#found every potential frustration in this inexplicably endearing

[seacavepuzzle]

Toyomi Karita in Warning from Space (1956)

[jamespotterthefirst]

Where We Belong

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 1,200 Warning: One curse word Premise: Waking up to her boyfriend making breakfast for her? What did she do to deserve him? Author’s Note: A little domestic fluff piece

The mouthwatering aroma of breakfast greets her warmly as she enters the kitchen that morning. Even more enticing than the promise of food is the sight of her shirtless boyfriend, laboring over the stove with a grace that is only earned with years of cooking and being good at it. Lilac's eyes settle on his back muscles, flexing and straining as he works.

“Mmm,” she hums in approval, leaning against the door frame, arms crossed casually over her chest. The movement sends his over-sized shirt drooping off her shoulder.

Ethan doesn't hear her over the sizzling pan, focused as he is on making her breakfast. His frame moves studiously around his kitchen, adding ingredients and ensuring the quality of the food. When she can no longer resist the tug in her chest, moving her to him like the pull of magnets, she wraps her arms around him from behind, pressing a tender kiss between his shoulder blades.

“Good morning,” he greets with a pleasant little laugh, the rumble of his baritone voice a comfort.

“Very good indeed,” she sighs contentedly. She peeks over his arm at the delectable contents of the pan. “Omelets? You're spoiling me, Ramsey. How did I get so lucky?”

Ethan leans down to lower the temperature on the stove before he swivels in her arms to face her. His smile is easy and deliciously ruinous, making him look much younger. “I'm the lucky one,” he tells her, the statement as irrefutable as the existence of the sun.

Lilac is moved, almost rendered breathless. Outwardly, she merely wrinkles her nose at him. “Who would have thought you'd be the sappy one out of the two of us?”

Ethan laughs in repose, the sound filling the kitchen like the warmth of a summer day. His arms circle tighter around her as he backs her against the counter, the movement slow and promising. Wordlessly, he leans down to kiss the tip of her nose. “What can I say? You bring out the best in me.”

There is an air of pure bliss rolling off him in waves as he holds her and it makes her stomach flip. The sheer joy of his demeanor is palpable and Lilac is certain it is reflected in her own expression.

Playfully, she says, “Hmm, I changed my mind about you. This is not the old, grumpy, sarcastic doctor I fell for.”

Ethan laughs, a full hearty laugh that she hopes to inspire forever.

With that roguish, life-ruining smirk still displayed on his face, he leans down toward her lips. He hovers a breath away, teasing her in the most unfair of ways. “You love me, Rookie.”

Lilac had found the courage to inform him of that fact only two weeks after they decided to date. Even though their relationship was still technically a secret from everyone else, they enjoyed reminding each other every chance they got. They would exchange a quiet “I love you” every morning before walking into Edenbrook. They would say it in emoji filled texts (emoji filled on her part) or rushed phone calls during breaks. They would even interchange the three words with a single glance as they passed each other in a corridor with such conviction that it left her as breathless as if he had shouted it for all to hear.

Their lips only a hair's breadth away, she whispers back. “Lucky for you, I do.”

Ethan brushes his lips against hers in a full, tender sweep. “It is lucky,” he returns just as quietly, moving his lips over hers. “Given how madly I love you.”

His lips are fully on hers now, pouring the truth of the three words into every delicious stroke. Soon, it evolves into a dangerous, hungry type of kiss that renders them both breathless. Lilac takes command of his full bottom lip, tugging and grazing until he is groaning low in his throat. Ethan's hands, meanwhile, scorch a trail down the curves and dips of her sides, inviting her to hook a bare leg around his hip.

They resurface for air, Ethan pressing his forehead to hers, her body secure in his strong arms. His fingers play lazily with the hem of his own t-shirt, hanging loosely around her form.

“I take it this is no longer my shirt since you insist on wearing it so much.”

“If you want it back so badly, then take it off.”

More endearing laughter. “You're impossible,” he murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss on her exposed shoulder.

The pan behind him hisses insistently and with a sigh, he releases her. “You should go lay down,” he says as he resumes with the cooking. “Breakfast is almost ready. I can give it to you in bed.”

Lilac lifts a brow at the choice of words before breaking out into laughter. He joins her, not embarrassed in the slightest.

“You and your unintentional innuendos,” she says as she sobers up.

“Most of those were on purpose, you know,” he comments, his own laughter ebbing into an amused grin.

“I know,” she returns. “You're terrible at being discreet.”

Ethan rolls his eyes but the effect is ruined when he can't restrain a smile. “If you don't want to go back to bed then you can help me with the bacon.”

