Chapter Text
“Alright, Eddie,” Annique muttered to him. “You ready for this?”
“Not in the slightest,” he replied quietly, as he got up and followed her. And, gee, he thought, as he carefully toed over the crowds of curious stares from students sitting on the floor, what a motto for the semester.
He huffed out a nervous breath as he stood on what could be called the stage but it wasn’t created by a rise in the floor. It was created by a lack of students. Although Standing O was the only entirely student-run recital of sorts, to Eddie it almost seemed most prestiguous. All of the students thus far were cheering their way through routines, laughing and chanting “yaaaaas~” and taking instagram videos. He initially wanted to scoff and call the entire thing a popularity contest. But he kind of figured that those teen movies he saw in middle school lied to him about popularity only mattering in high school. It seemed more and more apparent to him that life was a bit of a popularity contest.
And, speaking of popular, out of the mess of the students on the floor, standing by the door, was Richie. He was leaning against it, arms folded, soft smile on his face. He looked a little confused, as his text to Eddie would indicate, because he got there in time to see the last two numbers. He didn’t know what Eddie would be doing in such a show-case, primarily that of hip-hop, neither, apparently, did the rest of the students.
Neither, really, did Eddie, but one joke to Annique went and made itself an actual reality, and there he was, readying himself in between the two ladies, Annique and her friend Amber, in fifth position.
The beginning was actually Amber’s idea, and designed to confuse. The music began, by one of the three giggling seniors on the floor who had already seen the routine, when they auditioned a week prior. They danced through a small ballet combination, more the girls dancing around Eddie than anything else, as he was a strong arm, or shoulder, to lean on. He felt his face burning under the scrutiny of his peers - because they truly had no idea what the fuck they were watching or how it got in.
And then the beat dropped.
“ I’ been here all night ~” step, pivot turn, BREATHE, drop. Snap.
“ I’ been here all day~ ” up, YOU’RE NOT GONNA DIE, EDDIE, BREATHE, Snap. Snap. Hip. Jesus.
“ And boi~ ” FACE YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR AND REALIZE THIS IS WHAT YOUR LIFE IS AND HAS COME TO, WATCH YOURSELF DO IT BECAUSE YOU HAVE TO, “you got me walkin’-” that hip thing looked good, though, “ you got me walkin’ side to side~ ”
The entire room seemingly at once had realized what they done. Both the first person to laugh, boldly, and from the back of the room, was Richie.
Eddie, for all he tried, still wasn’t great at the routine. His hips, and lines, especially compared to the pieces at the beginning, paled in comparison to his peers. Hip hop was as much of a difficult art form as ballet, and it wasn’t to be mastered in two weeks. But the room burst into applause and hollers so loud he could barely hear Ariana Grande singing about getting fucked an inch within her life. He just started to laugh, and hoped the silliness would nullify his shortcomings.
Hip. Hip. Drop, roll. Snap right, left, gha gha gha, up. SNAP.
Eddie wished it was a blur to him, but it was a painfully slow burn of facing his classmates down, trying to fake the confidence he didn’t really have, hips shimmying, face laughing. Richie, literally losing it in the corner. More snapping than necessary. But, really, truly, just a whole lot of fun.
“ This the new style, with the fresh type of flow ~” Foot, foot, hip pop, 4-5-6. Rock, rock.
“ Wrist icicle ,” turn, don’t look at yourself, drop. “ Ride dick bicycle ,” bounce, bounce.
“ Come true, yo, get you this type of blow ~” head rolls, knees. Pop. Hold.
“ If you wanna menage ,” Rise. “I gotta tricycle. ” Look back, girls lean in. Hold. Try not to die. Pray your mother never finds out.
Eddie was almost too distracted laughing, hugging the shit out of Annique when the room burst into applause, to see Richie. But Richie was fighting his way through the sea of students, a vans-wearing Moses, parting the ocean. Without a single word, clap, or any sort of signal, he walked straight up to Eddie.
“Richie-” he laughed, “what-”
But Richie didn’t answer, and instead, pick him up by the waist, and with a bit more struggle than he had before, threw him over his shoulder.
