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When the guy comes in, he looks familiar. That’s Richie’s first thought.
Well, okay, fuck, maybe it isn’t, because the guy is compact but with obvious lean muscle and these big brown eyes and he has on a pretty nice suit.
Bev finds him literally leaning on the counter with his head resting on his arms, staring. She elbows him in the shoulder so hard he nearly falls, and he turns to glare at her, pushing his glasses back up. “Beverly, can’t a man embarrass himself in his own place of business?”
“You can stare when you’re on break, Rich. Unless you wanted Norma to see you?”
“She’d probably just make fun of me.”
“Lovingly so, but yes. Why don’t you go and see if he wants coffee or something?” Then Bev looks back over, pauses, and does a double take. “Is that Eddie Kaspbrak?”
That’s where the looking familiar comes in. Richie follows Bev’s gaze - first mistake, because now they’re both just gawking at him, but it definitely is Eddie Kaspbrak. The whole reason Richie has a thing for big brown eyes, sitting right there in the flesh.
The last time Richie had seen him, they’d both still been going to Twin Peaks High.
“Do you think he’s here because of what happened with Georgie?” Bev whispers.
“Well I don’t think he’s here to see us-” Richie starts.
“Excuse me?” Eddie says, not too loudly, because the Double R is a small place - but he’s obviously trying to get their attention. “Could I get a - oh.”
Obviously, he’s figured it out.
Eddie sits there, wide-eyed, and Richie just waves at him. “Heya, Eds.”
“Hi.” Eddie says.
They both just sit and stand there, sort of frozen, until Bev clears her throat. “So you want a coffee, Eddie?”
“Oh!” Eddie turns and looks at her too, then, and looks even more embarrassed. “Bev. Hi. Sorry. I- Coffee would be good. If you have coffee. I think I could use some coffee.”
Richie grabs a mug and pours the coffee for him, taking it over to his table in short order. He sits down in the booth, across from Eddie and slides the mug over. “So what brings you back to town, hot stuff?”
“Jesus,” Eddie says, grabbing at the coffee like it’s something stronger. He lifts it and takes a sip while it should still be too hot - but he just winces and powers through. He drinks it black - of course he does. “Isn’t it a little early to start with all that?”
“Well I’ve been up since like, 3 AM, so it’s practically afternoon for me.”
“Rich,” Eddie says, in that same old familiar concerned way, that same old frown falling into place.
Richie just shrugs. “Hey, I work in a diner. What about you? Are you here cause of-”
Eddie’s frown deepens. “I think technically I’m not supposed to tell you but I- When I heard it was Georgie that they found wandering over the state line, I volunteered. I think if anyone knew how much I know it’d be a conflict of interest, but it’s - what matters is I’m here.”
It’s a surprise to hear that Eddie did come back voluntarily. For Bill and Georgie more than anyone else, of course, but - still. He’s back. “Yeah. It’s good. Have you talked to Bill?”
Eddie sighs and takes another sip of his coffee. “Yeah. Just once, and not for long. He was sort of haunting the hospital, and he’s been bugging the shit out of Mike - he’s the Agent proper they sent with me. This whole thing is a mess.”
“Mike Hanlon, right?” Richie asks.
Eddie nods, obviously surprised.
“He came in here yesterday for coffee and pie. He seems nice, if a little - weirdly mystical.”
That makes Eddie snort. “Yeah. He’s a good guy. He’s smart, too - he’s a good agent. He’ll figure out what happened here. There’s not a lot to know from the body but what there is - it really isn’t good. I knew this place was fucked up when we grew up here but it’s - I don’t think I really realized how much my mom really did manage to shelter me from.”
Richie reaches out, and places his hand over Eddie’s. He expects Eddie to pull back, to wince away, to chastise - that’s probably what he would have done in high school. Now, though, Eddie just sighs and turns his hand over and squeezes at Richie’s hand.
“I’m sorry, Rich. For- a lot of shit.”
Caught staring down at their hands, Richie just shakes his head. “You don’t have to be sorry-”
“I kind of do. I’m not gonna drag it all out in the middle of the Double R when you’re supposed to be working, but - I think I have a lot to be sorry for. I think we should probably talk.”
Richie nods, and squeezes Eddie’s hand one more time before he pulls back and looks around. The only person still watching them is Bev, and she turns her head out of courtesy.
“Meet me at the Roadhouse tonight? Eight o’clock?”
“Eight o’clock,” Eddie tells him with a nod.
Finally, Richie drags himself away and goes back behind the counter. He starts to tidy up some of the plates and mugs left on the bar, and when he looks back over to the booth, Eddie is gone, only an empty mug and a tip left behind.
Bev shoots him a sympathetic look, but he just smiles at her and shrugs. For that moment, for some reason, he’s not worried. It seems like Eddie meant what he said - the only way to know will be if he shows up at the Roadhouse.
The place is as crowded as ever when Richie gets there half an hour early.
He’s changed out of his uniform for something a little less pastel and obvious, his old leather jacket that he’s definitely had since before Eddie left town.
