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stellar-alley · 4 years

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Of Scales and Sea Glass

•Chapter 4•

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

(Summary: Richie literally finds out what it's like to be a fish out of water.)

Also shout out to @ambitiousskychild on tumblr for being my beta!

Eddie jolted upright in bed at the sound of screaming, Richie screaming.

“EDDIE!” Richie shouted, “EDDIE”.

Eddie threw the covers off of him and jumped out of bed. Adrenaline pumped through his veins as he ran to the bathroom.

Someone’s in the house, someone’s found Richie, he got out of the tub somehow, his wounds opened up again, his scales fell off, he broke his glasses-

Eddie’s entire being froze at the sight of what was in his bathtub.

He has legs. HOLLY SHIT HE HAS LEGS, AND HE’s- oh god he’s naked, so naked…

“What. The. Fuck.” Eddie’s jaw was on the floor, eyes wide with shock.

“You can say that again! I’VE BEEN DECAPITATED!” Richie shouted, obviously confused and angry.

He was still in the tub, and his upper half hadn't changed, no that was the same…. But it was his lower half. Instead of a long blue tail that flopped over the edge, Richie had long pale legs. They were as smooth as a baby’s butt, with feet and toes and everything. Eddie’s gaze flickered over to his hands that were running up and down his new legs. The human noticed the lack of claws and webbing that once connected his fingers. And there were no scales whatsoever.

“Holly shit,” Eddie gapped, unable to form any other sentence that wasn’t filled with pure and utter shock. He felt like he was gonna pass out.

Richie has legs. Like- actual legs, no tail or scales, just legs, human legs.

“Eddie fucking Kaspbrak what the hell did you do to me?” He demanded, his eyes still as blue as ever, but now there was a fire that burned behind them.

“ME? How is this my fault?” Eddie demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Something inside him warmed at the continuation of their iconic banter.

“Who else could it have been? The damn tooth fairy?” Richie ran his hands through his hair, suddenly the anger replaced by fear. “What happened to me?” His voice grew quiet.

Eddie grabbed the shirt he’d gotten from Bev and tossed it at Richie. “Cover that up,” he gestured to his privates.

“EDDIE THIS IS SERIOUS!” Richie tried to sound serious but now he was kinda over being shocked. “How did this even happen…?” He closed his eyes and pushed his glasses up his face so he could rub his eyes.

Eddie began investigating the tub for some magical crab or weird potion, instead he found the red button had been pushed. “Fucking hell…” He turned to the mer, “Did you push the button after I explicitly told you not to?”.

Richie’s face went blank, “Maybe…”.

“You dumbass! That button drains the water from the tub! The lack of water must’ve caused all this,” Eddie vagley gestured to Richie’s new legs.

“HEY! How the hell was I supposed to know what’d happen? God- fuck can you just get me out of the damn tub? I don’t wanna be in here longer than I have to be.” Richie held his arms up and did the little grabby motion with his hands.

“You’re sooooo needy,” he dragged out the O in an over dramatic tone. “First put the fucking shirt on so I don’t have to keep staring at your junk,” Eddie ordered as he crossed his arms over his chest. He looked the other way to give Richie some privacy.

Richie sighed, “And you say I’m the dumbass. I’ve never worn a fucking shirt before!” Richie threw the shirt at Eddie’s head.

Eddie began to laugh as he yanked the shirt off his face, “Oh god. We’re so sad.” He shook his head.

Richie couldn’t help but join in, Eddie’s laugh was contagious. “Whatever, I’m sorry Spaghetti, just please help me,” Richie said, his tone was not serious but the message was.

Eddie got Richie to lift his arms over his head and the human pulled the shirt onto the mer. He fixed the arms as Richie looked down at the design and scoffed. After Eddie wrapped an arm around Richie and helped him up and scooped him out of the tub. Once Richie’s feet were flat on the bathroom floor, he leaned on Eddie and straightened up, standing tall. Eddie’s stomach dropped as he noticed the height Richie now had over him.

It didn’t take too long for Richie to catch on, and when he did, a devious smirk played over his lips. Looking down at Eddie he cooed, “Hey short stuff.”

“Hey chicken legs,” Eddie retorted, staring down at Richie’s bony legs.

“I don’t even know what that means,” Richie smiled at his human.

Sure it was a struggle but Eddie got Richie into his room and helped him into a pair of his bigger shorts. Even though they were big on Eddie, they were a little tight on Richie, but even if he did mind, he didn’t mention it. They were red and rode half way up the mer’s thighs. Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t stare at the view for the first few seconds when Richie initially put them on. But he snapped himself out of his little horny trance as he knew they both needed to eat.

Let’s just say that going down the stairs while supporting someone who’s taller than you, who’s also never walked before, is hard to say the least. But once they finally made it into the kitchen, Eddie sat Richie down in a chair and went to go start making food.

After brunch, Eddie was determined to help Richie learn to walk, or at least stand on his own. Since Eddie was not going to be able to withstand much more of all this physical labour, he could already feel his bones aching from the amount of lifting he’s been doing lately. So they started with the basics: standing.

Eddie helped Richie off the chair and held onto his hands (while ignoring the heat in his cheeks) as he let Richie find his balance (which he didn’t have a lot of). The mer wiggled and wobbeled before he was able to straighten his knees and tilt his chin up. Eddie took a step backwards, in hopes of getting Richie to follow, but instead it ruined his center of gravity and Richie began to fall forward.

The two landed on the kitchen floor with a big thump. They both moaned and groaned.

“We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” Richie mused from where he laid, on top of Eddie.

“Heh… Yeah,” Eddie agreed, but in all honesty he kinda liked the closeness (aside from the sprouting pain in his back). Richie was all warm and clingy, a new side he’s been able to experience since he’s gotten legs.

By the time dinner rolled around, Richie was able to safely say he could stand on his own, and walk slowly. This made it a hell of a lot easier on Eddie when it was time for them to head upstairs for bed. Instead of Richie leaning all of his weight on the shorter male, he simply kept one arm on the banister and the other around Eddie’s waist.