Lilac shakes her head. “That's a horrible idea,” she tells him. “Cooking bacon is the biggest challenge for me.”

He stops plating the omelets to give her an inquisitive look.

“I never know when it's ready,” she explains. “It looks under cooked for eternity and then before I know it, it's burnt. What?”

He looks at her, evidently struggling to stifle a laugh.

“You’re a doctor in a nationally ranked diagnostics team.”

“They don’t exactly cover cooking in medical school.”

Ethan is full on laughing by now. He looks unfairly entrancing doing so that she doesn't mind it's at her expense. He continues to tease her about her cooking shortcomings even as they sit down at the kitchen table to eat. Her poor attempts to glare at him only elicit more laughter.

They are soon interrupted by the ringing of his cellphone.

“June,” he explains when he glances at the screen. That catches Lilac by surprise.

“This better be important if you're bothering me on my one day off, Hirata,” he says as soon as he answers. “Of course they do… Fine… Yes, that works… She should be…” Ethan glances her way, which deepens her confusion.  “That makes the most sense, yes…” He hangs up the phone without so much as a goodbye. “The board wants us to consult with another potential patient in Beacon Hill,” he explains with a frustrated sigh and already getting to his feet. “Baz and June are already on their way to pick me up.”

Lilac’s eyes widen as she too rises from her seat. “Shit, Ethan. They can’t see me here. They’ll know.”

Ethan is unfazed, already clearing the table. “I know,” he tells her. “Although, you could argue they probably already know.”

“They almost certainly do but being found half-naked in your apartment is not exactly how I pictured us going public,” she says. “And I don’t mind Baz knowing but June…” she trails off meaningfully. Luckily, she doesn’t have to elaborate for Ethan to know for he nods.

He moves to the small entry table by the front door and retrieves his car keys from a small tray. The urgency in his movements sends an inexplicable thrill through her and she feels almost giddy.

“Once they get me, we’ll go get you. Which gives you–” he glances down at his watch, “–Twenty minutes to take my car and drive to your place. What? What’s so amusing?”

Lilac had given into laughter. “Nothing, just– The things we do to sleep together.”

Ethan smiles at that, moving closer to take her in his arms. Very tenderly, so tenderly she feels weightless, he presses a soft kiss to her forehead. “You’re worth it.”

____

Author’s Note: Am I the only one that constantly burns bacon?

Also, just wanted to say that I adore you all. I hope everyone is well. When the world feels like too much, I am always here to offer a listening ear.

____

Tags:  @openheart12​ | @ethandaddyramsey​ | @noboundariesplease​ | @silverlitskies​ | @infinitiestones | @flyawayboo​ | @paulfwesley​ | @hatescapsicum​ | @myusualnerdyself​ | @thatysn​ | @choicesyouplayandmore​ | @chasingrobbie​ | @trappedinfandoms​ | @togetherwearerapture​ | @nooruleman​ | @caseyvalentineramsey​ | @axwalker​ | @parkerattano​ | @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​ | @kaavyaethanramsey​ | @edith-eggs1​ | @choices-lurker​ | @jens-diamondchoices​ | @tefigranger​ | @ethanrcmsey​ | @coffeebeandragon​ | @senator-adrian-raines-wifey​ | @aestheticartwriting​ | @longneckramsey | @binny1985​ | @mvalentine​ | @sanchita012​ | @drethanramslay​ | @ramseysno1rookie​ | @takeharryandgo​​ | @aworldoffandoms​ | @desmaranj​ | @ josieplayschoices | @magicalshepherdtreeprofessor​ | @oofchoices | @ethxnrxmsey​ | @octobereighth​ | @colossalpainintheass​ | @kopenheart12​ | @lilyvalentine​ | @dulceghernandez |  @lion-ess24 | @emotionalswift2 | @the-soot-sprite |

[homerjacksons]

Sonny Carisi Week Day 4: "What is this between us?” Word Count: 1934 Pairing: Cargan Summary: Sonny and Trevor are supposed to be casual, but Trevor finds himself wanting more. AO3

It wasn’t like this between them, not really. They’d been sleeping together on and off, whenever they faced each other in court, for over a year, but that’s all it was. That’s all it had ever been. Which was why Trevor couldn’t quite understand the warmth blossoming behind his ribs at the sight of Sonny standing at his stove wearing a pair of Trevor’s sweat pants that were far too big for him, flipping pancakes like he did it all the time, like he belonged there.

