It’s not that Eddie is afraid of Richie. That is definitely not the case. It could never be. The words scary and Richie shouldn’t even exist in the same sentence. It’s more the idea that he’s scared of what he’ll say if the topic is broached. It’s a stupid, idiotic, irrational fear. Something that definitely shouldn’t exist, but does. Weirdly. The proof sitting uncomfortably right in the thick of his chest for what has felt like forever.

Eddie honest to God did not think it could settle in any further, or become any worse, but it does, right when he’s in the middle of Yankee Candle staring at one of the pictures on the label of a candle.

He came here to feel relaxed. Christmas shopping shouldn’t be this pressuring, and usually it’s not. He loves Christmas shopping. But every person that passed by with a baby carriage felt like a shove to Eddie’s soul; a new voice in his head whispering what're you gonna do, Eddie? He feels more than a little suffocated walking around in his puffer coat.

He shrugged off his coat as soon as he entered the store, and started picking up candles mindlessly to sniff them, and then of course Baby Powder decided to grace his presence, and now he’s having a bit of a crisis. Right in the middle of the fucking Yankee Candle.

There isn’t even a baby on the picture label. It’s just baby powder and a mirror and a brush. But then of course there’s that stupid word printed right below the picture. Baby. Like it’s there solely just to taunt him and remind him exactly of what he is trying to escape right outside in the mall.

“Eddie? Joe & The Juice is closed— shit, Eddie, what was that for?” Stan gasps, jumping and staring at Eddie incredulously as the candle that had once been in his hand hits the floor and shatters.

Eddie himself had jumped, but because of Stan, and then jumped again when the candle had hit the floor, breaking him out of the trance he had been in. “I didn’t realize you were there—“ he mutters, looking over at the employee that’s rushing over to them, smiling apologetically.

He feels a tug on his hand, and looks down and into the eyes of the main problem of it all. He loves Stan, he really does, but he cannot understand for the life of him why he chose Stan of all people to go Christmas shopping with. “Uncle Eddie? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Rachel. Just had a little accident, is all.” Eddie responds grabbing her hand and tugging her lightly into his grasp. He picks her up, and smiles genuinely at the worried look in her green eyes. He sighs, handing her over to Stan, and mutters, “I’m gonna go pay for this,” he nods over to the mess on the floor that the employee has started to clean up, “I’ll be right back.”

He pays for the dumb candle, and gets a few judging looks from a few customers, and a few from employees, but he doesn’t really care, a real sign of how much this stupid baby situation has affected him.

Stan tugs him out of the store when he’s finished, and gives him a sour look. “What’s the matter with you? It’s not like I snuck up on you. Why were you in there anyway? You’re supposed to be Christmas shopping.”

“Well, why are you helping me? You don’t even celebrate Christmas,” Eddie shoots back, feeling incredibly childish and stupid the second the words leave his mouth. He's the one who asked Stan to come, for Christ’s sake.

Stan gives him a strange look, his brows furrowing. “Are you okay?“

“I want a baby,” Eddie blurts. He looks at Stan, and then away, and then at Rachel.

“Oh.” Stan’s eyes go dead, and then he kind of smiles.

Eddie waits a second. His mind drifts to a script, and then to a character “waiting a beat” to talk or do something, and then anxiety grows in his chest for the lack of talking. “Oh?” He parrots, looking away from his niece and waving his arm in indication that Stan needs to say more right now. “I don’t really like that response, Stanley. Did you know, or something? What is oh?”

Stan just smiles some more, shaking his head. “Yes, I kind of knew—“

“How?” Eddie interrupts quickly. Stan gives him a look. “Sorry,” he replies.

“Yes, I knew—“ he gives Eddie another pointed look, “— you’re not that subtle, you know. You’re always the first to volunteer when me and Patty need a sitter—“

“Maybe I just want to help—“

Stan continues like he had not just been interrupted, slightly louder than before, “— and you get Rachel anything she wants— even when we tell her no,” he pronounces, and Eddie is rewarded with another one of Stan’s wonderfully charming looks.

Eddie shrugs, schooling his expression into something undisturbed, but the warmth in his cheeks gives him away. “I like being of service.”

“Yeah right—“ Stan rolls his eyes, continuing, “—and you’ve been staring at strollers sadly all day. Like how Richie looks when he’s passing by a Cold Stone,” Stan finishes distractedly, tugging Rachel along as she gazes distractedly at the Build-A-Bear they had just passed. “Does he know?” Stan says abruptly when he turns back around.

