A Bed For Two ✔️ Reddie

Sunday Night

Neither Richie nor Eddie knew what to expect when they came back to their bedroom Sunday night. They'd been stealing glances at each other all day, occasionally grinning, but they felt like they were on display with the other Losers around.

They became overtly aware of how their every interaction could be interpreted as flirtation, just how often they were expected to rib on each other, curse at each other, pair up together. They couldn't look at each other for too long without blushing at the memories of the early morning; their minds swam with endless questions that kept them distanced from their environments.

Richie and Eddie changed into their pyjamas in silence and climbed into the bed. They lay beside each other on their backs, not touching, staring straight up at the blank ceiling as though it may suddenly inscribe the answers to the questions they weren't facing.

Richie was the one to break the stillness. 'Eddie?'

Eddie swallowed. 'Yeah?'

Richie raised his hand to graze lightly at Eddie's shoulder. 'I can't sleep again.'

'Thank God,' Eddie said, turning over and climbing on top of Richie, smashing their lips together desperately, hungrily.

Richie felt like he'd reached paradise. Eddie's light, lithe form atop him, legs bent at the knee, arms pinned either side of Richie's head, lips dancing over his face; he could hardly think of a time when he'd been happier, more excited, more intrigued.

They broke away and Eddie licked his lips. Richie still tasted of the mint from his toothpaste. 'Richie,' he started, uncertain if now was the best time to ask, but he felt that if he didn't, he might explode. 'What is this?'

'I don't know,' Richie said, which was half the truth. He knew what he wanted it to be, what it was for him, but he didn't know what it was for Eddie, whether they were on the same page.

'What,' Eddie tried again, his gaze spanning the contours of Richie's body, 'are we?'

'We're,' Richie frowned, 'still friends, if that's what you're worried about.'

'I'm not worried, I'm just asking,' Eddie said quietly, then kissed him again. He kissed across the freckled cheek to Richie's ear, behind it and down the tendon taut in his neck. 'Do you have any other,' he bit lightly, 'friends,' he bit again, 'that you've done this with?'

Richie's back arched, his nails digging into the skin on Eddie's shoulders. 'No,' he said honestly. 'Do you?'

'No,' Eddie said, moving to kiss Richie's chest. The hairs tickled lightly under his chin and under his nose. He smelled like woodchips and fresh air. 'Do you have any other friends that you've,' he raised his head and kissed Richie's lips, 'thought about doing this with?'

Richie had thought about kissing just about everyone he'd ever met. All the Losers, certainly. Several teachers. Other students. Even strangers at the mall. But it wasn't the same as when he thought about kissing Eddie. Kissing Eddie was something he'd obsessed over, ritualistically, worshipping. And he'd not felt like that about anyone else.

He compromised, 'Maybe once or twice. You?'

Eddie agreed, 'Maybe once or twice,' and it was accurate enough. He'd had a couple of fleeting crushes, people that he'd found attractive and wondered what it might be like to kiss them. He'd forced it a good few times too, when he looked at girls that Richie said were pretty, but it didn't make him feel much of anything. The idea of kissing Richie, however, was pervasive, staking its claim of its own volition, and it always made his stomach knot.

After another deep kiss, Eddie asked the question he'd been building up to. 'Have you ever thought about doing this with me before?'

Richie figured at this point, he could probably start telling the truth. 'Yeah. I have.' His heart skipped a beat. 'You?'