“Okay, so I’ll grab a pillow and a blanket and sleep for you for the tub-” Eddie began before he was interrupted by Richie.

“What? No way in hell am I going back to the tub,” Richie complained from where he stood in Eddie’s room, watching Eddie rifle through his closet.

“Fine. You take my bed while I go sleep on the couch in the living room,” Eddie offered, finally finding a spare blanket, he flung it at Richie.

The blanket covered Richie’s head, he yanked it off, messing up his hair (Eddie found it adorable). “What? Eddie, no. This is your house, you take the bed,” Richie insisted as he balled up the blanket in his hands.

“Whatever you say Trashmouth, you want the couch you get the couch-”

“No- holy shit you’re clueless. Eddie, sleep with me.”

Eddie stopped, dropping the pillow in his hands. “W-What?” His voice shook.

“There’s clearly enough space for both of us in your bed, so I don’t see why we can’t just fucking sleep togeher,” Richie wildly guestured to Eddie’s queen-sized bed.

Of course that’s what he meant. It’s not like he’d want to actually sleep with you…

“Oh! Um- If that’s alright with you,” Eddie scrambled to grab the pillow he dropped.

Richie scoffed, finding flustered Eddie cute. “I’m the one that offered.”

Eddie mentally slapped himself. “Yep, right, sorry,” he stumbled on his words.

I sound like fucking Bill.

With that the two boys got ready for bed, Richie simply staying in the clothes he’d been wearing as they were comfy and still clean. While Eddie scurried off to the bathroom to change into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a vintage Voltron shirt. The two shuffled into bed, Eddie stayed on the very edge as he worried he’d internally combust if he continued to be so close to Richie. While Richie tossed and turned in an attempt to find a good position.

“Goodnight Eddie,” Richie said before a yawn escaped his lips.

Eddie looked over at the beautiful boy in his bed and smiled to himself. “Goodnight Richie.”

Eddie opened his eyes, and he couldn’t see. The water that engulfed him blurred his vision. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he last took a breath. Maybe that’s why his lungs burned like the fires of hell. Suddenly he couldn’t stop himself, and he opened his mouth, determined to breath, but instead was met by a mouthful of cold, salty water.

“Eddie!” A distant voice called out to him.

Something glowed off in the distance, it came into view as Eddie’s vision began to haze. It wasn’t just a fish, it was a mermaid, his merman.

Richie.

“EDDIE!” The voice was now louder, closer.

Suddenly Eddie was gasping for air as someone shook his shoulders.

His vision cleared and he saw Richie leaning over him, eyes filled with concern. “Eddie! Hey, are you okay?” His voice trembled as he hesitated to let go.

Eddie had trouble forming words, the nightmare still fresh in his mind. Then, he became aware of the thick layer of sweat covering his body, and how oddly wet his face had become. He’d been crying. He didn’t know what to do, what to say. So instead of answering he simply wrapped his arms around Richie and buried his face into his neck.

Richie immitaly hugged Eddie back, rubbing soft circles into his back with one hand while the other held Eddie’s head as he softly sobbed. “Hey… It’s okay. I’m here now, you’re safe,” Riche cooed, softly stroking Eddie’s hair. The two had been sitting up for a while, so Richie slowly lowered them down to lie on their sides. The mer held his human and whispered sweet nothings to him until they both drifted off to sleep.

Eddie woke up to find an arm draped over his torso as he huddled close to Richie’s chest. As much as his thoughts told him to move, to go make breakfast, to not get attached because of the inevitable, he stayed there. He stayed in Richie’s arms and let the world turn around them.

“‘Morning Eds,” Richie croaked.

Eddie melted at the sound of Richie’s morning voice, low and gravely. He tensed, about to slither out of Richie’s grasp before he could let go, but instead of letting go, he held Eddie tighter. Eddie melted even further, thankful for the warmth the mer brought him.

“How was your sleep? Better?” Richie asked, running his hand through Eddie’s messy morning hair.

“Better” Eddie confirmed.

Eddie was a bit distant for the next couple of days. His eyes couldn’t properly focus on anything and his mind was all hazy. Richie noticed and tried to ask him about it but Eddie just disregarded him, saying he was fine even though Richie could tell he clearly wasn't.

Eddie might act oblivious but he knew well enough. He knew that everyday he spent with Richie would only make his feelings stronger, making it so much harder to let him go when the time came.

One night after dinner, Richie had fallen asleep on the couch. When he woke up again, the house was dark, and Eddie wasn't beside him.

“E-Eds?” Richie groaned as he slid his glasses on. He sat upright and looked around the silent house. “Eddie!” he called out again.

Carefully, Richie stood up from his seat on the couch and took a couple steps towards the kitchen. He was halfway there when a cool breeze blew past. He looked in the direction of the wind and saw the screen door was open. Richie let out a sad sigh. “Eddie…”. He grabbed a blanket from the couch, wrapped it around his shoulders and proceeded to shuffle towards the door.

Another gust of wind blew past as Richi stepped out onto the back patio, he shivered under the warm fabric of the blanket.

Eddie sat on the first step of the patio, knees pulled closed to his chest, his arms folded overtop and his head down. Neither of them spoke as Richie sat down beside him. He felt Richie scoot a little closer, their knees bumping against each other and their shoulders brushing each other.

Richie didn’t ask if Eddie was okay, because the answer was obvious, so instead he asked, “Are you cold?”

Eddie simply responded, “No”.

Richie huffed. “That’s such bullshit”.

In response Eddie let out a breath of air from his nose as his lips smiled a sad smile. Without another word, Richie got as close as he could, and wrapped a blanketed arm over Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie unwillingly melted into Richie’s touch, leaning a head against him.

“What’s been going on with you lately?” Richie rubbed Eddie’s arm.

Eddie didn’t meet Richie’s gaze, nor did he answer the question. Instead he looked out into the ocean that sat before them and asked, “Do you miss it?” his voice weak and distant.