After already publicly embarrassing himself, he almost reacted with his initial defense mechanism, and kneed Richie in the stomach. The room only seemed to laugh harder as Richie made his way back through the crowd of students. Eddie tilted his head up, looking at Annique in her pink tie up top and shorts, laughing. He could only laugh at himself too. Abi waved at him from the floor. And instead of freaking out, instead of yelling and fighting, he did what his heart was doing. He raised his body just enough to face the students still laughing and clapping, and raised his hand in a power fist. Like the end of the Breakfast Club.
The room roared.
Richie set him down two steps away from the door, hands teasingly sliding up his body as Eddie slid down. “Oh my god,” Richie, Eddie hadn’t realized in the ruckus of the studio, was actually still kind of laughing. “You absolute legend.” And before Eddie could even really look up, or respond, or do anything, Richie was leaning down to kiss him. His hands were low on his waist, drawing him in close. Eddie let it happen, pressing in for just a second, before pulling back with a solid smack . Richie didn’t let him get far, sending his heart into flurries, craning his neck down to press his forehead to Eddie’s, “can we, please, please, go have sex now?” He muttered, fingers digging into his back.
“You know I’m not letting you anywhere near my ass, right?”
“You should know that I do.”
And Eddie flushed, because he knew that he did. The last time they had sex, it had been in Eddie’s room, and almost achingly slow.
Eddie found himself incredibly nervous about topping so to speak. When he had watched porn, the muscular guys with large bodies timed their thrusts well with their big ol’ dicks. Often times holding down the smaller guy. Eddie didn’t know how he’d feel trying to overpower anyone, but especially Richie, being so much taller and larger than him, he was certain he’d feel like a chihuahua humping a doberman.
Plus, he had read article after Buzzfeed article about how size really doesn’t matter, guys, but he wasn’t thoroughly convinced. He didn’t really think almost 4 inches, barely going on 5 hard, yes he remembered shamefully stealing a ruler from his mother as a late teen and then throwing it away, was going to impress anyone.
But Richie had perched over him, feet on either side. He dragged himself up and down Eddie’s cock, so painfully slowly, rubbing straight into that little sponge-y bit of his inner walls that Eddie was certain he’d never be able to find going at it from behind. He held Eddie’s face with his hands, thumbs stroking his cheeks as Eddie choked on air, pressing little kisses into his cheeks. He held Eddie’s face like it was precious. Something to be cherished. Something he did cherish. Eddie tried to keep a steady hand on Richie’s cock, bobbing between them, rhythm made with each other in loving time. They left the lights on, flourescents harsh on their skin, leaving any imperfections bared for the other.
And it wasn’t really about anyone over-powering anybody or who was on top and who was fucking who. It was about an enhanced feeling of togetherness, of intimacy and vulnerability that Eddie hadn’t experienced thus far. Even with himself. He hadn’t really taken the time to get to know his body the way Richie seemed to be, silent for the first time in their relationship except for soft grunts and the occasional moan. He didn’t know any other way to describe it, other than sounding like a flowery romance novel moms have hidden away with a bottle of wine and chocolate. Richie squeezed around him, walls tightening as he got closer, ridges unlike anything Eddie had ever felt before. Eddie came with a cry.
He shivered just remembering it, getting a little hard in his tight shorts.
“Yeah-” he grabbed Richie’s hand, ignored his smug face, and tugged him down the hall. “Let’s go.”
“Eds,” Eddie was faintly aware he was getting jostled and fully aware he didn’t care for that one bit.
“Mmglark-” was his beautiful song of protest. He huffed on the skin under his mouth, thinking it was a collar bone or a rib. He shoved his face into it, feeling his body heavy with sleep, his eyes completely protesting the mere idea of light.
“Babe,” Richie’s lips brushed against his forehead. “Some of us have to go to their finals.” Eddie had his last dance final the day before, and so he was scot free. Richie tried to roll him off of his body. Eddie went further lax, weighing himself down harder. “Babe.”
“Don’t go,” Eddie murmured into his body, gripping him with whatever he could get his hands on. “Stay here, I’ll give you a final.” He tried to sound seductive but he really didn’t know what that meant.
“That is…” Richie chuckled, “the last thing I’d expect to hear from my boyfriend’s mouth.” Eddie’s head jolted up, eyes blinking in the light at that. He kind of figured that’s where they were at, but neither of them had necessarily said it yet. Richie’s face was large, warm and lovely in the soft light of the dorm, the sun forcing them to greet the day because the three of them never bought curtains, of course they didn’t. Eddie didn’t even know what to say for that, so he launched himself forward and connected their mouths, running his tongue along Richie’s bottom lip. Richie’s tongue flicked against his with a delighted little shiver.