Sonny turned suddenly, and Trevor felt caught out, as though he shouldn’t be looking, but he forced himself to maintain eye contact, to smile, to pretend he wasn’t just slightly panicking about Sonny looking soft and sweet and domestic in his kitchen.

“Morning,” he said, voice raspy with sleep, and God, Trevor hated how much that instantly made him want him.

“Morning,” he responded quietly, almost cooly, as he made his way over to Sonny.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Sonny said with a small shrug, looking shy in a way that made Trevor’s stomach flutter. “As a thanks and an apology combined, I guess.”

“What for?” He asked, leaning back against the counter, arms folded across his chest.

“For, uh—“ Sonny hesitated, ears turning red. “I know we don’t usually spend the night and I feel bad for passing out on you. Literally on you. I just—“

“It’s fine,” Trevor said with a small laugh, shaking his head. The truth was, he’d found it endearing beyond belief and that should have been his first clue he was in trouble. “I would have said something if it wasn’t.”

“Still…” Sonny shrugged, turning back to the pan, cursing under his breath as he turned the slightly charred pancake onto a plate.

“I set clothes and a towel out for you. That should be invitation enough.”

“It was,” Sonny said with a sheepish smile, nudging a plate of pancakes towards Trevor as he gathered everything he’d prepared to take to the table. “But I didn’t give you much of a choice.”

“Trust me,” Trevor said quietly, pressing a kiss to the corner of Sonny’s mouth as he took a plate of bacon and a bowl of sliced banana from his hands. “If you weren’t welcome here, you’d know about it.”

Sonny hummed quietly, offering a softer smile, and Trevor was so sure it was, once again, both a thanks and an apology and had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

Sonny shrugged as they sat down. “I wanted to. Cooking for people, it’s—“

“Your love language?” Trevor intercepted with a smirk, enjoying the way Sonny flushed instantly, right from the tips of his ears down to his bare chest.

“I’m Italian,” he muttered, focussing intently on cutting up his pancakes. “It’s how we communicate everything.”

“I thought that was hand gestures.”

Sonny shot him a look halfway between annoyed and amused, and Trevor laughed, deep and genuine and earnest in a way he wasn’t sure he had in years. It hit him, suddenly, that he’d been missing this his whole life and he hadn’t even known. That Sonny filled a gap he hadn’t noticed until it had begun to be filled in.

The realisation was followed by a kind of ache he couldn’t explain that made the laughter die on his tongue and his smile slip away as he watched Sonny eat.

“What?” Sonny asked with a frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Trevor said quickly, sliding his usual, easy smile back in place. It felt suddenly foreign and bitter and false on his lips, but he ignored the feeling and continued smiling, because what else could he do? “Just thinking how lucky you’ll make someone someday.”

Sonny laughed self-deprecatingly and ducked his head, and the ache in Trevor’s chest deepend.

This was supposed to be casual, a way to blow off steam after a long day, a way to release pent-up frustration with an attractive man made only more attractive by his incredible court presence. It was supposed to be meaningless, yet here Trevor was, realising he was falling in love and wondering desperately how he could ask for more.

—

Langan Grab a coffee with me?

Carisi I’ve got court in 10. What’s up?

Langan We can’t have coffee without an ulterior motive?

Carisi Course we can. But not today. Raincheck?

Langan You have my number.

Trevor groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes. He knew it wasn’t an outright rejection, but he couldn’t help but take it as one. He felt inexplicably stupid until his phone pinged again.

Carisi How about drinks tonight instead?

The grin that took over Trevor’s face almost hurt.

Langan Give me a time and a place and I’ll be there.

—

Trevor was early, unexpected nerves bubbling in his stomach. Realistically, he knew this was no different to any other time they had drinks. They’d drink enough to get buzzed but not get drunk, they’d take a cab back to Trevor’s place, they’d have incredible sex—some of the best he’s ever had—and then Sonny would leave with a sly, “til next time,” on his way out.

But it felt different this time. The nerves, the way that Sonny had been on his mind all week, the warmth in his chest every time he remembered Sonny in his kitchen making breakfast looking completely relaxed and at home, meant that everything had changed for him, even if the change was entire one-sided.

“Hey,” a familiar voice breathed out behind him, and when Trevor turned and met those tired blue eyes, caught sight of the lock of hair that had fallen loose from its gel already, Trevor wanted to kiss him then and there.

“Hey,” he said quietly, shoving his hands into his coat pockets to prevent himself from doing something reckless.

“You look different,” Sonny commented with a tilt of his head as he pushed the door open, holding it for Trevor to enter.

“How so?”

Sonny shrugged, leaning in to make sure Trevor would hear him over the noise inside, and Trevor felt a shiver run down his spine. “You look lighter somehow.”