“Yeah, Eddie, I do. I spent my entire life there.” He paused to collect his thoughts. “But that doesn't mean that’s where I wanna spend the rest of my life. It means that I like spending time here, here, on land, with you,” Richie elbowed Eddie slightly.

Eddie stiffened and pushed away from Richie so he could turn to look at him for the first time during their conversation.

“What does that even mean?” His face scrunched up in confusion.

“I mean what I said, Eddie! I like it here, I like you, I thought all the hints were kinda fucking obivious,” Richie turns red as he gushes.

Eddie’s breath hitched with the sudden wave of emotions that hit him. “Y-You like me…?” Eddie asked quietly.

“Yes, Eddie, I-I do. Like, a lot” Richie stumbled over his words as he began to worry that he said the wrong thing. “Sorry- I, um, that was stupid, I should’ve just kept my mouth shut-” Eddie shut him up by leaning in and kissing his lips.

The kiss lasted a couple of seconds, a spark ignited in the two as they pulled apart. “I like you too Rich, like, a lot,” Eddie admitted, quoting Richie.

Richie giggled like a little school girl, “Cool…” he blushed. “Can we uh- kiss again?” Richie requested sheepishly.

“I’d be pissed if we didn’t kiss again,” Eddie raised his eyebrows as Richie put a hand behind Eddie’s head and closed the distance between them.

This kiss was different from their first kiss, when Richie needed it purley to gather what he needed to be able to speak, but now there was more emotion in it. Something pure and raw that filled both of them with a warm feeling in their chests. Their lips moved insync, as if they were made for eachother, two puzzle pieces finally getting together.

Eddie broke away from Richie, his breath shaky as he spoke. “Richie we can’t do this. Y-You’re gonna leave one day-”

“One day,” Richie confirmed, “But not today, so please, can we just live in the moment? We don’t know when that day will come, but we’ll deal with it then. For now let’s just makeout, okay?”

Eddie thought about the hundreds of times he wished Richie would say that, and everytime he blocked the thought out, knowing one day Richie would leave. Today was not one of those days. For once, Eddie allowed himself to be happy and feel the emotions as they came. So that’s what they did, they made out.

“Okay we’ve gotta go shopping,” Eddie declared as he plopped down on his bed beside Richie, who was lying on his back, reading a comic book.

Richie dropped the comic onto his chest and looked over at his new boyfriend. “I have no clue what that is,” he said with a smile, excited.

“It’s when you go buy new clothes,” Eddie informed Richie as he laid down beside him.

“Why do you need new clothes?” Richie asked, turning onto his side to admire Eddie.

“Well we need to go shopping to get you some clothes. You can’t keep wearing my small clothes-”

“But I like them, they smell like you,” Richie whined as Eddie turned over.

“Well that won’t be too hard to fix now will it?” Eddie smirked as he slid closer to Richie. “I was thinking, this could also be a good chance for you to meet my friends,” Eddie suggested, nervous of the answer he’ll receive. It’s been about 3 weeks since Richie first washed into Eddie’s pool and one week since Richie got his legs. Since then, the mer has actually gotten pretty good at walking. Maybe not the best at running and dodging obstacles, but baby steps. Sure he still leans on Eddie sometimes but that’s more because he’s clingy and adores his short human.

“Wait- serious?!” Riche perked up, propping himself up on his elbows and looking down at Eddie, “That’d be so cool, I’ve been wanting to meet them for, like, ever,” Richie smiled.

“Really?” Eddie’s eyes widened in excitement.

“Yeah of course! Any friends of yours are friends of mine,” Richie smiled warmly, leaning down and giving Eddie a quick kiss.

The next day Eddie and Richie got ready and waited for Bill to come pick them up. Eddie wore a light blue tee he tucked into his jeans and he leant Richie another outfit of his, this time it was an old shirt his mom had bought from Freese’s that was too big on Eddie, yet it almost fit Richie like a crop top (and Eddie was loving it). Accompanied by a pair of old khaki shorts. The hardest part was when Eddie showed Richie what shoes were.

“Over my dead body,” Richie crossed his arms over his chest in protest.

“Well that can be arranged,” Eddie grumbled, jokingly.

Richie smirked and leaned down, wrapping an arm around Eddie and leaning his head on top of the short male’s. “What was that babe?”.

Eddie looked up at him. “You literally can’t go out without them.”

“I’ll wear them if I can be the small spoon tonight,” Richie stuck out his lower lip and widened his eyes, a face Eddie dubbed his sad puppy face.

“You’re so sad,” Eddie kissed him quickly before tossing the shoes at him.

It was a struggle but Eddie finally showed Richie how to tie his shoelaces. They both stood up at the sound of Bill honking his horn.

“Oh, it feels like my feet are in boxes,” Richie deadpanned as his knees wobbled again, just like they had when he first learned to walk. Immediately he stumbled, leaning on Eddie for support.

Eddie turned and looked at his boyfriend with concern. “You okay Rich?”

Richie nervously laughed and stood on his own, slowly finding his balance. “Yep! I’m all good.”

Eddie led Richie out and to Bill’s car, opened the back door, and slid in, beckoning for Richie to follow. Bev was already inside, she and Bill talking about something Georgie had done recently that resulted in him shooting milk from his nose.

“Eddie is this the dark and mysterious man you keep ditching us for?” Bev asked as she turned to face the two in the back seat.

Of course The Losers had picked up on Eddie’s constant disappearances, and Eddie couldn’t lie to save his life, so he admitted he met someone, an internet friend from out of state of course. He wanted to tell them the truth, he really did, but he didn’t feel right doing it without Richie beside him. So he did his best at lying, making up some elaborate story about how Richie was someone he’d met online and was moving to town and needed a place to stay. Also that he had social anxiety and needed time to settle in before he was ready to meet anyone. Eddie also sprinkled in the fact that said friend had some weird physical thing that meant he had trouble walking sometimes. Surprisingly, everyone bought it.

“Yep! Here he is, the elusive Richie,” Eddie laughed nervously.

Richie grinned and stuck his hand out. “Richie Tozier the honour is all mine.”