Eddie’s eyes go round as he stares right back at Stan. “Does who know what?”

“Eddie,” Stan says, like Eddie is the dumbest person on Earth. He sure feels like it already, the look Stan is giving him the cherry on top of his rapidly growing feeling of stupidity. “Does Richie Margaret Tozier— your husband—“ he enunciates, “— know how you are feeling?”

“Oh.” Eddie repeats. “Um. Not— not entirely.”

Stan nods, beckoning for Eddie to continue. “Okay. What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, Stan— okay? I haven’t actually said shit to him about it. Maybe he’s been as observant as you—“ he sighs. All kinds of responses jumble up in his brain. “I don’t know.”

As of late, nothing seems particularly wrong with Richie; it doesn’t really seem like he’s been feeling like he’s missing something from his life, like Eddie has been feeling these past couple of months. He seems perfectly happy with just Berry and Happy, shrieking at the top of his lungs in excitement when they bark excitedly as he enters the house, running around and playing with them around their apartment, laughing boisterously as they shake in the tub when he’s bathing them.

Eddie is happy with them too, don’t get him wrong. He loves his dogs more than anything. But he would love his kid more than anything, too.

He sighs. Richie of all people should not make him nervous. Especially not at thirty-one years old, after how long they’ve been together. And it’s not just Richie, he supposes. The idea of raising a kid is plenty scary, too. But after many anxiety ridden hours and some crying, he’s decided that this is exactly what he wants; his mother’s raising tactics and habits and the idea that he would fuck up his kid be damned. Just asking himself the question am I going to be just like my mother? is answer enough for him; the honest-to-God absolute truth that he has his child’s best interests at heart.

And he’s already committed to the thought of all the responsibilities that come with a baby; the sacrifice of all his time, leaving his kids at school with some stranger because of no time, all of the expenses, the paperwork, the patience—

He tries not to dwell on any of that too much— the thought leaving him uneasy and more than a little sad.

His baby induced state of mind had started back in September, at the start of the new school year. His new kids— all about seven or eight years old— had rushed in incredibly excited and bursting with energy into the classroom, and Eddie had dreamt that night of Richie dropping a kid off at the middle school down the block while he watched from the side. He vividly remembers waking up with tears in his eyes, and rushing to the bathroom before Richie had woken up.

It’s been three whole months since that day, and Eddie has dreams like that about twice a week. Sometimes he remembers them in vivid detail, and other times basically the whole of them disappear, and Eddie is left with the fleeting feeling of a kiss on the cheek from a pair of chapped lips, or the brief contact of two splintery arms wrapping around his waist and a head pressing into his stomach from someone he wished he knew but doesn’t.

It felt weird and awful and unlike him to keep that first dream from Richie, and it still does. It’s something that’s always there in the back of his brain, no matter what he’s doing. Doing this— talking to Stan— is actually exactly what he needed, and he’s reminded of why it’s Stan here and not Bill, or something. Also Stan is abnormally good at picking out gifts.

Rachel squeals in delight at something, causing Stan to pitch his voice in a tone that could rival a siren, trying to get her attention and definitely catching Eddie’s own attention, making him jump. Again. He stares, losing his train of thought, as Stan chases after her.

“No, Rachel. No! Come on, we’re not going into that store— “ he basically shouts, pushing his way between what looks to be about a million tourists. He picks up Rachel carefully when he reaches her, turning back to Eddie and waiting to let him catch up, looking a little frustrated. “Just— just talk to him, Eddie. I mean, it can be pretty nerve wracking, yeah, but it’s also the best feeling in the world when your kid calls you ‘daddy’, or they take their first step, or so much as speak,” he says, any evidence of a drop in mood gone, face brightening up significantly as he continues. “But if you’re not ready just yet, then talk to someone at least. Like me, or Patty, or—“

Eddie sighs roughly, and Stan stops talking abruptly. He’s vaguely reminded of how much he appreciates that little aspect of ranting to Stan. “It’s just— I don’t know when to bring it up, Stan,” he groans, “it’s like— it’s like when he comes home from work, it’s always really late, and I don’t know how to bring it up.”

“That makes it sound like you guys don’t talk to each other,” Stan states, frowning. “And I’m pretty sure that’s definitely not true.”