Trevor gave him a look that plainly told him he thought he was ridiculous, but his heart was hammering against his ribs and he felt seen, exposed, torn open and laid bare for all to see. It made the back of his neck itch.

They drank, and they talked, and every time Trevor made Sonny laugh, that fluttering inside his ribs intensified, as though something was trying to break free from inside of him. Sonny reached for him in the cab, fingers twisting in his hair uncertainly before he kissed him, and that was new, but everything else was routine right up until the moment Sonny, still breathless, moved to slide off the bed.

Trevor grabbed him by the wrist before he could stop himself, heart hammering against his ribs harder than it had been even just a moment ago.

“Stay,” he uttered, voice barely above a whisper, yet the way it rang around the room, bouncing around the silence between them, suggested he’d shouted it at the top of his lungs with all the urgency he felt.

Sonny seemed to hesitate for hours, Trevor’s chest constricting further with every moment that passed, before he finally nodded, face relaxing, expression softening as he slid back alongside Trevor, hand resting across his chest.

“Can’t make you pancakes in the morning, though,” Sonny teased, playing with the hairs on Trevor’s chest as he curled around him.

Trevor laughed as he wound his arm around Sonny, tucking him firmly into his side as he pressed a kiss into his hair. “That’s not why I asked.”

“Good, ‘cause otherwise I might think you’re just using me.”

Trevor laughed again in that deep, genuine, earnest way that only Sonny seemed to be able to elicit, and that familiar warmth spread through him again, even though he knew when morning came, the illusion would be shattered.

Only it wasn’t. Sonny disappeared just as the sun was rising, leaving a kiss on Trevor’s forehead and a lingering warmth that felt like a promise of more in his wake.

He texted Trevor first, this time, about nothing in particular, and he came by the office later in the week with coffee and bagels. And it became a thing for them to talk and see each other regularly, casually, without court and without sex, just as friends, as something potentially more. It felt so easy, so natural, so right, that Trevor was wary of examining it too hard. He was scared that if he looked too closely, everything they’d built between them would shatter and he’d be left with the stark reality of a friends with benefits situation and nothing more.

—

Langan Le Bernardin, 7:30pm Friday night.

Carisi You didn’t.

Langan I did. I can cancel if you don’t wanna go.

Carisi I can’t afford that.

Langan My shout.

Carisi Trevor…

Langan A dirty client just paid us a lot of money. Let me treat you to make myself feel better.

Carisi 🙄 I’m sure you feel real bad about taking money from scumbags.

Langan Okay fine, I’ll cancel.

Carisi No! I’ll be there, jeez.

Trevor almost, almost sent a kiss emoji before he came to his senses and locked his phone with a sigh, hands trembling slightly.

He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face all day.

—

Sonny laughed, breathless and light as they exited the restaurant, and the sound buoyed Trevor, made him feel bold enough to link his fingers with Sonny as their hands brushed, and for a moment, he felt light as a feather and completely indestructible.

Then Sonny pulled his hand away, shoving both hands in his pockets, and Trevor was sure he felt his heart crack open, his breath catching in his throat.

“Trevor—“

“It’s fine,” he lied, and badly if the look on Sonny’s face was anything to go by. “Forget it. I’ll get you a cab.”

“No, Trevor, I just—“

“It’s fine.”

“I wanna know what this is between us,” Sonny said firmly, stopping Trevor from walking away by placing both hands on his arms. “I wanna know what this actually is before I go holding your hand on the street because...because if this doesn’t actually mean anything, then I can’t—“

“This means everything,” he blurted out, wincing at the tremble in his own voice. “These past few months with you have been everything I didn’t know I wanted.”

Sonny smiled, hesitantly, letting his hands slip down to Trevor’s. “Good,” he whispered, giving Trevor’s hands a squeeze before linking their fingers again. “Me too.”

“You doubted—“

“Of course I doubted,” Sonny said through a laugh, tugging on Trevor’s arm as he started walking. “You were the one who said this was just casual sex.”

“I was an idiot.”

Sonny hummed in agreement, bumping their shoulders together as they walked. “When did you work that out?”

“The morning I woke up to you making pancakes in my kitchen wearing my clothes and smelling like my shampoo.” He ducked his head at the admission, feeling suddenly far too vulnerable, a far cry from the man Sonny saw in the courtroom, the man he’d initially been attracted to.

“Hey,” Sonny whispered, stopping to pull Trevor aside. He reached up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, hand resting on his cheek. “I’m glad.”