Bev reached out and shook his hand and Richie pulled her hand closer and kissed her knuckles, making her blush. Eddie couldn’t shake the twang of jealousy that shot through him.

“Beverly Marsh,” she introduced herself. “I’ve heard lots about you.”

“All terrible I assume?” Richie said in a british accent, he smirked and nudged Eddie.

Bev joined in, placing the back of her hand on her forehead. “Ah yes darling, terrible, absolutely wretched.” She swooned in a matching accent.

“I’m Bill,” the third male smiled warmly from the driver's seat.

Richie kept going, this time switching to a weatern accent. “Well howdy hey Big Bill. How’re you doing on this fine morn’?” The two shook hands.

“H-How’ve you been settling in?” Bill inquiries.

“Me? Oh I’m doin’ fine. Just livin’ my best life with my whittle Eddie.” He gave Eddie a peck on the cheek as Eddie stilled and Bev gasped.

“Eddie you didn’t tell me the site you met Richie on was a dating website?” Bev asks in shock at the sudden show of affection.

“N-No that’s not where we met-” Eddie started.

“What’s a dating webs-” Richie cut in.

“But YES! We’re dating” Eddie concluded, not wanting to dig himself into a hole or reveal too much about Richie.

“Wow E-Eddie didn’t think you were lo-looking for a relationship,” Bill winked at Eddie through the rearview mirror.

When the foursome arrived at the mall, Eddie jumped to get out of the car. He ran around to Richie’s side to help him out. Richie had never been in a car before, or in shoes. The last thing Eddie needed was for him to trip and fall flat on his face. As they walked towards the mall’s main entrance, Eddie kept a firm grasp on Richie’s hand. Yes he loved the physical affection but he was also determined to stay beside Richie so he didn’t get lost or kidnapped or something.

Let’s just say the mall blew Richie’s little fish brain. It was a little overwhelming. He almost fell over a couple of times, but he had Eddie to lean on.

As the four Losers walked into the main area of the mall, three of the four stiffened at the sound of a loud laughter that erupted from behind them. Richie almost kept walking until he felt Eddie’s hand tighten around his own. He stopped and looked around to see the other staring at something, someone.

“Well if it isn’t Derry’s resident Losers Club,” Henry Bowers called out as he and his goonies approached them.

“Fu-Fuck off Henry,” Bill hissed, steping infront of his friends in a defensive manner.

“Su-suck my d-dick Bu-Bu-Bill.” Henry’s friends laughed as he mocked Bill’s stutter.

Eddie looked up and shot Richie a worried glance.

Henry caught wind of their silent conversation and addressed it. “Well look at this, does little wheezy finally have a faggot boyfriend?”

Richie’s blood boiled at how much pleasure this brought the Bowers Gang. He drowned out their comments and focused on the drinks they held in their hands. Richie took a step back, pulling Eddie with him only moments before the drinks exploded, soaking the bullies in their sugary beverages.

The Losers didn’t wait to see Henry’s reaction as they used the explosion as a distraction to bolt from the bullies. Bill led the way with Bev in tow, Eddie pulled Richie along as they darted past stands and zig zagged between customers.

“That was amazing!” Eddie hollered, shooting Richie a proud grin as they finally slowed down.

They met up with the rest of The Losers Club at the food court.

Mike waved them down when he saw them enter. “Hey guys!” he greeted.

“Hey Mike,” Bill smiled and took the seat beside him.

Ben got up from his seat and offered it to Bev, she gave him a kiss on the cheek and took it, Ben stole a chair from the other table.

“Wait, where’s Stan?” Eddie questioned as he took a seat with Richie, across from Bill and Mike.

“He went to grab a smoothie,” Ben informed him.

“Okay I wanted to wait but guys, this is Richie, my uh-” Eddie hiestated, “boyfriend.”

“Hello,” Richie grinned and waved.

“Your what” Stan suddenly appeared behind Mike.

“Hey! Stanley’s here,” Eddie piped up.

“Yes, and he’s very curious. When did you two become an item? I thought you were online friends,” Stan handed Mike a smoothie and took the other seat beside him.

Richie opened his mouth to respond but Eddie spoke. “Yeah we’ve been online friends for a while, and when he came to stay with me, we realized we had feelings for eachother.” Eddie became tense, lying always made him nervous. Richie noticed and put a hand on his knee, relieving some of the stress. Eddie let out a breath.

The group went to various stores, Bev dragged them to makeup stores, Bill dragged them to bookstores, Mike (politely) dragged them to a kitchen appliance store (he likes cooking and needed a new whisk). Then they stopped in one of the big clothing stores and made a mutual agreement to go and look in their own sections as everyone had different styles.

For a change, Eddie let Richie pull him around as he wanted to let the mer choose his own clothes. After jokingly picking out a jockstrap and a D cup bra, he finally decided on a variety of Hawaiian shirts with loud prints, some shorts, a pair of jeans and an array of T shirts (Some plain, some graphic tees). Eddie showed him to the changing rooms and waited outside for Richie to change.

Richie carefully stripped and replayed the memories of Eddie getting dressed in hopes that he’d be able put everything on correctly. His first outfit was a Hawaiin shirt that was covered in pastel pink and blue flowers and a black muscle top, paired with a pair of black shorts. He stepped out of the changing room and shyly turned to Eddie who was now blushing at the sight of seeing Richie in something other than his own clothes.

“How do I look?” Richie asked, worried about the amount of colour.

“Richie you look really good,” Eddie smiled in approval.

Richie blushed but covered it up as he struck a pose, stroked his thigh and asked, “You like what you see?” He wiggle his eyebrows seductively.

Eddie covered his face with his hand, now red as a tomato and sighed. “You’re so weird.”

After a long Richie Tozier exclusive fashion show, he decided on the items he wanted to buy. He went back into the changerooms and put his normal clothes back on. When it came time to put his shoes on, he took a seat on the bench in the corner of the room and mindlessly itched his ankle. Something felt off.

