Richie Tozier’s fingers traced the outline of Eddie Kasprak’s face, a small smile resting on his chapped lips as the sleeping boy’s nose wrinkled. Richie felt content, laying next to the boy he was completely and utterly in love with, after a whirlwind of a night, smushed against the smaller boy in a pile of blankets on the floor of his bedroom. The small metal boxes scattered across the room filled with the lumps of wax from burnt out candles were an epic reminder of the night before, if Eddie’s almost naked sleeping form next to him wasn’t enough to jog his memory. He let out a laugh under his breath as Eddie snuggled into his chest, blocking his bony fingers from his face.
“Mornin’, sleepyhead” Richie mumbled against the Kaspbrak boy’s hair, pressing kisses against the crown of his head, the younger boy smiling into his bare chest, humming against the smooth and pale skin.
“Morning, Rich” Eddie muttered, pulling his head from the curly haired boy’s chest to look him in the eyes, pressing a kiss to the dimple on his cheek. Richie’s arms wrapping around Eddie’s waist, pulling him closer, feeling content.
Eddie’s heart fluttered as his body mushed against his boyfriends, his eyelashes grazing against Richie’s collarbone as he let out a soft hum of appreciation.
“I love you” Richie uttered quietly, his lips pressing to the shell of Eddie’s ear. Eddie ignored his normal rule (no kissing before they’d cleaned their teeth) and pressed his lips to Richie’s softly, the latter smiling into the kiss as he responded lazily. The two boys were in a world of their own, content and in love, so much so that they didn’t notice Beverly Marsh in the doorway, not even surprised by the display before her, she knew everything. They didn’t have to tell her anything for her to see the love between the two. Ben Hanscom stood in the hall, waiting for Bev to drag Richie to the Barrens with the other Losers, but Beverly simply closed the door again quietly, a smile gracing her face.
“Not today, Ben, we can go without them” She uttered, walking towards the shorter boy, interlocking their fingers. Ben Hanscom didn’t need to ask who the other person in the plural was, he was a poet, and he was observant. So much so that he noticed everything before his girlfriend.
“Let’s go then, January Embers” he nodded, brushing past Richie’s sleeping mother in her armchair.
Upstairs, the two boys had pulled apart, foreheads resting together and noses crushed against each other, eyes closed. Eddie’s eyes opened first, studying his boyfriend’s face with a soft smile, pressing a kiss to his nose, spreading them over his freckles.
“Stop that!” Richie whined as he tried to trap Eddie in his embrace to stop the oh-so-pleasant assault on his face.
“Never” Eddie muttered, pressing his lips against Richie’s cheek in a sloppy kiss, whispering those three words against the supple skin.
They were content.