Trevor huffed, smile stretching his face as that warmth blossomed behind his ribs again, stronger than ever before. “Me too.”

[l8rhader]

It was Tuesday which meant it was Losers Family Game Night.  Except, as far as most of the Losers knew, Eddie Kaspbrak had a study group that he just couldn’t get out of.

In truth, he had needed a minute.  And a drink.  And a quiet walk around the city.  All that had done for him was solidified his realization.  He needed to get his shit together.  For over a decade, he’d pined.  He’d watched as Richie went on a never-ending string of increasingly frustrating bad dates.  He listened as he bitched about each of them after they’d all, inexplicably, failed to realize how wonderful he was.  At 22, in his senior year of college and living with his six best friends in a rented house just off campus, he was really, truly living, and- He’d had enough waiting.  He wanted Richie.  

He headed back to the house and snuck in the backdoor, heading up the kitchen stairs to sit, cross-legged on Richie’s bed, and just waited, picking at a tiny hole at the bottom hem of his faded old T-Shirt with the demon car.  He didn’t want to deal with Game Night or anyone else until he saw Richie.  

Downstairs, the rest of the Losers Club were chatting happily and setting up the board for a friendly and Not-At-All-Competitive-Beverly-Remember-What-Happened-Last-Time game of Monopoly.  Richie stood up from the ottoman and moved for the stairs.  “Hang on, guys, don’t start without me.  I just want to change into sweats,” he said, adding “Stan, pull the-”

“Shoe,” he predicted, plucking it out of the box from under Beverly’s fingers as she huffed, reaching from the couch behind him, nearly knocking the wind out of Ben with an accidental kick to the gut, securing the Top Hat for herself before Stan could swipe it.  His call doubled as an encouragement to getting him out and back.  “Got it,” Richie shot him a thumbs-up behind his back.  “Hurry, it’s already 6,” he called, knowing that, at this rate, they were going to be up until way later than he’d like.  He had work in the morning, even if no one else had class until noon.

Richie was already upstairs and opening the door to his room, though.  He already had the top of his jeans unbuttoned, heading to his dresser for something more comfortable.  He let them drop, stepping out of them in just his boxers.  

Momentarily stunned by the situation he found himself in, Eddie found his voice quick enough.  “Hey Richie,” he said quietly.  “Can we talk?”

Jumping backward and knocking his dresser drawer shut on his finger, though managing to come up with the pants he’d come in search of, Richie yelped.  “Ow! Fuck,” he hissed, popping the injured digit into his mouth instinctively.  “Eds, what-”  He stopped, looked down at himself, and immediately felt his face flush hot.  “What’s up?” he asked, covering himself up with the hastily retrieved garment before realizing he could indeed put them on.

“I need to say something to you and I need to say it all before you interrupt me so can you be uncharacteristically quiet for like 5 minutes before you say anything that’s going to make me potentially jump out of your bedroom window in embarrassment,” Eddie said, taking a sharp intake of breath before adding a quiet, “please?”

Brows furrowed behind his glasses, Richie moved to his bed and sat beside Eddie.  “Of course,” he said, fighting off the instinct to point out that anything that was going to take Eddie five minutes to say would take 30 from anyone else- maybe 15 from him, but what’s 10 minutes between friends, right?  “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong,” he said quietly, picking at his cuticle before dropping his hands into his lap.  He looked over at Richie, who was looking at him so softly that he could hardly stand it and stood up.  “Can you not look at me while I say any of this?  I can’t deal with your face and those big fucking eyes staring at me while I try to put my thoughts together because if I do, Richie, I swear I’m never going to get through this,” he said as he started to pace.  

Richie stared up at him incredulously for a moment, wondering just what in the hell he’d gotten himself into, before shaking it off.  “Sure.  Whatever you need,” he said, plucking the plush beaver Eddie had won him at the carnival one year.  At the time, he may have buried it under a dirty joke or ten, - and by may have, he absolutely did, but it made Eddie laugh that big, open laugh that always twisted a knot in Richie’s gut he couldn’t place at the time but he definitely had figured out by now, so it wasn’t for nothing- but it was, and remained to the day, one of his most prized possessions.