Glancing down, Richie’s entire being froze at what he saw. A small patch of skin around his ankle had become tough, hard, and almost blue. Richie snapped his eyes shut. This cannot be happening. His breath hitched as he carefully traced the rough area with his fingers. If he focused hard enough he could feel the vague outline of scales.

He moved the hand from his ankle and raked it through his hair. He could feel tears biting at his eyes as he grimaced. “Fuck,” he weekly whispered.

“E-Eddie?” Richie quietly called out from the changeroom.

“Yeah, Rich, everything alright?” Eddie asked from outside the door.

Richie exhaled and asked Eddie to assist him with his shoes. Eddie wasted no time and slipped inside and did Richie’s shoes. Once they were both up and on their feet, Richie wrapped Eddie in a hug.

“What’s this for?” Eddie asked.

“I… I just really like you,” Richie breathed. One hand on Eddie’s neck while the other was in his hair, he held him tightly, as if he were about to pop a tail and get swept off by the tide.

“I really like you too Chee,” Eddie knew what he’d done the moment the word left his mouth.

Richie stopped and slowly, dramatically pulled away from Eddie, holding his shoulders tight. “D-Did my Eddie Spaghetti just create a nickname for me?” he gasped joyfully. He released Eddie’s shoulders and looked to the ceiling, fanning his eyes as if he was about to cry. “looks like miracles are real.”

“Oh god,” Eddie groaned as he hid his face in between Richie’s neck and his shoulder.

“Say it again! Say it again!” Richie begged as he pulled Eddie away so he could look at his face.

Eddie let the moment last, anticipation rising before letting out a soft. “Chee.” He watched his boyfriend literally melt at the words.

Richie leaned down and kissed Eddie, and in that moment there was nowhere else they would have rather been.

Word Count: 4995

Aw there's so much tooth-rotting fluff in this chapter I think I need to go to the dentist. LOL I'm a comedic god, I know. I hope that y'all enjoyed this chapter and are excited to see what happens next with Richie and that little patch of scales... Anyways until next time, So Long and Goodnight.

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vampire-email · 5 years

Text

while the rhythm of the rain keeps time: chapter two

ao3 link (kudos appreciated!)

from the beginning: ao3

Rating: General Audiences (subject to change)

Pairing: Dan Howell/Phil Lester

Chapter Word Count: 4,604

Full Word Count: 8,670

Summary: Phil didn’t very much like the rain, but at the same time, he didn’t very much dislike it, either.

It had a distinctly lonely feeling, like if he allowed himself to get lost in the sights and sounds and smells of the rain everything else would disappear and he’d become the only person in the world.

A little odd, yes, but some days he’d ache for this feeling. He wasn’t sure why, but sometimes all he’d crave was utter solitude, so he’d have space to think his own thoughts and exist without being a bother to anyone else.

a/n: a special thanks to my beta readers, @freckliedan, @shrugs-are-kinky, and @edgylester for making this fic possible! Go show them some love!

likes and reblogs appreciated!!

Chapter Two: Melt Your Headaches, Call It Home

Phil didn’t very much like the rain, but at the same time, he didn’t very much dislike it, either.

It was okay, he supposed.

It made his mornings a bit slower, he mused, but it was also kind of peaceful, listening to it pound the outside world tirelessly.

The rain was melancholy and somber, and it put Phil in an odd sort of mood where all he wanted to do was lay down outside in the grass and let it wash over him.

If it was warm enough. Cold rain was the worst. He was staying inside for that shit.

Today, unfortunately, he didn’t have any time to ponder the different ways rain made him feel, because he had a double shift at the Starbucks next to Tesco and it started in less than an hour and he hadn’t even gotten out of bed.

He’d recently taken up a second, part-time job because as it turns out, a job in graphic design didn’t exactly make the most money--and to put it bluntly, he was broke as fuck.

He went in to the office three times a week, and was expected to finish his assigned projects at home if they hadn’t been completed at work. Which was all fine and dandy, but the little ADHD monster that lived in his brain tended to grab the controls and make him do something utterly ridiculous like hyperfixate on the interesting article he was reading about children’s brain development instead of doing literally anything else he was supposed to.

He had actually been offered a home office, which would have been excellent in the fact that he would have been able to wear nothing but socks and a pair of boxers while working, but it also meant that he probably would have ended up lying on his back and watching the blades of the fan spinning and trying to count how many times they go around in a minute instead of getting any work done.

He was glad, at least, for the fact he had a steady income and he didn’t absolutely hate his job, no matter how slow it got sometimes.

Anyway, whenever it got boring he’d always end up doodling straight onto the desk he was sitting at (he’d have to wipe it off later) or coming up with elaborate daydreams in his head about scenarios that were completely unrealistic (that was the fun part).

Speaking of daydreaming--Phil reluctantly pulled himself back into the present and realized that he’d wasted ten minutes allowing his mind to wander as he sat in bed, being about as useful as a garbage bag full of rocks.

That was the one thing he didn’t like about his job--his mind wasn’t allowed to wander or else he’d lose track of time and five minutes turned into ten and ten minutes turned into thirty and suddenly he’d been thinking about absolutely nothing for the better part of an hour.

Unfortunately for Phil, he got most of his best ideas when he let his mind roam free, and sitting at a desk all day was the perfect way to kill all of his inspiration.

He wasn’t completely oblivious to what was going on inside his mind, however; he had seen a doctor about medication for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder and while it had worked pretty well at first, at some point or another the doses stopped working as well and it felt like the pills were only taking all his ADHD-fueled ideas and guiding them in the general direction of where they were supposed to go. The side effects were also awful--sometimes it seemed like any noise that was too loud or sudden could launch him into a panic attack and he often felt like vomiting.

He hadn’t had the time to go back to the doctor who had prescribed them in the first place, and so he’d just put the bottle on a high shelf and tried to forget about it.

Alongside battling his attention-disorder, Phil also had to deal with being both physically and mentally exhausted to the point of breaking due to his new part-time as a Starbucks barista.

He barely had any free time, either, and he usually spent his blessed days off sleeping for fourteen hours and ordering takeaway and playing Mario Kart on his couch alone.