“No!” Eddie hastens to say, “That’s not what I meant. At all. It’s just that Richie’s show usually runs til’ really late, and it’s always, like, ten or eleven when he gets home. And I’m always tired when he gets back, and obviously so is he, so all we really do is eat dinner and talk about our days and go to sleep, or eat and watch TV or something,” a breathy sigh heaves from his lips as he plops down into a chair as they end up at the food court. “It’s just like— I physically can’t bring it up. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s just— hard,” he settles with, his head ending up buried in his hands.

When he peaks from in between his fingers, Stan is sitting directly across from him—Rachel in the seat right next to her father— and giving him a sympathetic look, and that’s just about the last thing he wants. “I don’t want you to feel bad for me, Stanley—” he starts firmly, ready to start one up on him, but Stan rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“I’m not going to do that, Eddie. I just want you to be happy. You’re the only one who can control that. Not me, or Richie, or anyone else. And I understand if you’re not ready to talk about it with Richie, but it’ll be okay as long as you do what you want for yourself.”

Eddie smiles. “I know,” he mutters. Horribly so, he feels the slight sting of tears threatening to spill from his eyes, and he groans roughly, trying to laugh. “So serious, Stanley! Let’s go get ice cream,” he says, probably a little too loudly, standing up to walk to the escalators.

Rachel cheers, hopping down from her seat, and Stan gives him a confused look. He stands up anyway, following Eddie’s retreating form. “But this food court doesn’t have ice cream, it’s all the way downstairs. Why did we walk here then? And shouldn’t you be Christmas shopping?”

Eddie shrugs, linking hands with Rachel when she skips up to him. “I don’t know, I’ll get to it later! But hurry up, Stan! We’ll miss all of the ice cream!” He says, purely to get a laugh out of Rachel.

“Yeah, come on Stan!” Rachel pipes up, laughing highly too.

The look Stan gives him when he turns around is too amusing for Eddie to stay upset at that moment.

And when he leaves, vanilla ice cream in one hand and Rachel’s in the other, he’s in such better spirits that he can’t even be upset that he didn’t get any Christmas shopping done.

When he pushes the door open to his apartment, Richie is stretched across the couch with Berry draped over his torso, covering the faded design of the B-52’s hoodie Eddie knows is on the chest of it, and his sock clad feet are thrown over the arm of it while Happy is stretched along the back of the couch, snoring away.

“Baby!” Richie says, tearing his eyes away from the TV. He beckons Eddie over, seeming unable to stand up, with a bright smile. “How was the mall? I’ve been waiting forever, shugah.”

“Fine,” Eddie replies, hanging his coat and scarf on the coat rack by the door. He peels his hat off too, placing that on the hook, and makes his way over to Richie. He drops a kiss on Richie’s already puckered lips and scratches at Berry’s ears then moves to Happy’s. “Why are you home so early?”

“I told them all to fuck themselves cause I’m not gonna talk into a microphone by myself from seven at night to eleven the week of Christmas,” Richie says with a charming smile.

Eddie snorts, sitting down on the arm by Richie’s head. “You didn’t say that, dummy.”

“Nah, I kinda wish I did though. I had to fight tooth and nail to get them to let me change my hours. I mean,” Richie waves his hand around, frowning, “it’s my fucking show. I should be able to choose when it runs,” he sighs roughly, his hand finally settling in Berry’s fur.

Hours. Fuck, Eddie thinks, hour changes. Babies.

His own hand makes its way into Richie’s mass of curls, and he scratches lightly. He worries at the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, frowning.

Richie makes a pleased sound, and he purrs like a cat. “How was your day?” He says, yawning.

“Hm?” Eddie says absentmindedly, staring at the candle on the coffee table.

“Your— your day, baby, how was it?” Richie says with another yawn, sounding sleepy.

“It was— it was okay. Just me, Stan, and Rachel,” he says listlessly, scratching above his ear now. He starts to worry at his bottom lip, turning his attention to Richie finally, who isn’t looking at him but has his eyes shut, scratching behind Berry’s own ear.

He wants to bring it up right now, he really does, his day with Stan having lifted off some pressure off him. But Richie seems tired. And it’s seven o’clock. And Eddie does not really feel like having this discussion at seven o’clock at night.

But it couldn’t hurt, right? Richie is in a sleep-happy state of mind, and Eddie is energized after his little pep talk with Stan. Kind of. Well, he feels a little tired. Maybe he’ll take a nap and then bring it up.

