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One far too public coming out. One entire re-branding of his career. Four seasons. Hundreds of positive reviews. Three nominations.
One win would have been nice.
Richie didn't put all that much stock in all these fancy award shows, but just saying. One win would have been nice. Mostly because he had been planning to put it next to his Razzie on the mantelpiece.
(Yes, his Razzie was still proudly displayed on the mantelpiece despite all of Eddie's attempts to get rid of it. It kept finding its way back there.)
"Oh, just to be nominated is an honor."
Bullshit.
If Richie wasn't getting a stupid gold statue out of it, then there was no point in wriggling into a stupid tux to put on airs with all the other stupid actors with only the world's driest open bar to ease the pain.
Then again, Richie would have suffered it all ten times over if Eddie had still been enamored with the lifestyle and was dying to go.
As it was, the mystique wore off before they had even finished walking the Red Carpet when the second season of Bill had landed Richie Tozier his first Emmy nomination about two and half years ago. All the noise and the flash of cameras had overstiumulated Eddie, and he nearly crushed Richie's hand several times as they posed over and over.
All of those pictures were objectily terrible. Richie still loved them, but even he can admit it's embarraassing how he looked like a stick figure come to life and how Eddie's scrowling so hard.
As if he's trying to kill every single photographer with his mind.
(So naturally the only framed one Richie had was in his office where only he would see it.)
By the time they had been seated at their table, Eddie was gruming about how he was 'never doing this ever again, so you better fuckin' win Rich' before downing two gin and waters (the fucking freak) in a row.
The next year, Richie took Maggie as his date, and she had a great time.
Bev designed a custom gown for her, and even Richie cried like a baby when he saw her in it. She looked like royalty, and she glided down the Red Carpet like one. She made friends with every single celebrity that Richie suddenly was very concerned he'd be seeing Hannukah cards from Zach Braff on his parents's fridge come winter.
It had been a fantastic idea, that Richie had to credit Bill for. Apparently, back when he and Audra were keeping their relationship a secret, he took his mother to any adapation related appearences where it was expected he'd have a date, and he told Richie as he had been freaking out about how showing up alone would look to internet trolls. Taking Maggie?
Man, if any haters had been claiming the whole coming out was a P.R. stunt still? Then bringing his mom as a date to an awards show should shut them right up. That was the oldest move in the gay actor book.
How had he not thought about that himself?
When Richie found out he was nominated again this year (which really was a formality at this point. Everyone knew he would be receiving a nomination) he called Maggie to see if she'd like to accompany him again.
"Oh, sweetheart, I would love to. But your father and I will be on our cruise that week," she toldhim, sounding genuinely distraught. That made the blow easier to take, even if Richie shuddered at the thought that his parents had become the type of boomers going on cruises. Before he could tell some wildly inappropriate cruise joke, Maggie asked, "Is Eddie working again this year?"
That had been the excuse Richie had told her the previous year because she wouldn't have quite understood. She and Went had endured every awful holiday party and every retirement ceremony at each other's jobs because that'show they were a couple. It worked for them, but Richie knew that expecting Eddie to do something he didn't like and Eddie dutifully going through with it despite being uncomfortable was never going to make either of them happy.
Maggie only wanted what was best for her son, and the best was her perfect marriage in her eyes, so no. Richie couldn't fault her.
Then again, she also wanted the best for Eddie now that she remembered who he was. Basically her surrogate son. A second chance for her to raise someone who wasn't a little shit (no luck there, unfortunately). So she wouldn't be mad. She'd be worried there was trouble in paradise, though, where they were both concerned.
Best to let her enjoy her own paradise with Went.
(Richie was definitely going to make fun of them going on a cruise when they got back, however. Like, that was a given.)
So Richie called the only other woman in his life that hecould appropriately ask to be his plus one.
(Because it might be a little inappropriate to ask his therapist to go with him.)
