Prompt: "Bowl Full of Jelly"
Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Setting: Eddie has convinced Richie to be Santa for the local orphanage this year.
“This is fucking stupid,” Richie mutters.
Eddie nudges his arms further up and continues measuring, saying, “You’re the one who volunteered, dumbass.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve never seen your stupid puppy dog eyes. They’re like. Irresistible on a physiological level, Eds. Like some kinda magic bullshit.” Richie pauses, as Eddie gives him a different look altogether. “Oof, ouch. Okay, see, this is what I’m saying. You just dealt actual psychic damage to me with that glare-- Ow!”
“Oops, the tape slipped,” Eddie says flatly, as if he didn’t just pinch Richie’s arm with the force of a thousand crabs. He moves the measuring tape down to Richie’s hips, glaring when he tries to put his arms down. “Are you done complaining?”
“That depends, are you done being a bitch?”
This time, when Eddie goes to pinch his side, Richie is prepared and jerks away with an offended, “Stop that!”
“Fine,” Eddie says, then immediately follows through on the pinch when Richie relaxes.
“Fuckin ow, dude! I didn’t even say anything that time!”
“That was for the bitch comment, dipshit,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes. “And I doubt you can even feel it that much anyways.”
Richie pauses. “...What’s that supposed to mean?”
Eddie looks up from measuring his waist, frowning. “What do you mean, what does it mean?”
“Like, that was a hard pinch, why wouldn’t it hurt?” Richie asks. He’s not being a dick, for once, he’s actually confused.
Eddie narrows his eyes. “Did it hurt?”
“Well, no.”
His eyes squint further. “And you have no idea why that might be?”
“...You were being gentle because you love me?”
Eddie snorts incredulously instead of answering, which. Yeah, fair. Love has never stopped either of them before.
When Richie doesn’t offer up another reason, Eddie huffs. “Jesus, Rich, you really haven’t noticed?”
Clueless, Richie shakes his head. In response, Eddie sighs and his face does that thing where he tries not to look endeared by Richie’s antics. Or obliviousness, as is apparently the case here.
“Look, how wide was your waist the last time you bought yourself a pair of jeans?”
Richie blinks. “Uh, I don’t know. 34 maybe? Why?”
Eddie holds up the tape, thumb marking the spot he’d just measured. Richie squints at it, the numbers fuzzy despite him definitely not needing bifocals.
41. Huh.
“What does that have to do with--” Eddie raises his eyebrows expectantly, and the pieces click into place. “Oh. Shit, really?”
More gently this time, Eddie tweaks the flesh of Richie’s hip. And yeah, woah. There’s like, a lot there. Like enough to fill Eddie’s hand, and it’s all lined with stretch marks that range from pale white to angry red. Richie stares in bewilderment.
Wait, but if he has love handles that big then-- he turns his gaze to his belly, and stares. Half-disassociating, he brings both hands up to cup it, and sure enough the soft flesh fills his hands and then some.
“But it’s so big,” he murmurs, unwittingly.
Eddie huffs and says, “You’re an idiot of legendary status, Rich.”
That shakes him out of it. “Well, how the fuck was I supposed to know? You’re the one who always pushes seconds on me! And none of my clothes have gotten any tighter or anything--” Eddie quickly breaks eye contact as his ears turn deep red. “Oh my god. Oh Edward you snake! This is sabotage of the highest degree!”
“Beep beep, Richie,” Eddie grinds out, and Richie laughs in his face.
“Oh fuck no, buddy! You think I’m shutting up about this? About the fact that you’re feeding me up and buying new clothes behind my back so I wouldn’t notice? Eddie, my dear husband, love of my fucking life, I am never letting you live this down.”
“It’s not like that!” Eddie snaps, the flush spreading to his cheeks. “I just didn’t want you to think I didn’t like it or that you needed to lose it--”
“Well no, of course not, because you’re clearly a filthy fucking pervert.”
Apparently, this is when Eddie reaches his breaking point. He makes an infuriated sound deep in his throat, throws the measuring tape to the ground, and grabs Richie’s face to pull him in for a rough kiss.
“You keep fucking talking like that and I’m gonna have to remind you who’s boss,” Eddie growls, when they part.
Richie is stunned, and he’s pretty sure he’d be gaping if Eddie didn’t have such a firm grip on his chin. Luckily, talking has always been his primary motive, so it’s easy enough to egg Eddie on. “...You know, I've got a good start, but I think they meant someone a little bigger when they talked about Santa's bowl full of--”
He doesn’t get to finish the sentence before Eddie is pushing him towards the bed, obviously both annoyed and turned on.
Okay, yeah. Richie probably should’ve picked up on this whole thing sooner.
Which, y’know. Annoyed and turned on is Richie’s favorite version of Eddie.
He thinks he should probably avoid cracking an obvious joke about Eddie’s repressed mommy issues. At least for right now. Maybe later, after sex. And after dinner. If Eddie’s too mad, he might not make the cookies he’d promised for so-called Santa practice…
Sue him. He’s a stay in the moment kind of guy.
And in this moment, he’s about to get very, very lucky.