He nods to himself, deciding that that’s exactly what he’ll do, scooting in next to Richie and stretching out his legs. He presses his face into Richie’s shoulder, letting Richie curl around him as Berry climbs over their legs to rest at the other end of the couch, and tries to convince himself that this is a wonderfully perfect idea, and that he’ll wake up soon.

This was a horribly flawed idea.

First, he wakes up with a terrible crick in his neck. Eddie’s not that old, not at all, but he’s definitely not as young as he used to be either, being able to get away with sleeping on the floor and sharing small beds with his friends as teenagers. He’s at least grateful that their couch is comfortable.

He also wakes up with a cramp in his wrist and shoulder. And he didn’t brush his teeth, so his mouth feels and tastes disgusting.

And of course, somewhere in the back of his mind a voice sounding suspiciously like Stan was telling him how dumb of an idea this was, because not only would he have physical damage from sleeping on the couch— with his beanstalk of a husband, no less— he would also definitely fall asleep and not talk to Richie about starting a family.

He gently untangles himself from Richie’s arms and stands up from the couch, stretching his arms above his head and listening to his joints crack and pop, then doing the same to his neck. Berry and Happy follow him to the kitchen, waiting to be fed. While filling their bowls on the countertop, Eddie catches sight of the time glaring at him from the microwave, and sighs. 8:47, it blinks at him. He briefly wonders where he left his phone, and goes to check his coat pocket when he deposits the dogs’ bowls on the floor.

He pads softly over to the coat rack, careful not to wake Richie up, and feels around his pockets for his phone, letting out a soft breath when he feels it.

Mike - Message
Ben - (3) Messages
Ben - Missed Call
Stan - Missed Call
Bev - (2) Messages
Bev - Missed FaceTime Call

He sighs, opening up Mike’s message. Something about borrowing their shovel. He types out bill has our shovel, and hits send. He completely disregards Stan’s call, not wanting to get into that just yet, and not bothering with Ben’s messages at all, he just decides to swipe on the missed call. He walks to his room, listening to the phone ring, and plops down at the end of the bed.

“Eddie?” He hears on the fourth ring. He had expected Ben to answer; he’s always been an early riser like Eddie. He sounds fairly awake, if not just the slightest bit hoarse, as he continues, “what’s up?”

“You tell me,” Eddie replies, flopping backward softly. He rubs a hand over his eyes, closing them, “why are both of the Hanscoms’ paging me?”

“Huh? Oh!” Ben chuckles softly, “Bev wanted your opinion on a Christmas present for Richie, and I wanted to see if you wanted to grab dinner. I was really close to your place.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, I passed out on the couch. I had just gotten home from the mall with Stan and Rachel,” he says apologetically. “We can go out today, if you want. I don’t have any leftover work to do, so I’m free whenever. Do you want to go to lunch? Or breakfast, maybe? Actually,” Eddie pauses, mulling it over. He supposes it wouldn’t be bad to get more than one person’s view on things, and Ben is by far the most romantic of them all. He smiles to himself, getting eager, as he continues, “I want to talk about something. Can we please meet up today?”

Ben agrees happily, and they settle for half past ten at some place about equal distance from both their places. Eddie grabs a pair of jeans, a pair of boxers, and a pair of socks from his dresser and a sweater from his closet, making his way to their bathroom. He strips down, throwing all of his clothes in the hamper standing next to their sink, and steps into the shower, turning the knob so the water is hot enough to fill the bathroom with a cloud of steam.

Humming that one part from “Last Christmas” to himself, he grabs the soap off of the dish sticking in the corner and lathers it up, spreading it all over himself, and then suddenly he’s being pushed gently into the wall and kissed softly on the shoulders. “Why didn’t you wake me, Eds?” Richie mutters, wrapping two arms around Eddie’s chest.

Eddie turns around in Richie’s loose grip, smiling up at him and pushing his increasingly growing wet bangs out of his face with a soapy hand, and speaks with a false insolence that is not very convincing, “You’re a huge baby when someone wakes you up. And we were sleeping on the couch.”

He bares a large grin down at Eddie. “Fuck yeah I am.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, huffing a laugh. His own hands run up from Richie’s lower back and up to the back of his head, tugging him down with a hand in his hair while the other slides down to knead at his broad shoulders, licking lightly into Richie’s open mouth and forgetting all of the little worries in this sweet, blissful moment.