(And because it had to be a woman. Now that he was out, if he took another man other than Eddie, the rags would be running stories about him cheating on his boyfriend before they had announced the first award.)
"You better let me design you a suit," Bev said, before even answering his question. "I love you, and I don't mind your more... laid back approach to fashion if we're getting lunch, but if we're walking the Red Carpet? The sorry excuse for a tux you rented last year was awful. It took away from how beautiful Maggie looked."
"Aw, come on Bev. I doubt that. Wait, so that'sa yes then, right?"
"Only because I know you'll mope if you have to fly solo. How is Eddie, by the way?"
"Good." Richie smiled to himself, because he knew that in part that was thanks to him. He made Eddie feel good! He made Eddie's life better by being in it! "Proud, but already breaking out in hives even though he knows I won't force him to go."
"Christ, Richie, I already agreed to go!" Bev teased, and the two of them disolved into giggles as if they were 13 years old again.
Eventually they composed themselves and discussed what Bev wanted to design for him. Richie wasn't going to let the fact that Bev told him she already had his measurements freak him out. He figured that fashion designers did that kind of thing. You know, memorize their friends's measurements.
There were a million questions about color and cut and texture. Richie had become overwhelmed. Even at his most popular, he had never been forced to endure a personal fitting. Steve had no problem letting him walk into his trusted rental shop and walk out with something clean enough hours before whatever stupid event they had to attend. In fact, he had told Richie on several occasions that a rumpled tux was good for his image.
Despite this disruption in his routine, Richie still almost went to that rental shop to get a tux a month out from the Emmy's. (Because he was a real adult now, thank you very much, and he atleast wasn't going to leave that to the last minute.) Eddie had to remind him that it wasn't necessary.
And despite that, it didn't register that Richie was going to be wearing a Marsh original until Bev Marsh herself, along with her assistant, came barging into his Chicago condo one day.
And without a peep from their doorman Antonio! Richie had thought that Antonio was cool!
"What the hell is going on?" Richie managed to ask despite having stuffed a handful of pretzels into his mouth before being disturbed.
"We have to makesure everything fits perfectly and lays perfectly and... you know." Bev shrugged. "Looks good."
"The Emmy's aren't for a whole week!" Richie protested.
He thought he had five moredays before he started to panic at the looming prospect of being perceived on such a grand scale. Now he was seconds away from hypervenilating because he was freakingout about a whole week of potential freakingout, but he was grounded (for the moment) when Bev spoke.
"Well, I'm going to need time to make any adjustments if it doesn't fit.. or of it looks hideous, of course."
"Pffft. As if you can make anything hideous," Richie assured her. Not to get out of the fitting but because he really believed it. However... "If you'll excuse me for a moment first, though."
Richie ran to the bathroomand made sure he wasn't about to ruin all of Bev'shard work with an upset stomach.
Thankfully, nothing came up, so he downed a good, full shot of Pepto and returned to the living room. Bev's assistant was standing in front of a, like, fucking portable closet where there was a grey suit hanging. They were waving some Sailor Moon wand around it, and he realized that it was releasing steam, so he supposed even magical people like Bev attracted wrinkles when transporting clothes.
Bev was unpacking some supplie while talking to Eddie and...
Eddie?!
Richie hadn't realized that it was around the time Eddie came home. He must have came in super quietly while Richie had been in the bathroom.
And now Richie was panicking again. He loved Eddie. He appreicated his opinion. He just knew that he could not have handled it in that moment. If Eddie took one look at him, and his face made that critical eye crunch thing he did, then Richie was going to be sick all over this amazing suit that Bev had made for him.
Because the suit was amazing. It was a medium grey, and the coat had a very unique cut. Like, the lapels and shit. (Richie only had a limited vocabulary when it came to clothes, okay?) The pants were pefectly pleated, and Richie knew that they were going to fit him like a glove. They would at least look good on him, but he was worried that he was not going to be able to pull off the tophalf. He loved his quirky sense of style, but he wasn't about to kid himself. He wasn't doing anything new, so how was he supposed to work such an individual look?