“Oh,” Bill’s voice threw in from across the room, “how the turn tables.” But Eddie wasn’t really paying attention, because Richie nipped at his bottom lip.
“I have something to show you,” Richie muttered practically in his mouth and Eddie became very acutely turned on to the last time Richie brushed his teeth which wasn’t within the last few hours, so Eddie slid back, flopping on his back on the bed. Richie gracelessly tumbled out of his bed and on to his feet.
“Do you?” He asked, eyes squinting and flinching in the light.
“Gross, man.” Mike told him from the door, bag on his shoulders. Eddie laughed. Mike was wearing some deep-set exhaustion, and was holding what seemed to be a very long paper. “Later, guys.”
“I’ll come with.” Bill commented, grabbing his bag from the floor.
“Bill, buddy,” Richie stopped from where he was standing. “You’re wearing one shoe.”
“I’ll find another, it’s fine.” And the door shut behind him.
Richie blinked at the door, then Eddie. He grabbed his glasses from the crate he used as a nightstand. “I’d say I don’t understand him, but I definitely do.”
“Scarier all the more.” Eddie laughed, sitting up and stretching in Richie’s bedsheets, which they had mutually agreed he’d just toss when he left campus in another two days. Eddie would be there for another three weeks for recital. It was okay, they’d be reuniting at Eddie’s home the week after, his mother opening their doors with open arms and an invitation to get a grand piano which was just -. She was who she was. And Eddie was nervous, but tingling with excitement, to watch Richie experience all Maine had to offer. Which wasn't much. But he'd be there. So. They also had vague plans for Eddie to meet Richie’s parents in August, that being contingent on his mother letting him skip a week of dance. It was a hard tentative. “What are you showing me?” He eyed Richie’s sweat pants.
“My eyes are up here, thanks.” Richie joked, grinning. He pulled a scantron out of his bag. “I was so nervous I asked to pick it up yesterday.”
CALC - 100% was written across the top of it. Richie watched Eddie look at it, hands clasped in front of him, looking like a nervous school child. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, his smile tight.
“Richie,” Eddie exhaled happily, almost sighing his name. “Baby, that’s so awesome.” Richie’s face split into a happy grin, and he collapsed on top of him. Eddie couldn’t breathe in the slightest, but that was funny. He’d take that for Richie.
“It wasn’t stressful at all too,” he kissed Eddie’s face like Eddie had done anything to help. Eddie didn’t know calculus from a cullander. “I just… got it. It was fucking awesome. Once I was into it, I just, like, was you know?”
“It’s challenging, but you like challenges.” Eddie grinned into Richie’s heavy shoulder.
“Yeah,” Richie leaned back, head haloed in the light from the window, dark hair flecked with soft brown. “I do.”
“Well, maybe,” he pushed some hair behind his ear, scratching his fingers on the scalp there. Richie hummed softly, shutting his eyes and pushing his head into it. “You should take some more. I never really got why you’re studying something you know how to do.”
“You know how to dance,” Richie reminded him thoughtfully, but not fully rejecting his comment.
“Trust me, there is so much shit I don’t know about dance,” Eddie replied seriously, letting Richie flop on to his chest, wrapping his arms behind his head. “Amongst other things.”
And it was true. There was a lot Eddie didn’t know. Like how to do a presage lift without Abi smashing her face into the floor. Or how televisions worked. Or everything about Richie. Or what their life would even be like next semester. But he did know with the warm sun on his face, and Richie’s pressing his body into the shitty dorm bed, quite full-heartedly, that he was happy.
It wasn't something he had placed a ton of value in, he realized. He had been so busy chasing his own personal success, he hadn't given his happiness much of a thought. He didn't even know when he had begun to consider the two synonymous. And he still might, a little bit, already thinking about the warm up he'd go through after Richie left for class. But any day with an eight hour dance rehearsal, could certainly spare itself fifteen minutes of laying with Richie. And maybe even, just sometimes, some sex - and after quiet hours, too. Because Eddie Kaspbrak had become pretty sure that being unhappy was the biggest waste of time possible.