Getting his clothes on is no small feat, with Richie kissing his face and neck and chest and getting all riled up like some teenager. It’s incredibly endearing.

When Eddie finally gets around to brushing his teeth, he turns around and presses a lasting kiss to Richie’s mouth, his hands framing Richie’s face gently. “I—“ he presses a kiss to Richie’s mouth, “— have—“ another to his nose, “—to—“ one to his cheek, “— go!” He finishes with a bouncy kiss to his forehead, skipping out of the bathroom and to their room to grab his phone, and then to the coat rack to grab his coat. Shrugging on his coat, he feels around for his keys, sighing in relief when he feels them also in his pocket.

Richie trails after him all the while, slowly even after their shower, whining and making small noises. “Do you have to leave so early? I thought you said— like— at eleven or something,” he whines, flopping down heavily on the couch with an exaggeratedly sad expression.

Eddie toes on his boots as quick as he can, words jumbling up in his brain as he scrambles for a response, his shoes being more obnoxious than they should. “I have— shit— it’s 10:30, and I’m going to take the train because driving’s a bitch—” he huffs, smiling in delight when he finally manages to tighten his laces correctly. Walking over to Richie, he drops a kiss onto his puckered lips, continuing with a hurried, “I’ll text you when I get there. I’ll probably be back right after, but if I don’t see you I love you and I’ll see you at five— don’t feed them—” he says, indicating the two dogs at his feet, seemingly ready to be taken out. He frowns sadly at them, bending down to scratch at their fur quickly, standing back up and continuing, “—but take them out because I didn’t—” he receives a groan in return, “—they need to be taken out, Richie,” he replies, leveling him with a weighty stare, all the while pulling on his hat and a scarf.

Richie groans. “I wish I could go.”

Eddie laughs softly at that. More than glad Richie has different hours this week, he smiles unapologetically at his husband. Pulling open the door, he blows Richie a kiss—that he halfheartedly catches— and steps out. He hears a shout of I love you! as the door clicks close behind him, and smiles to himself.

“So— I don’t get it. You’re asking me about babies, when Bev is the pregnant one.”

Eddie nods, stirring his coffee around absentmindedly with the little spoon in between his fingers. “Yeah.”

Ben nods along with him, but at a much slower pace. His eggs have been sitting on the table for the past ten minutes untouched. “Okay. But. Why… are you choosing me? Not that I can’t help, or anything like that. But wouldn’t the actually pregnant woman be better suited for this instead of her husband?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, huffing a small laugh. “Don’t sell yourself short. You can help more than you know,” he sighs, staring down into the half full cup. “I know it wouldn’t bother Bev if I asked her, but you offered and you’re good to talk to. I already talked about it to Stan, and it made me feel better, and I was going to go home and talk to Richie, and then I didn’t do it—“ he cuts off, trying to decrease the rambling, and shakes his head, “— anyway. I haven’t returned his calls.”

Stan has called twice in the past couple of hours, and Eddie does not really plan on calling him back until he gets a solution. It is childish of him, he’s acknowledged it more than once, but he really doesn’t want to hear that disappointed little lilt in Stan’s voice when he tells him he didn’t go through with it. So on to plan B.

Eddie shakes his head. This isn’t what he wanted to talk about. He takes a bite of his toast and chews slowly. “This isn’t what I wanted to talk about,” he states plainly.

Ben— sweet, perfect, understanding Ben— nods in a way that displays he won’t question it further. “Okay. So. Have you thought about how you want to have this child? Adoption, or surrogacy…” he trails off, making room for Eddie to input anything.

“Oh, adoption, definitely,” Eddie says nearly immediately, “unless Richie wants a surrogate, but I see him being fine with either.”

“And you’ve thought of all the sacrifices you’d have to make? Both of you? How much time that process takes?”

Eddie nods. “Yes, I thought of all of it, and I think I’m ready, Ben,” he says earnestly.

Ben’s hands reach over from their folded position in front of him towards Eddie’s, his fingers tangling through Eddie’s. “Well then what’s stopping you from taking this further?” He replies, seemingly just as earnest as Eddie.

“I’m just—“ he stops, taking a breath, trying to prepare himself for the words he has not wanted to admit. “I’m just scared,” he mumbles, finally.

“Of change?” Ben says, and holy shit. That’s also part of the problem.

“I think so,” Eddie mumbles. “What the fuck?”

“It sounds like you’re procrastinating.”

“That makes it sound a lot better than it actually is.”