Lovely.

With these thoughts in mind, Phil finally rolled out of his bed and dressed in the boring all-black that his job required he wear.

His mind still muddled with sleep (though thankfully warmed up by his wandering thoughts), Phil shuffled his way into the kitchen to get breakfast.

Pulling the coffeemaker towards himself and shoveling generous amounts of ground coffee inside it, Phil wondered if he’d have time to shower before heading to work. Probably not.

He lived close enough to walk to the cafe where he worked (not that he particularly wanted to--it was all drizzly and cold outside) and so he never had to worry about finding a method of transportation (he was awful at driving, the Tube gave him anxiety, and he didn’t have money to spare on cabs). He had a bit of time before he had to leave, enough to finish breakfast and sit and stare at the kitchen counter beneath his mug (or perhaps the telly) and wonder whether it was really worth getting out of bed this early for a job.

Shuffling around the kitchen and pulling a box of cereal from a cabinet, Phil made himself The Breakfast of Champions with little more than dry cereal and a big enough bowl (likely because of all the times his mum had chastised him for eating cereal with his hands straight out of the box, which resulted in a squirmy guilty feeling every time he did it).

There was, however, no point in using a spoon for dry cereal, which really only meant less dishes to wash later.

Pushing his glasses up his nose and sitting in front of the television, Phil wondered whether he could turn it on and watch half an episode without all his self-control going down the drain. Considering… er, previous events, Phil decided to keep the telly off or else he very well might end up marathoning The Office or Food Wars! instead of going to work like he was supposed to.

At least he knew what he was doing tonight.

Before he knew it, fifteen minutes had passed and he had to be at work in ten and he hadn’t even gotten his shoes on- but that was okay because they were just by the door, and so were his house keys-

Running back into his room to grab his phone and to turn off all the lights, Phil skidded back through the kitchen and nearly hit his head on a cabinet door he had forgotten to close.

Damn cabinets.

Phil slid his shoes on and slammed the door behind himself, barely remembering to lock it.

Walking briskly through the lobby of the apartment complex (his flat was on the ground floor, which was by far the Least Cool place he’s ever lived) and stepping through the double doors, Phil immediately found himself standing in the pouring rain.

He wished, as he always did whenever it rained, that he owned an umbrella.

It’s not like an umbrella is always first on his mental list of Things To Buy whenever he went to the store--after all, there were always much cooler and conventionally useful (he had always had trouble preparing for the future--which was why he currently lived on the first floor of an apartment building with one job in graphic design and another at Starbucks).

Phil resigned himself to walking along the sidewalk, already soaking wet and freezing. For God’s sake, it was June! Why was it so bloody cold outside?

Checking his phone and realizing that his shift was supposed to start in three minutes, Phil started walking slightly faster. He could always blame the rain for his tardiness.

By the time he finally set foot in the coffee shop and stepped behind the counter, the rain had relented slightly (although Phil was still very wet).

At the sound of his arrival, Devon (the shift manager) turned and regarded him with a look of slight disapproval.

“Phil, you’re late. Again.”

Phil swallowed. “I’m sorry, Devon- I lost track of time and it was pouring rain and I uh, forgot my umbrella-”

Devon dropped their stony disposition and grinned. “Yeah Phil, I’m sure you forgot your umbrella that totally exists. C’mon, we were gonna draw straws-” They guestured in the general direction of Alex and Liz, who waved, “-but since you’re the late one, you get to wipe the tables!”

Phil groaned exaggeratedly.

“C’mon, Devon, I did that last week! Besides, I’m all wet and-”

Devon held up their hand to hush Phil, and turned towards the back room, chucking an old towel at Phil.

Phil then proceeded to get hit in the face with said old towel, to which the people behind him burst out laughing.

Ignoring Liz and Alex’s giggling, Phil ripped the towel off his face and surveyed Devon with a look of mock disgust on his face.

“Fine,” Phil said haughtily, “but believe me, you’ll regret making me do this!”

Devon snickered.

“C’mon Lester, we don’t have time for dramatics. Just wipe the damn tables down and be done with it, okay?”

Phil rolled his eyes, hiding a smile on his face. Doing actual work might suck, but at least he wasn’t totally alone. His coworkers were pretty cool.

After wiping the tables down, Phil was instructed to make drinks for the morning stragglers with Liz as Alex manned the registers. Devon was in the back doing inventory- something that Phil was very glad he wasn’t in charge of.

Making drinks was fairly simple for the most part--save for the insanely complicated ones. Phil still hadn’t gotten the hang of doing the fancy ones with the custom flavors and customers who knew the menu better than he did--especially the Starbucks “secret menu,” which simply took drinks that already tasted good and added a bunch of complicated ingredients to them. Liz was in charge of those. Phil was fine with making lattes and frappuccinos and tea for now.

He and Liz made a great team, with Devon scrawling the abbreviation of the drinks on the cups and passing them to Phil, who glanced at the order and determined whether or not he could make themself. If not, he would have to pass them to Liz, who had been here for years and knew every possible combination like the back of her hand (that metaphor confused Phil. There wasn’t really anything that distinguished the back of one hand from another, unless you had a tattoo or something). Phil had only been here about a month, which immediately meant he was tasked with the more physical jobs, like sweeping the floor after the shop closed and taking care of the registers when nobody else wanted to.

Phil, Liz, and Alex continued working until about ten-thirty, when the lunch rush was just beginning.

That was when Alex, who looked even more exhausted than usual, took off her apron and hung it in the back. Devon stepped out, and stood in front of Liz and Phil.

There was a chocolate chip in their hair.

“Okay guys, Alex is taking her break and I need Phil to watch after the registers. I’ll be helping Liz make the drinks, and as soon as Alex is back, she’ll help Phil. Got it?”

They all nodded. Alex walked out the back door, likely to go sit at the plastic table out back. In the pouring rain. Sometimes Phil admired Alex for her complete inability to give a shit.

Phil took up his place at the register, and plastered on a smile for the growing queue of customers waiting to order.

God, people were scary.