The conversation must have continued on while he was spiraling. It wasn't until Bev gently took his arm and led him toward the suit that Richie snapped out of it once again.
"Do we really have to do this right now?" he asked, petulant like a little child.
"Well, I will be here in Chicago until it's time for us to head to the ceremony," Bev began, but Eddie held up a hand.
"Hey, Bev, don't even entertain his shit," he said before whirling around and pointing a finger in Richie's face. "Rich, she came all the way here to make sure the suit she made just for you fits. Try the damn suit on."
"God, you fuckin' little gremlin," Richie mumbled.
But then Eddie gave him a quick kiss, because that was how their relationship operated, and Richie was successfully reassured.
"Love you, too, babe," Richie said, to fuck with him a little bit, and then clapped his hands together. "Okay. Let's do this. I promise to not destroy your eyes."
"None of that," Bev said. "You're going to look great. Really, this is to make sure there's no loose threads more than anything."
Richie said a quiet thanks, and Bev gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. Then she, Eddie, and her assistant gave Richie some privacy so he could change. It took him far longer than it should have to get dressed because he was trying to be as careful as he could with the suit. He didn't want to have to make Bev's assistant get the Sailor Moon wand back out or to make Bev sew up a tear he made by stuffing his gut into everything.
Once he was finally ready he reveled in shouting for everyone instead of going to get them. Eddie came stalking into the living room, mouth open and ready to rant about inside voices, but he froze to the spot.
Bev flitted past him, immediately looking at every little detail and making notes to herself, but Richie paid her no mind. He watched Eddie like a hawk, and he was back to wanting all of this to be fucking over with.
Not because he was uncomfortable. Or, well, he was slightly uncomfortable, but in a much more fun way.
Eddie's face was as red as a tomato. As far as Richie could tell when he caught glimpses of it, becasue Eddie was desperately trying to hide his face. Hide his entire being. If they hadn't seen Bev in awhile, he most likely would have retreated and holed up in their bedroom.
Honestly, the dumbass probably extended an invitation for dinner for Bev and her assistant while Richie had been getting dressed, and he was going to have to try and not squirm his way through the whole ordeal.
Because no matter what Richie thought about how he looked all trussed up like some sort of performing monkey, Eddie apparently thought he looked good enough to eat.
Luckily for Richie (while unfortunate for easily embarrassed Eddie) Bev could also read Eddie like a book. Once she had stuck a few pins here and there where needed and had Suze, her assistant as Richie had learned, help Richie undress so nothing moved, she was excusing herself.
"As I said, I'll be here for the week. So we can catch up tomorrow. I know Eddie's had a long day, so I'll leave you two be. Besides... It'll be nice to get started on the alterations right away while everything is still fresh in my mind."
Then she left with an over-exaggerated wink, and Eddie groaned.
"I'm never going to live this down, am I?" he asked, and Richie cackled. "Oh, shut up."
"You love me."
Eddie rolled his eyes.
"God knows why I do."
"You thought I looked hot in that suit," Richie teased, shuffling closer to Eddie, who visibly gulped.
"I may have, yes," he answered tentatively.
"You know, if you come with me to the ceremony, you could admire me in the suit all night," Richie said, knowing the moment the words left his mouth that it was a step too far.
Eddie had said no, and Richie did respect that.
But Eddie didn't look angry. He looked almost predatory, and Richie felt like a baby gazelle -- and not just because of his freakishly long legs that didn't work half of the time.
"No, it's a good thing I won't be there," Eddie said, slowly advancing on him. Ready to pounce. "Because I wouldn't be able to stop myself from fucking you right there in front of everyone."
Holy shit, that was hot, Richie thought.
"Holy fucking shit, that was so fuckin' hot baby," is what he said.