Ben laughs, squeezing Eddie’s hands. “How about this,” he says, still chuckling, “what if you tried to bring it up in an exciting way, like a surprise? Or—“

“What do you mean?” Eddie responds quickly, giving Ben a confused look.

“Like— if you made a knock knock joke about adoption, or gave him something to indicate kids, then that would lead into a conversation about kids. It gives you a lighter way in,” Ben supplies, promptly supplying Eddie with a perfect idea.

The lightbulb in Eddie’s head shines brighter as he practically squeals with how happy he is with this idea, squeezing Ben’s hands like he did to him. He leans in excitedly and explains to Ben the wonderful idea he supplied him with, quickly planning the unexpected trip to the mall he has to make right after their breakfast.

It’s Christmas Eve, and it’s been a little under a week since Eddie made his trip to the mall, and Richie completely decimates his plans in just one swift movement.

Richie is on the carpet in the living room, sitting in front of the television with Berry and Happy, and he’s playing with them, yapping away with both dogs happily, half paying attention to whatever program is on TV. Eddie is sitting at the dining table, replying to a few Happy Holidays! emails from his coworkers and not paying attention to the TV at all.

Richie doesn’t seem to notice, because randomly he says, “Wouldn’t it be funny if we did that, Eds?”

“Huh?” Eddie replies dazedly, looking up. He rubs at his eyes under his glasses, looking at Richie.

Richie isn’t looking at him, but at the TV instead. Modern Family is playing, and it’s the episode where Cam and Mitchell adopt a kid without telling anyone. He looks back at Eddie, laughing. “How crazy would that be?”

Eddie stares at the TV, and tears start running down his cheeks before he’s even aware he’s started crying. He kind of starts to laugh, but it comes out as a watery hiccup at first, and then he’s just laughing wetly. He shoves his glasses up and into his hair with one hand and sweeps at his eyes with the other.

“Wait— are you crying? Oh my God—“ Richie goes to stand up quickly, but Eddie beats him to it— still crying and laughing and incredulous.

“Stay—“ he hiccups, wiping at his eyes, but the tears keep flowing, “— stay there. Hold on,” he says, making his way to their Christmas tree next to the television set. He stops when he’s about to pass Richie, and bends down to kiss him on the forehead, more forceful than he intended, and his tears end up on Richie’s face, but his mind is not on that.

He crawls to their Christmas tree in a frenzied haze and searches under it for the Snoopy wrapping paper he used, and gasps then hiccups when he finds it. He turns around and crawls back over to Richie and places the gift in his lap, dog toy clenched in his hand seemingly forgotten. “Open it,” Eddie says, nodding to the present.

Richie just gives him a heavily perplexed and concerned look. “Eds, come on, what’s—“

Eddie shakes his head, still wiping tears from his face and sniffling. He laughs, ushering Richie to open the gift as Berry comes up to him and starts to lick at his cheeks. Laughing some more, he tries to pull her into his lap. He recalls Ben’s words from earlier, and his smile grows even wider. “You gave me an opening— and I’ve been so nervous for no reason— and there’s no use in waiting til’ tomorrow—“ he stutters out, laughing and hiccuping more at the look on Richie’s face, “— I know I look and sound crazy, but just open it. Please.”

“I’m gonna open it, but just so I don’t have to ride that roller coaster again,” Richie says, trying to make it light, and it works for Eddie, solely because Eddie is feeling hysterical.

Richie starts to unwrap the box, and frowns, presumably at the weight of it. When he’s done, he throws the wrapping paper aside, and starts to unbox the present. He squints at the inside of the box for what feels like an eternity.

Eddie stares, wide-eyed and heart thrumming, in anticipation, petting Berry unconsciously.

“You got me a candle?” Richie states. It almost sounds like a question, but could also be classified as a statement by the way his voice tilts at “candle”. It should be something Eddie finds funny, but he doesn’t feel like laughing anymore, waiting in anticipation for the conversation that is going to take place.

Eddie nods. Richie just looks at him. “Keep going!”

“Okay, okay! Geez Louise, Thelma, I’m going, I’m going,” Richie breathes out, pulling out the candle. He turns it around to read the label, and Eddie sees the exact moment he’s finished reading it. He reads it two more times, and his eyes go round. “Well, last time I checked— and it was pretty recently— you were unable to procreate, so maybe I need to do a double examination.”

Eddie hums, willing him to continue.