The music is loud, and the place smells like shitty beer and cigarette smoke, just like it always has. Richie sits down at an empty booth with his hands still shoved in his pockets, not sure how long he’ll have to wait before Eddie will show up - or before he just decides to give up and go home.
As it turns out, Eddie’s right on time. Eight on the dot - ridiculously punctual.
He looks awkward and a little out of place at the Roadhouse - he’d never set foot in the place in high school. Now there he is, in a flannel shirt, trying not to stand out even though he so clearly does.
Richie waves at him, and Eddie sags with obvious relief as he slides into the booth.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” Eddie says.
“I could say the same to you.”
Eddie sighs, and scrapes his thumb against the wood table in between them, fidgeting. “That’s fair. Part of me didn’t want to, because I really don’t want to talk about this, but I owed it to you. If you stood me up, that was fair, but if I didn’t show - I just would have felt like shit.”
“You know I’m not actually mad at you, right?” Richie asks.
That earns him a startled blink. “What?”
“Eddie. Your mom made you move. She practically dragged you out. I’m a little upset you never - called or wrote or anything, but I get it. I’m not fucking mad at you, man. And I feel like you’re not just here cause you feel guilty or whatever, but if you are, you can go. It’s okay. I’m not mad at you for leaving, after everything that happened.”
A shadow crosses Eddie’s expression. “Bowers broke my arm. It wasn’t - she overreacted.”
“Well of fucking course she overreacted, but Bowers broke your fucking arm . It scared the shit out of me, too. We knew - I guess we all always knew he sort of meant it when he threatened to kill us. But that was the first time we ever saw it like that.”
Crossing his arms, Eddie leans back, shrinking into a smaller, defensive kind of stance. “I just thought if you guys didn’t know where I went or what happened, if he asked, he couldn’t - for some reason I thought it was me. At the time. But obviously that was stupid, and the more time went on, the more I felt like an asshole for not calling and I just. I wanted to keep all of you safe and then I realized I couldn’t really do anything about that, but it was too late.”
“Hey,” Richie tells him, reaching for his hand again. “It’s still not too late.”
Hesitantly, Eddie places one hand on the table, and lets Richie take it. “It’s not, huh?”
“Not for me,” Richie promises.
They sit there like that, holding hands in the hum of the bar, until there’s a crash on the other side of the room.
Both of them jump, but when they look over, they realize it was just a barstool, and some kind of shitty fight is breaking out over something completely different. Some macho bullshit or an asshole who doesn’t wanna pay his tab, probably.
Richie turns back to Eddie. “You wanna get out of here? I’ve got a place - it’s not much, but we could hang out. Catch up. Bev’s gonna be out for the night.”
“You guys live together?” Eddie asks, sidestepping the question as he stands from the booth.
“Just til she and Ben move in together.”
That makes Eddie smile, big and happy. “They’re still together, huh? I’m happy for them.”
“Oh they almost weren’t. Tom almost fucked it up for everybody.”
“God, fuck, Tom. What happened to him?”
“He’s in jail, thank fuck. Hopefully for good, but I guess we’ll see.”
Eddie nods, and Richie walks beside him, hands in his pockets again.
“So you wanna come back to my place?”
“Can you give me a ride?”
Richie raises his eyebrows.
“Mike drove me down here, he’s having a stakeout out front. Some tip about something going down here tonight, I don’t know what. I think he can handle it without me, but it means I need a ride.”
“Sure, then, Eddie Spaghetti.”
Eddie groans as he pushes the door open and steps outside, and Richie grins while he knows Eddie can’t see him. God how he’d missed this.
When they step outside, Richie gets ready to lead Eddie to his ride so they can head home, but he spies a police cruiser with two figures inside, not just one. It’s hard to squint through the headlights, but it looks like Mike Hanlon - with Bill sitting next to him.
“Is that Bill in there with Agent Hanlon?”
Eddie squints over, then shrugs and wraps his arms around himself. “I don’t know Richie. Can we get the fuck out of here? It’s cold.” Then, shivering, he frowns. “Wait, Bill didn’t mention he was a police officer.”
“He’s not,” Richie says. “He’s still working at the hotel while he waits to get published. He just keeps begging Ben to let him help out.”
They both stand there for a moment, watching the car, like something will happen that will give them the answers they’re looking for. Instead, the quiet of the night just rises up around them, and the neon sign over the Roadhouse flickers ominously.
“I guess we should head out before anything does happen,” Richie says.
Eddie nods.
With that, Richie leads them both over towards the rack of motorcycles right by the entrance.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie says.
“What?” Richie asks with a grin.
“There’s no fucking way I’m getting on one of those things - are you fucking serious? They’re a deathtrap! And what kind of fucking stereotype are you anyways, with that leather jacket, a fucking motorcycle, I cannot believe I leave you here and you-”
Eventually, as Eddie rants on, Richie breaks, and doubles over laughing.
It takes another moment before Eddie catches on and glares at him. “Oh you are such an asshole.”