"I know," Eddie told him, the smug bastard. He ran his hand up Richie's chest, now only covered in a threadbare tee that said 'My body is a machine that turns cats into kissed cats' with a bunch of Photoshopped swaks on furry foreheads. "I like you in all clothes, of course. I like you in no clothes even better, but I think you should dress up more. Only for me, though."
Richie's head fell back and he let out a rather unattractive groan.
"God, I love confident and sexy Eddie so much."
"Oh, so you only love me for my dick," Eddie joked, but Richie still tried to protest. Eddie cut him off with a kiss, chaste despite the nature of their ribbing. Then he mumbled against Richie's lips, "It's alright. I only love you for your ass."
Richie laughed so hard, and Eddie berated him for blowing out his eardrum. There were some melodramatic wipes to get rid of imaginary spittle, lots more kisses, and an uncoordinated dance to get to their bedroom. Somehow along the way they managed to lose most of their clothes. Richie still had on one sock and his heart patterned boxers (to match his shirt) and Eddie had a white tank and his suspenders.
How they were still hanging on his shoulders without falling off, Richie didn't know.
He wasn't going to say anything, though. Eddie wasn't alone in the clothing kink department it turns out,and Richie was going to admire how the suspenders accentuated the muslces in Eddie's biceps. Biting was Eddie's thing, but Richie suddenly understood it, because he wanted to bite Eddie's biceps.
He settled for squeezing them when Eddie reeled him in for another kiss.
This one finally gave Richie the passion he was looking for.
Before Eddie, Richie had hated kissing. He just wanted to get in, get off, and get out. Now? It was his favorite thing. Even when Eddie would start to leave kisses all over Richie's body and talk about how much he loved every part. It made Richie super self conscious, but he believed Eddie.
Especailly since it was currently "Kiss Richie and Tell Him Why I Love This Part of Him in the Suit" Special Edition.
"I loved how broad it made your shoulders look," he was saying, walking around Richie so he could kiss said shoulders. Then, as if he couldn't make up hismind, he came right back around kissed the sagging bags on Richie's face and told him, "I loved how it brought out the grey in your eyes." Eddie pushed the garrish boxers down so the elastic rested under the swell of Richie's ass and mercifully took his cock in hand. "And I really loved how it left nothing to the imagination."
"Eddie!" Richie said, doing his best impression of a Southern belle.
Eddie rolled his eyes as he kept pumping Richie's cock. Once he got Richie fully hard, he gently lowered himself to his knees... because they weren't spring chickens anymore.
That meant Richie had time to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and yet he practically screamed when Eddie replaced his hand with his mouth. Richie was sure if Eddie could do so at the same time, he'd be singing Richie's dick's praises, but it was probably for the best that he couldn't. Richie was babbling so much, he would have drowned him out.
It was Richie's turn to tell Eddie what he loved about him.
Or well, he could tell Eddie over and over again how much he loved his mouth.
And his tongue!
See! He remembered other words!
Actually, all he really ended up saying was 'Eddie' and 'fuck' over and over again, but he supposed that was pretty damn romantic. What wasn't romantic about being lost in the throes of passion, after all?
Richie's hands found purchase in Eddie's hair, holding on not too tightly, and not guiding him in any way.
Never guiding him.
Eddie didn't like that.
So he let Eddie take the lead. They had been together long enough that he had become rather good at sucking dick. Not as good as Richie, but hey.
No one could ever be as good as Richie.
Eddie was gagging slightly, bobbing his head fast but efficiently. Distantly it registerd that he must have decided that actually, he would very much like to not be kneeling on the floor.
A normal, sane person would have tapped Eddie on the shoulder to get his attention, suggest they move to the bed, and continue there. But Richie was neither normal or sane.
And Eddie wasn't either.
Yeah, they weren't about to stop and lose the flow.
If Eddie wanted to try and make Richie come before his germaphobia became too much of an issue?
Richie was game.