It appeared, though, that Eddie didn’t need Richie’s agreement for any of this.  “I mean, how couple I possibly focus when you’re there and you look like that and you’re my best fucking friend and you just get whatever it is that I’m trying to say without me having to try which is impressive considering that I try really fucking hard all the time and you’re always there!  And you always play along!  And you’re-” he looked back at Richie and clenched and unclenched his fists quickly.  “I just don’t get it and of course you’re going to say no because, I mean, you’re you and why would you even want to so it doesn’t-”

“Eds, I don’t mean to interrupt this conversation you’re having with yourself when you did ask for five minutes but,” he said, standing up and placing the stuffed animal back on his bed with a lightly confused expression, “you haven’t actually said-”

“AND THEN, here you are, six-fucking-two and cheekbones and shoulders and hands and-” he spluttered, struggling, “and-and-and I can’t even focus on anything at all because you’re this fucking hot AND you’re quite possibly the funniest person I’ve ever met, despite all of the fighting and calling me names that are absolutely mortifying but I don’t hate as much as I say I do because I know that it’s endearment from you,” he said, taking the hand that he hadn’t even noticed Richie had reached out to him.  He rolled it thoughtfully in his own hand and smiled.  “But, then, you have to be such a fucking idiot, like there’s not a brain under that perfect mop of curls you call hair, and go on all of these stupid dates with these stupid assholes who don’t see how sweet and smart and brave and funny and gorgeous you are and I have to wonder why the fuck it’s always them and not me when I’m right fucking here.  And every time one of these shitbrained lowlifes breaks your heart, I end up here in this exact spot, surrounded by your dirty laundry, wondering what in the hell happened to make you ignore what was right in front of your face the whole damn time; trying to figure out why it’s them and not me because I swear if I had you, I’d never let you go.”  Eddie took another breath that might have been a little huffier than he’d intended, but he was mad.  He was madly in love with Richie.  So sue him if he thought that it was stupid that, after over ten years, he was going to have to admit it before he, maybe literally, exploded.

Even though he was hearing every word and, practiced as he was in the art of Eddie-fication, Richie was having trouble following.  “I need something a little more linear here, Eds.  Give me something to go on.”

Give him something to go on, he did.  Eddie launched himself onto his tiptoes, arms draped over Richie’s shoulders as he kissed him.  If Richie had had any warning at all, he might have been quicker on the uptake.  He settled into the kiss quick enough, pulling Eddie up into his arms eagerly.  It still wasn’t close enough for Eddie.  He wound one hand into Richie’s hair, adjusting his neck for a better angle.

“God, why are you so fucking tall?” he panted when he finally came up for air.  “One of us is gonna end up needing a chiropractor if we keep this up,” he added.

Letting his hands wander lower, he gripped the back of Eddie’s thighs and hoisted him up so they were a little closer to even and kissed him again.  “Better?” he asked, despite feeling pretty confident that it was.  

Richie smiled at him.  That was sort of what he thought.  “You drive me insane, too,” he said, moving his strong hands to Eddie’s biceps and pulling him in closer.  “And I love you, too.”  

Eddie looked up at him, quietly stunned.  He thought back over everything he’d said but he was pretty sure that he’d left that bit out.  “You-”

“That was the general takeaway of your rant, right?  Because, honestly, Eds, it was a little all over the place but there was a good bit of mentioning different physical attributes, some jealousy and frustration with my past dating experiences, some mentioning of things other than my body, but,” he drew his lips into a straight line and shrugged, “to be fair, I’m sure you had a speech but I came in here and dropped trough and shot that all to shit,” he laughed, getting a slight blush from Eddie, “followed by a good deal of insulting which is Spaghetti-Speak for I love you.”  

Richie leaned forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Eddie’s waist.  “Is it?” Eddie asked, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t had much of a plan past this part.  

Nodding, Richie leaned back a little.  “I’ve wanted to be your boyfriend for a long time,” he admitted.  Beneath his hands, he could practically feel Eddie vibrating with excitement.  “That is, if you want me, too?”

A bright smile crept along Eddie’s face, initiating those dimples Richie liked so much he could fucking scream.  “Of course, I want you,” he said, letting his hands rest wrapped tightly in the buttons of his shirt.  “I want you more than anything else I can think of.”  

“Good.  Because you’re stuck with me, my man,” he said, swaying them both back and forth happily, a slow dance.  Then, realizing what he’d said and the implications of it, he simply smiled.  “My man.”  Eddie leaned up on his tiptoes and kissed him once more, pulling him in by his shirt before hooking his arms around his neck.  From the living room, there was a chorus of shouts for Richie to hurry the fuck up.  “Are you gonna come down with us?  Because I don’t want to stop this, but-”

Eddie released a heavy sigh.  “Go,” he groaned, shoving him out the door and toward the steps.  It was stupid, he realized, waiting this long.  Grinning broadly as he watched Richie pad down the stepsHe ducked toward the front door and opened it, pulling Richie toward him as he closed it, giving them the option of making it seem like Eddie had just gotten home.  Still, his hand in Richie’s felt right.  The way Richie had instinctively moved his hand to Eddie’s hip might have made his heart skip a beat as he hovered closer, obscured from the Losers by the wall with their coat rack on it.  