Taking orders was quite stressful, and he had to remember the correct abbreviations of the drinks and try to understand what the customer said their name was- Riley? It was probably spelled Reileigh or Rylie (he’d had both already) or some other monstrosity sent from hell.

It was during a lull in business that Phil took the opportunity to slump against the counter and stare at the door to the shop, desperately hoping for no one else to walk through so he wouldn’t have to get up.

Devon looked at him pityingly.

Phil glanced down at the counter, swaying slightly and studying the swirling design of the plastic countertop and the crumbs that had managed to stick there.

Lo and behold, someone else stepped into the shop, and Phil smiled automatically while stepping forward to take their order.

An hour later, his head throbbed from talking to so many people, and with a nod from Devon, Phil stepped out of view from the customers and perched himself on an old stool in the corner.

This was exhausting.

Tipping his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, Phil took a few deep breaths. Only a few hours until his break, and Devon was being kind enough to let him relax for a few minutes.

He was already so tired, but that didn’t mean he could slack off his job like this.

After a few minutes of sitting down, he’d surely be able to stand up again and go back to work without wanting to die.

...Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but Phil was a gay twenty-something and also happened to be exhausted to the point of collapsing. He figured he could cut himself some slack.

When the boy with curls damp from the rain and eyes the color of the coffee Phil was making stumbled into the shop like some great force of nature, Phil couldn’t help but glance up.

And he kept glancing, but then he somehow ended up taking longer looks that lasted only a few seconds and then only a few seconds turned to even more seconds until suddenly Phil realized he’d been outright staring at the man for at least a minute.

Behind him, Liz cleared her throat loudly.

“You can’t stare at the pretty boy while I do all the work, Lester,” she teased.

Phil nodded, taking his eyes off the stranger and finishing the iced tea he was making.

At that moment, Alex stepped back into the store, her short hair soaking wet and her clothes dripping water on the floor.

“I’m off my break,” she announced.

“You do know that someone will have to clean that up later, right?” Devon inquired dryly.

Alex said nothing and stepped behind the counter, putting her apron back on and gesturing drippingly to Phil to help her with the cash registers.

Devon sighed and stepped back to help Liz with the drinks.

It was at this moment that the boy (who was still slightly damp and who also seemed to be having some internal battle) stood up from his seat and made his way over to the counter.

Phil’s heart did a funny swoop thing and he was pretty sure he could hear the blood rushing through his ears.

Did he really fall apart this easily whenever an attractive person breathed in his direction? Honestly.

The stranger, who still hadn’t noticed Phil yet, surveyed the pastry cases and stepped closer to study the menu.

With a jolt, he seemed to realize that Phil was there, and proceeded to stare at him, a slight blush tinting his cheeks.

Phil was aware of the fact that his own face was likely bright red.

“Er, hello,” Phil began. “I’m Phil. What can I get for you today?”

It was a miracle he hadn’t embarrassed himself already.

“Oh, er, well- I, I actually haven’t decided yet? I mean, uh, yeah.” The stranger’s tongue seemed to trip over itself in an attempt to get the words out. “Sorry,” he added as an afterthought.

Phil felt his heart soften at the boy’s nervous stuttering.

“It’s fine. Take your time! It’s not like I’m going anywhere,” Phil managed, and then felt himself cringe as he realized that it probably sounded he was implying that the boy needed Phil to make an order, or something. God. Why was Phil always embarrassing himself like this?

The stranger cleared his throat, and Phil snapped back to the present.

“I- could I actually have, um, the er, the Caramel Mocha Latte? That’s good, right?” He paused, considering. “Could I also get an, er, a blueberry muffin?”

“What size?”

The man blinked. “Sorry?”

“What, er, size do you want your drink?”

“Oh, sorry. Um, medium, I reckon.”

Phil nodded, pulling a grande cup towards him. “Could I get a name?”

The stranger looked confused for a second, and then seemed to realize what Phil meant.

“Oh, right. Uh, Dan.”

His name was Dan.

Phil scribbled that on the cup, along with the abbreviation for the drink.

“That’ll be, er, £8 .50. Cash or card?”

Dan, who had seemed to be staring off into space, seemed to jolt himself back into the present. Phil could relate.

“Oh, yes, card, sorry,” Dan said, fumbling for his wallet and extracting a credit card.

Phil nodded and took it. Dan’s eyes were very pretty. So were his curls, and the light dusting of freckles across his nose- Phil shouldn’t be thinking about this.

Dan, as if oblivious to the effect he was having on Phil, seemed fascinated with the way Phil’s hands moved as they swiped the card.

If the twinge of pink lining his cheeks were anything to go by, Phil could guess that it was either very cold outside or Dan was still embarrassed about the loud entrance he had made a few minutes previously. There had to be a reason he was blushing like that, right?

Phil handed the card back to Dan, who now appeared to be staring at Phil’s mouth. Embarrassed, Phil wondered whether he had food stuck on his upper lip or if he had missed a spot shaving that morning.

Ducking his head and reaching into the pastry case, Phil pulled out Dan’s muffin. Tucking it into a paper bag, he set it on the countertop between them.

Clearing his throat, Phil waited for Dan’s gaze to snap back up to his own. God, his eyes were gorgeous.

“Er, your drink will be ready in a few minutes over there-” he gestured towards the end of the counter, “-and here’s your muffin! Enjoy your food,” Phil added, smiling at Dan.

Dan smiled back. He had a dimple. Phil immediately wanted to kiss it. He also wanted to bury his face in the crook of Dan’s neck and stay there for a while, but he had a job to do and also Dan was a complete stranger and- God, Phil was probably so creepy for thinking like this.

As if on cue, Dan took the muffin between them and gave Phil an awkward wave before walking back over to his table and sitting down.

Turning back to face his coworkers, Phil was immediately unsurprised to see all three of them gaping at him. Even Alex.

“That was literally the most awkward interaction I have ever seen.” Devon said, their hand over their face.

“Oh my God you guys, get a room,” Liz quipped, trying not to laugh.

