Idk if this his how you aks for a short story written by you but like, all the losers at a house party, Richie escaping to the kitchen to grab something to drink and sitting on the counter, Eddie (a little tipsy) finds him and comes really close (like between his legs and the height difference is gone caus Richie is sitting) so Richie has a gay panick and starts rambling and Eddie just shuts him up by whispering beep beep Richie and than giggling and kissing him?
I’ll tell you, the detail is much appreciated. ❤️
A slow, bluesy track carried from the other room. Bev was in charge of the music, and played nothing but good ol’ 90s tracks.
Richie couldn’t recognize this one, though.
Swaying to the melody, he cracked open a fresh can of pop. The fridge was full of purple cans; obviously, grape wasn’t good enough for the Derry crowd. Oh well. More for the trashmouth.
Hoisting himself onto the counter, he listened to the muffled music. The loudest thing wasn’t the bass or the girl’s vocals, but the tambourine he could practically see the lead singer hitting against her hip.
He was perfectly content in the moderate quite; the chatter and laughter was just a dull buzz.
The door separating him from the party - which flummoxed Richie initially, seeing as there was no handle or knob - swung open, and Eddie walked in. He and Stan bought plastic wine glasses, drinking their cheap beer from them and pretending to be fancier than Derry could ever dream.
“Just because you’re the designated dave, doesn’t mean you can’t have fun,” Eddie said, slowly approaching Richie. He usually at least left a foot of space between them, although both of them knew they wanted the distance closed. Neither of them were ever brave enough. Richie opened his mouth to make a smart comeback, but the words dried up in his throat as Eddie fit himself between his legs.
His breath smelled like alcohol and his root beer chapstick. Richie almost laughed, but the sound that came out was more of a sputter.
“I’m having fun. I’m having loads more fun than you are. Call the fun police cause I’m breaking the law, mister. Wee-woo, wee-woo,” he said. On the inside, he was screaming at himself: SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP! His mouth kept moving a mile a minute, however. “Besides, I’m not into beer. It tastes bad and won’t get you nearly as wasted as the top shelf stuff. You ever had a white russian? Those are delicious. I must’ve had about a million by now-”
Eddie clasped his hand over Richie’s mouth, promptly silencing him.
“Beep beep, Richie,” he whispered. Giggling at how red Richie’s face rapidly became, Eddie removed his hand. He licked his lips, his eyes trained on Richie’s - perfectly pink and full. Leaning in, he kissed him, just enough to leave them both wanting more.