Leaning in, Richie captured Eddie’s lips with his own, pressing himself flush against him.  It was exhilarating.  He had never in a million years thought that it would happen like this, if it happened at all.  He thought there would be some long, pitiful conversation.  Some dramatic scene.  He’d expected tears and panic- maybe even some puke, on his end.  

But this?

Kissing Eddie was easy.  Having Eddie as a boyfriend- being Eddie’s boyfriend- that was going to be even easier.  Effortless.  Inevitable.  He could feel it.  He could tell.  

Still, he had to stop.  He had to pull back for a moment before he lost his head entirely and they got caught.  “Do you really want to do this?” he asked, thumb grazing lightly over Eddie’s cheek.

Eddie leaned into his hand and looked up at him, a hint of mischief in those deep, brown eyes.  He entwined his freehand in Richie’s hair, kissing him with an even more determined fire than he had the first time.  Richie hummed in surprise against his mouth, then melted against him dramatically, like the snowman turning into the little boy in that soup commercial.  He tilted Eddie’s face up and and leaned into him, feeling their hearts running a race.  For once, Richie thought, just a part of him might be faster than Eddie.  

When he finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, Eddie nodded.  “I really, really do.”  

“See you in there, then,” he said, kissing him lightly one last time for the moment, smiling briefly against his lips.

Hearing Stan call out to him again, Richie turned and practically bounced back into the living room Eyes wide, Eddie whispered a harsh, “Wait.  I didn’t mean to tell them.  I just meant yes to you!” Richie settled in against the pile of throw pillows on the far side of the room, and busied himself collecting his money from Stan and bitching at Mike for stealing his seat.  “Richie? Richie!” Eddie continued to hiss, digging his fists into his hair.  “Fuck.”

He peeked around the corner and took in the set-up.  Bev and Ben were still on the couch but she was sitting up, poised for battle.  Stan was on the floor with his back against the couch, knees against the coffee table, bank assembled in the lid and safely under the table where Beverly couldn’t reach without alerting him.  Bill’s chair was still vacant, because he was still in the kitchen making drinks.  Mike sat cross legged on the ottoman with Richie nested in the pillows beside him.  His heart skipped another beat- it really needed to stop doing that- as he realized that that caught-the-canary look Richie had was because of him.  He looked so happy.  And fuck- he was, too.

“Was that the food?” Mike asked.  

“No,” Richie answered, then paused.  “Well, I mean.  It’s something I plan on eating later,” he added quickly, raising his eyebrows as Eddie ducked out of sight.  He laughed a little, knowing he was gonna hear it for that later.  

From the entryway, there was the sound of a definite thunk of head against wall.  “What was that?” asked, moving to get up, spooked.

“Probably the pasta coming to a boil,” Richie offered, situating his loudly colored money beside him.  Beverly looked at him curiously.

Still missing the point, “What?  What pasta?” Mike asked, looking over at the rest of the group as Bill came in from the kitchen with their drinks.  “Didn’t we order pizza?  I don’t-”

Once he’d freed his hands, handing Richie and Mike their beers, popping the open wine bottle down in front of Ben and Bev passing Stan his 7 and 7, Bill asked, “Richie, did you hit your head?  How many f-fingers?” offering two individual fingers for him to focus on as he plopped down into his chair, taking a swig of his own beer.

“Three if I play my cards right,” Richie winked.  Off to his left, Stan squinted at him.  Not that it was any different from his normal schtick, per se, but there was something different about Richie.  Bev picked up on it, too, swatting Stan on the shoulder and fixing him with a deliberate stare.

“Oh my God!” Eddie groaned, spinning in a circle.  He buried his face in his hands.  That wasn’t what he meant.  He hadn’t-

“Eddie?” Ben asked, craning his neck to get a better angle to try to see into the entryway.  “I thought he had that study group he couldn’t get out of tonight.” 

Perking up, Bev leaned across the arm of the sofa, shouting, “Eds!  If that’s you, get your ass in here!” 

Eddie let one deep breath fill his lungs as he dropped his head back, closing his eyes.  He was going to have to kill his boyfriend.  Even with attack mode activated, he still smiled at the thought.  The word boyfriend meant Richie which made him go warm all over.  He shook it off and peeked back around the corner.  “Hey, guys,” he said, sheepishly.

Bill turned around, more than a little shocked to find the seventh Loser home.  “What g-gives?”