Alex just stared, an expression of shame on her face. “God, Lester, what was that? Have you ever successfully flirted with anyone, I don’t know, ever?”

Phil rolled his eyes, his heart beating unfairly fast in his chest. “Can you guys just make the drink? I wasn’t even trying to flirt at all! I was just taking his order! He probably doesn’t even like guys, for fuck’s sake.”

Devon snickered. “You mean to tell me, the master of gaydar, that that man wasn’t ogling your ass when you turned around to get his damn muffin?”

Phil sighed. These people were relentless.

Alex grabbed his shoulders, looking like she was ready to shake him. “Phil, I swear, if you don’t have that guy’s number by the time he leaves this place, I am going to personally walk to his house and get it myself. You hear?”

Phil shrugged her off. “C’mon guys, seriously. Can you just make his drink?”

Liz raised an eyebrow. Devon smirked. They all backed off a little, although the looks they shot each other definitely meant they weren’t going to leave this alone.

A few minutes later, Dan’s drink was ready and Phil had taken orders from three more customers. Liz had called Dan’s name and he had come up to collect it--and Phil definitely didn’t miss the intense stares all of his coworkers had given Dan as he walked away.

“Nice ass,” Alex commented slyly, eyeing Phil to see his reaction.

Phil resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Again. Honestly, at some point his eyeballs were going to pop out of his head and onto the floor, just like his mum told him they would when he was a teenager.

Phil’s co-workers weren’t the only ones staring at Dan, though. Phil had to admit it was actually quite hard to keep his eyes off the man’s figure, hunched over the table and scribbling in what looked like a journal of some sort.

He was left-handed. Phil wasn’t sure why that was important to him, but it was.

Once or twice, he was sure that Dan was looking at him as well. It was hard to tell, though, and anyway, why would someone as pretty as Dan be looking at Phil?

When it was nearing the end of Phil’s shift and he was glancing anxiously at the clock every few seconds, Devon seemed to take notice of this and casually made their way over to Dan, who was still sitting at his little table.

Phil was too far away to properly hear what was going on, but when Devon first began to speak, Dan’s head jerked up, like he hadn’t expected anyone to take notice of him.

Dan only seemed to look further confused as Devon went on, but when they jerked their head back in the direction of the cash registers, Phil began to have an idea of what was going on. Dear God, he wished he didn’t.

Hiding his face in his hands, Phil wished dearly that Devon had only walked over to inquire about the quality of Dan’s drink, or the weather, or literally anything other than what Phil knew it was about.

Peeking through his fingers, Phil saw just in time Dan scribbling something on a napkin and offering it to Devon. Dan’s face was quite red.

When Devon turned around with a smile big enough to engulf their face, Phil groaned and stood up fully, hands gripping the countertop.

Dan, whose face was still beet-red, stared at the floor and tucked one ankle behind the other nervously. Phil turned his attention back to Devon, who slapped the napkin down on the counter proudly.

“You’re welcome, Lester. I just got you a pretty boy’s number, and you bet your ass you will call him, or I’ll do it for you! ”

Phil sighed. “Like how you got his number from him for me as well?”

Devon rolled their eyes. “C’mon, I’m doing you a favor. He was so cute about it too! I thought if his face got any redder, he’d explode!”

Devon looked at him expectantly.

Phil swiped the napkin off the counter and tucked into his pocket. “There. Happy?”

“Obviously.”

Phil was sitting in his flat.

The rain was still drizzling outside, and the sounds of it hitting the pavement echoed off the tall London buildings and created a peaceful, rumbling sound--like a cat purring loudly or the far-off sounds of a train on the railroad.

The sun was setting, and the darkening sky seemed to breathe with the city, creating that special sense of calm that only a rainstorm at night could produce.

All the curtains in his flat were open, as if trying to welcome the last streaks of washed-out daylight left in the world, and the room was getting darker and darker at such a pace that if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to watch it happening.

Phil, oblivious to the rest of the world, was clutching a brown, wrinkly Starbucks napkin with pen marks messily scratched onto its surface.

His handwriting was adorable. It had a slight left slant, and he had drawn a smiley face next to where he had scrawled his number for Phil.

His number. For Phil.

Phil wondered if he had even gotten out of bed that morning or if this was all a dream.

God, he hoped not.

It was around six in the evening, and Phil, in lieu of turning on Netflix and binging a series like he normally would, was sitting on his couch with his phone in his hand and debating whether to call the number on the napkin.

Oh God, what if it was fake? What if Dan had just given a pretend number to make Devon go away? Phil wouldn’t blame him. Oh God. This was so embarrassing. Phil didn’t even know what Devon had said to acquire the number, and to be completely honest, he didn’t want to know.

This was nerve-wracking.

Should he call or text? A call might look like he was trying too hard, but a text might look like he wasn’t trying enough- oh, he was insane. He definitely wasn’t going to call Dan. Did he have a deathwish? Phone calls were awful.

Before he could overthink it, Phil typed out a quick text.

Hey, Dan. It’s me, Phil, from Starbucks!

Okay, that was simple enough. Phil highly doubted Dan had met another person named Phil and had also given them his number on the same day, but it never hurt to make sure, right?

Phil sent it before his brain’s irrational panicking could get in the way, and tossed his phone down on the coffee table as if it were a bomb.

Staring at it, Phil waited for something, anything, to happen.

Nothing happened.

Phil was forced to acknowledge the fact that no, sending a text before he got the chance to over-think it was definitely not a guaranteed way to stop his anxiety from going into overdrive. If anything, it was worse.

Flopping back against the couch, Phil stared up at the ceiling. Maybe it was a fake number. Dan probably wasn’t going to reply, and Phil would never be able to face his coworkers after this embarrassment.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed with an incoming text, and Phil lunged for it.

hi phil! to what (or whom, i suppose) do i owe this pleasure? :)

Grinning to himself in the semi-darkness of his flat, Phil typed out a response to the boy with the coffee-colored eyes and a blush that happened to be the exact shade of the begonias growing in the dirt outside the building.

Maybe rain wasn’t quite so melancholy after all.

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