddie like this than when he is awake and snappy. "A cute grump, but still a grump. So get up." Finally Richie walks over to Eddie's sleeping body and shakes him. "Get uuuuuup."

Eddie stirs awake and glares at Richie. "What," he says, annoyed.

"Go shower, smelly," Richie replies.

"Go fuck yourself, asshole," Eddie says, closing his eyes and turning on his side. Richie lets out a low whistle.

"Angry Eddie is angry," Richie says.

"I'm only angry because you woke me up," Eddie mumbles. "I was having a nice dream."

"About me?" Richie teases.

The last thing he's expecting to hear in reply is, "Yeah. You were there." Richie feels his cheeks warm. Flattery eats at his stomach and... something else does, too.

But then Eddie lets out a loud laugh, exclaiming, "I got you! You wish." And for some reason, Richie finds himself thinking: yeah, I do wish.