Even at his horniest, Eddie was usually quite composed, so the frankly obscene slurping coming from him had Richie embarrassingly close. He took the risk and glanced down, letting loose a colorful stream of curse words (although it was mostly still 'fuck's.) Eddie had drool dripping down his chin because his abused, red lips could barely close around Richie's cock. Which technically should have set them back from their goal, but that sight?
It was more beautiful than any painting Richie had ever seen.
He moaned loudly, his fingers tightening just a little more in Eddie's hair. Eddie huffed around him, the air from his nose tickling Richie's pelvis. Richie unclenched hishands, but that meant his toes were about to shread his damn sock apart as he tried not to reflexively do something stupid.
Like kick his leg out.
Eddie would never forgive him if Richie kicked him in the head and gave him a concussion.
Worse, still, if then Richie came all over him and Eddie had to clean up before Richie could rush him to the E.R.
Anyway, the point was, Richie was close.
Dangerously close, he thought.
"I'm about to fuckin' bust down your throat," is what he told Eddie.
Eddie kept going at the frantic pace he had set, but Richie could tell he so badly wanted to tell him off for his choice of words. Luckily for Eddie, and unfortunately for Richie, that was quite literally when Richie's climax hit.
That berating was a-comin'.
Eddie swallowed as much of Richie's cum as he could. He was always a champ, but Richie knew he'd be sneaking off to the bathroom sooner or later so he could chug some Pepto. (The other main reason they kept it on hand, after Richie's nervous tummy.) Richie knew he and his love wasn't going to fundamentally change Eddie, and he wouldn't have wanted it to.
So he wasn't offended.
Hopefully he was able to make Eddie feel good in return before he started spiraling.
Eddie fell back on his haunches, and Richie attempted to join him on the floor, but Eddie launched forward so he could stop him. He hugged Richie's legs so that he was unable to even try a second time.
"Don't you dare fuck up your knee, old man."
"Aw, you really do love me," Richie said, batting his eyes.
"No, this is purely selfish. You'd keep me up bitching about it if I don't stop you."
(Which in Eddie speak meant, 'Yes, darling, I really do love you. Now let's get into bed.')
So Richie helped Eddie to his feet, they finally stumbled the rest of the way to their bed, Eddie sadly threw his suspenders off to the side, and Richie repaid the favor. Eddie said he was starting to get tired after his long day doing... whatever it was that he actually did, plus having Bev over, so Richie simply used his hand.
Quick and dirty.
That just meant he could spoil Eddie in the morning when Eddie's alarm inevitably woke him up as well.
Richie wiped the mess off on his boxers, despite the face that Eddie made. Actually because of the face. Eddie was adorable when he scrunched his nose up like that.
Richie waited for the bathroom run, but it looked like Eddie wasn't planning on moving any time soon, so Richie rested his head on Eddie's shoulder.
"You know, I really don't mind that you aren't coming to the Emmy's. You do know that, right?"
Eddie sighed, but he ducked down so he could kiss Richie's head.
(Right where Richie fucking swore he was starting to bald, and nothing Eddie said could convince him otherwise.)
"I know that. I do. I wouldn't be with you if I couldn't handle how you don't know when to let a joke go half the time. Honestly, not even a joke. You keep making your comments, thinking their hidden by humor, but it makes it very obvious your trying to prove how okay you are with it. It's so over the top that you skipped over compensating. So, yeah, I know that you really don't mind."
"I like being able to show you off," Richie said, because he really still couldn't believe that he landed a hottie like Eddie. "But I like you being happy and safe and not seconds away from gouging some C-List celebrity's eyes out better."
Eddie laughed loud enough that Richie jiggled with him.
"Well, I suppose we can do a coffee run together tomorrow and get 'caught' by the paparazzi, if you want. I'll let you hold my hand in the pictures and everything."
"Sounds fantastic, babe," Richie mumbled, starting to feel sleepy himself.
"All I ask," Eddie said, trailing his fingers up and down Richie's arm, "is you wear something nice."
Richie's eyes flew open.
Oh no. The suit had created a monster.