“Eddie.” Richie stares at him. He looks a little shaken, but not in a bad way, so Eddie counts that as a small victory. “What does ‘it’s a baby’ mean? I don’t want to guess and then get it wrong.” He turns the candle around so the label is facing Eddie, pointing to where Eddie taped over “it’s a boy!” to “it’s a baby!” and then shaking it pointedly. “Can’t have that destroying my academic record,” he chuckles, and Eddie realizes he’s nervous.

“Rich— honey—“ Eddie takes a deep breath, making direct eye contact with Richie, and with his heart in his throat, he breathes, “I want to start a family.”

Richie inhales sharply, to the point where Eddie can hear it, and he feels the need to clarify, “Not like— surrogacy. Unless that’s what you want, but I’d rather adopt, just for clarification. I don’t even know why I’m stressing over this, it’s just that it’s a big topic and Ben pointed out that it’s probably because of change and I just— oomf!”

Richie tackles him in a hug, kissing everywhere at his cheeks. “I love— you— so much—“ he says in between kisses, and with another kiss Eddie feels wetness on his face that he knows is not his; he stopped crying a few minutes ago, the hiccups dialing down to a minimum.

“Are you crying?” Eddie parrots incredulously. He feels the lump in his throat resurface slightly, and tries to look into Richie’s blurring face. “Richie, why are you crying, sweetie?”

Richie laughs wetly, and wipes at his eyes. He buries his face into Eddie’s hair. When he speaks, Eddie can feel it against his head. “I just— I want to have a kid, too, Eds. I don’t think you get how happy I am.”

“Oh,” Eddie says softly. Richie’s reaction had been very obvious, but Eddie likes having things spelled out for him, and this is one thing he’s been waiting for for a while.

He climbs onto Richie’s lap and wraps both arms around his torso. Richie’s snake their way around his waist, and they smile at each other, both bleary-eyed. “I think I can understand pretty well, dummy,” Eddie chuckles, giddy with relief.

Richie grins warmly at him, his smile the best thing Eddie has ever seen. “You think I’d say no? You’d make beautiful babies, Eds.”

Eddie frowns down at him. “I want to adopt, though.”

Richie shrugs, still smiling. “You’d make beautiful personalities, then.”

The lump re-emerges, and Eddie unwraps a hand from around him to shove at Richie’s shoulder. “Stop making me cry, with your dumb fucking lines,” he says with a broken laugh. He wraps both arms around Richie again and squeezes, leaning down to press his face into Richie’s neck. He stays silent for a moment, the need to soak up this moment burning a hole straight through his chest. “I’m so happy right now. It’s been so hard feeling like we’re not on the same page,” he murmurs softly.

He feels Richie nod, and then his hand is cradling the back of his head, rubbing gently up and down. “I want you to tell me things, Spaghetti.” He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t need to.

Eddie nods also. He stays silent, the sound of their breathing and the TV the only ones able to be heard. The sound of Mitchell’s voice from the TV makes Eddie recall back to just ten minutes ago when he was practically sweating with anxiety. He snickers, and when Richie pulls back to look at him, he laughs harder.

“Is this another… episode?” Richie says with a confused little smile, his hands sliding down until they’re resting at Eddie’s hips.

Eddie laughs, shaking his head. He smiles down at Richie, and tangles his own fingers in the back of Richie’s head, playing with the curls there. “It’s just funny how this whole situation happened.”

Richie laughs along with him, his head tilting back so he’s looking straight up at the ceiling. “Can’t wait to tell my mom— ‘well Ma, we decided to have a kid because Eddie had a breakdown over Modern Family’—“ he jokes, pitching his voice down low.

Eddie rolls his eyes, too deliriously happy to be upset over Richie’s word choice. “You really think you’re the funniest person on earth, huh?” He mutters, snickering and punching at Richie's shoulder again affectionately.

Richie leans up for a kiss. “Sure fucking am,” he mutters back with a smile, puckering up.

As he snuggles up to Richie on the floor, their dogs lounging around them, the TV playing softly in the background, their Christmas tree shining brightly in the corner, Eddie imagines this exact setting in ten years, telling their children exactly how the discussion to have them happened. He smiles, and he feels Richie smile against his head too.

Eddie knows they have a lot of technicalities to talk through, and a lot of late nights and a lot of attempts at patience ahead of them, but the fact that he gets to do it all with the love of his life makes the future result seem all the more appealing.