“You said you wouldn’t be home until super late tonight?” Bev asked, gesturing for him to come sit with her and Ben.

There was a chorus of agreement as he fully entered the room, arms folded protectively around his waist. He looked down at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact that would clearly give him away, until “Yeah, Spaghetti.  What gives?” Richie said with a crooked smile, cocking his head to one side as he leaned back on his elbows.

“Fuck you, dude.  I take it all back.  Every fucking word,” Eddie growled, crossing to Richie and swiping one of the pillows out from under him to smack him in the gut with it.  “You’re such a dipshit, you know that right?  I meant yes to you not yes to whatever the fuck you took me saying yes to mean.”  Richie opened his mouth, meaning to point out that the rest of the Losers were still in the room.  Instead, all he could do was gape at his boyfriend.  “Oh, fucking forgive me if I wanted to take a minute to enjoy the fact that I finally got over my shit, marched back here, and made a fucking move!  Maybe I wanted to keep it between us for, oh, I don’t know ten minutes before you broadcast to all of our friends that I just asked you out.”

Richie blinked a couple of times, stunned.  He held his hand up, preparing to count off on his fingers.  “So, to recap, you came home completely unannounced-”

“I live here, asshole!  Do I have to tell you all-”

Flexing his outstretched hand, Richie added his index finger to the list, “Started fucking yelling at me about my face, my dating habits, my laundry habits, and my mouth,” added a third, smiling as he glanced past Eddie at the shocked faces of their friends, “kissed me, started yelling at me again for being too fucking tall but if I’m not mistaken,” he said, letting his hand spring back to his chest with a loud thud, “I am the one who made the startling confession and did the boyfriend asking and then returned to the game night that you were invited to in the house that we share with our friends without so much as a fucking word past reiterating that you really did want to be with me,” he listed, counting them off on the three fingers he’d joked about just moments earlier.  He reached up, and took Eddie’s hand.  “You, light of my life and pain in my ass, are the one who came in here guns blazing and broadcasting it for all of these Losers.  I was simply being casual!”

Eddie squeaked out a laugh.  “As if!  You came in with all of the jokes and the fucking commentary!  What the hell did you think they were going to think”  Something I plan to eat later?  What the fuck, Richie?  I swear-”

“Because you’re so cute, cute, cute, I could just eat you up, Spaghetti,” Richie said, tugging at his boyfriend’s hand, chewing at his lower lip.

Stan sighed, pulling the box out from under the table and starting to count out Eddie’s starting pile.  “He’s always talked about you like that,” he said flatly.

“Yeah, as s-soon as you came in we would have just let it g-go as him being a dickhead,” Bill laughed, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and pulling out a fifty, taking the one Mike was flagging toward the table and tossing them both at Ben.  Bev and Stan both dug through their Monopoly money and tried to pawn that off as fair, receiving nothing but a disapproving tut from Ben, now $200 richer- in real currency, even.

Settling back into his spot, Stan glanced over at his friends, thoroughly happy for them.  “So, if you two are done, we were just starting on Monopoly and I had the car set aside just in case,” he offered, sticking the pawn on the stack of brightly colored bills and handing them up to Eddie who just stared blankly at him.  “I open tomorrow.  In or out?”

Richie swiped the pieces and laughed.  “C’mere,” he said said, a little roughly, tugging Eddie down to sit between his legs.  Snuggling back against his boyfriend, he smiled, rocking back and forth a bit. 

All it took was one subtle moment- Richie pressed his lips to Eddie’s neck gently, whispering in his ear and Eddie shut his eyes smiling happily. Mike cooed some nonsense about it being ‘about damn time,” and Eddie blushed, admitting that, yeah, it was.  That’s all it took for Stan to lock eyes with Eddie, claiming that now he was vulnerable.  The peace was broken with unrelenting trash talk as Eddie took first roll.

“Is it a g-good idea to play Monopoly, of all things, the day they actually g-get together?” Bill asked Ben quietly as he walked back to the kitchen to grab the second round.  As oldest, he always went last for every game, making him the barmaid, most nights.

“It’s not like they’ve never played together before,” Ben answered, watching the new couple with a gentle smile as his own girlfriend batted his hand away for distracting her.  “Besides, Richie’s pretty calm with Monopoly.”

“It’s not Richie I’m worried about,” Bill said as Richie cursed.  Eddie had given an evil laugh, teasing that Ben had always been on his side and, in throwing his head back, nearly concussed him.  “Although, maybe I should be,” he laughed, shaking his head, passively wondering if, maybe, he could see the future or something because hadn’t he just asked-