“Eds, come on! Are you shitting me? You thought I’d actually own a motorcycle? I’d crash it in like a minute flat, I’m not coordinated enough for that shit. We’re lucky Norma lets me carry two plates at once. Come on, I parked around the side.”
They make their way over to Richie’s shitty old truck - again, the same one he’s had since high school, and Eddie quirks a little grin as he catches sight of it. They both climb in, and there’s a moment of silence before the commotion starts up.
A motorcycle goes tearing out of the parking lot, where they’d just been standing moments before, and the police cruiser goes after it with the siren blaring.
Richie watches it all happen, and then looks over to Eddie who looks surprised, too.
“Well shit,” Richie says.
“Yeah, I uh - I mean if there’s no dead body involved I’m staying out of it. And Mike can probably get in touch with me tomorrow if he needs my help.”
“Right,” Richie says, but he sounds unconvinced even to his own ears.
He drives to his place without trying to talk about anything, still a little spooked by how quickly everything wrong with this town has been brought back to the surface - like all it needed was one little push and now everything’s going to hell.
Then again, at least Eddie’s back.
When they make it to Richie’s apartment, he stops in front of the building, idling there. “So are you still gonna come in?” he asks. “Or would you rather I take you back to the hotel?”
Eddie taps his fingers against his legs and shakes his head. “No. I don’t want to go back up there tonight. Mike can leave me a message but I don’t - I really don’t want to be by myself. And I don’t want to leave you here alone, either.”
“Still so sweet, Eds,” Richie says.
Eddie reaches out then, and grabs his wrist.
Richie pauses where he was going to turn off the car, and turns to face Eddie.
They’re close, there on the bench seat of the pickup. Eddie’s eyes shine in the dim light. “You can’t just keep fucking around like that now that we’re actual adults, Richie. People are gonna get the wrong idea.”
Richie scoffs. “Says the guy that held my hand in the Roadhouse?”
“That’s not-” Eddie lets go, but he doesn’t pull back or put any space between them. “That wasn’t a joke. I can tell when it’s a fucking joke to you. It was my own stupidity that got Bowers’ attention, but don’t - don’t fuck around and put yourself in danger for a laugh.”
“It’s not a joke,” Richie says, but it comes out weaker than he meant. Because he’s tried - over and over again he’s tried to make the whole thing a joke because it makes it easier. Easier while Bowers is still in town, practically peeking over his fucking shoulder, and Eddie was the one that had to leave.
“Just be honest with me, Richie.”
“Okay,” Richie says, and then he reaches out, places his hands on Eddie’s face, and pulls him into a kiss, like an idiot.
Almost immediately, Eddie puts his hands on Richie’s chest and pushes him back. “What- Richie?”
“You said be honest-”
“That’s not what I- Oh, fuck it,”
And then his hand on Richie’s chest is fisted in the material of Richie’s jacket, and he’s tugging Richie back in for another kiss.
Richie’s glasses press awkwardly against his face, held there at a strange angle, but he can barely notice because Eddie is kissing him. They’re both pulling back just to breathe, then pressing close again, trading long, lingering kisses that get slower and slower each time, each one less frantic.
Slowly, even while they’re making out like teenagers in Richie’s truck, they realize that no one’s going to interrupt them - no one’s going to come yank them apart.
This is really happening.
Eventually, Eddie pulls back, but Richie just places his hands on the back of Eddie’s neck and holds him close, their foreheads pressed together. “I told you I wasn’t joking.”
Eddie laughs at that - really laughs, snorting and curling in on himself, bursting into helpless giggles. His head falls onto Richie’s shoulder, and Richie just holds him there, happier than he’s been in years, full to bursting with it.
“You’re still such an asshole,” Eddie gasps out between laughs. “I hate you so much.”
“No you don’t, Eds.”
“Yeah, no, I don’t.” Eddie’s laughter calms down, then, and he lifts his head and smiles at Richie. “You’re still an asshole, though.”
“Takes one to know one, Eddie Spaghetti.”
“I’m gonna kill you someday,” Eddie tells him, and Richie just leans in and kisses Eddie on the cheek.
With both of them still recovering from their kiss, they climb out of the truck and make their way inside, stealing glances. Eddie’s hair is all mussed, and his mouth is bright pink - probably from Richie’s stubble.
Richie takes one hand out of his pocket and bumps it against Eddie’s hand intentionally as he lets them both inside.
They’re still in the hallway of the building when they hear the phone ringing.
They rush into Richie’s apartment and Richie unlocks the door to let them both in, leaving Eddie in the foyer as he hurries over to answer.
“Hey! Hello?”
“Richie - is Eddie with you?”
It’s Bill.
“Yeah, he’s right here. Why?” Richie asks. Eddie comes over, leaning close.
“Look, we just found - you know the body had a hand missing? Mike and I just found it by the s-s-sewer. Things just got a lot more complicated.”
“Shit,” Richie says, and he can tell from the look on Eddie’s face that he could hear what Bill said on the other end of the phone.
Things have definitely gotten a lot more complicated.
Eddie reaches out, though, and takes Richie’s hand, and squeezes it tightly.
Whatever happens now - they’re in it together.