Author's note: I'm so sorry again for the wait on this chapter. I took a bit of a break from this story and worked on something else for a while, and it was kind of hard getting back into this one. But here it is finally, and I hope you're still all doing well!

Warnings for an involved medical scene in this chapter, including the removal and aftercare of stitches. Please tread carefully!

Brave
Chapter 17 – Stitches

"Jesus Christ, Richie!"

"Yeah, move the fuck over," thirteen-year-old Richie muttered, trying his best to situate his legs on either side of Eddie in what he hoped was a casual way.

"It's a hammock!" Eddie yelled, using one of his feet to kick at Richie's leg. "There's nowhere to move, dickwad!"

"Your ten minutes are up!" Richie said, holding his comic book up in front of his face to let Eddie know the conversation was over. Eddie, however, could always be counted on.

"Fuck you!" Eddie muttered, this time kicking Richie's comic book out of his hand. It flew through the air to land on the dusty floor of the clubhouse.

"Hey!" Richie cried, frowning deeply and trying fruitlessly to reach for his comic book.

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "You never care about the ten-minute rule when it's your turn, so you're not allowed to use it now!"

Eddie's legs had settled over top of Richie's, his socked feet pressed into Richie's sides. Eddie had those stupid little red shorts of his on, and the summer-warmed skin of his calves was laying over top of Richie's thighs. Richie stretched out his right leg a little farther until his own socked foot was settled awkwardly underneath Eddie's back; it wasn't the most comfortable position in the world, but somehow, it was nice.

Uncrossing his arms, Eddie hesitated for just a split second before he laid his left hand over Richie's right knee. Tingles of sweat broke out over Richie's skin where they were touching, but he made absolutely no effort to move. Eddie stretched out, curling up his right arm behind his head. He settled back against the hammock, closing his eyes. A moment later, Richie thought he saw a demure smile bloom over Eddie's lips, and Richie felt his mouth go dry.

His comic book was suddenly the furthest thing from Richie's mind.


It was Friday morning and Richie awoke with a smile on his face, the ghost of his memory of fighting Eddie for the hammock still floating around in his brain. He curled in around Eddie's side, nuzzling Eddie's neck. "Morning," Richie mumbled, then he had to bite his lip to keep from saying soon-to-be fiancé.

"Mm, morning," Eddie said around a yawn. He stretched underneath the arm Richie had laying across his stomach. Then he turned his head and captured Richie's lips in a kiss.

"Are you ready to get your stitches out today?" Richie asked, rubbing his hand across Eddie's t-shirt, over his stomach and up towards his chest, covering the span of his scar.

"Fuck yeah," Eddie replied. "Let's get this shitshow on the road so we can get the hell out of this town once and for all."

"Well, I was thinking," Richie said, absentmindedly brushing his fingers over the center of Eddie's chest.

"That's dangerous."

"Fuck off," Richie said warmly, pressing a kiss into Eddie's neck. "But as long as your appointment goes okay and the doctor says you're fine to travel, we're leaving for New York tomorrow, right?"

"Mhm," Eddie hummed in response. "I'm more than ready to get my divorce filed and get to LA so we can start our life together."

A warm feeling exploded in Richie's chest and seemed to radiate out towards all his limbs. Richie moved his arm from Eddie's chest to reach for his hip instead. He pulled Eddie closer and repeated, "'Our life together.' That sounds nice."

Eddie sighed contentedly, burying his nose into Richie's dark curls. "So what were you thinking about?" Eddie asked when Richie didn't say anything more.

"Oh," Richie said, forcing his mind back to the topic at hand. "Well, considering it's our last night in Derry, I thought we should do something special tonight."

Eddie pulled away slightly, raising a questioning eyebrow at Richie. "Don't tell me you're getting all sentimental about this town now," Eddie said.

"No," Richie replied. "Not at all. It's just…where we met, and fell in love, and where we finally admitted our feelings for each other. That…kind of counts for something, doesn't it?"

This caused Eddie to smile. "Yeah, I suppose it does."

"And come on," Richie said, "wasn't our dinner the other night one of the best fucking times we've ever had here?"

"Considering a lot of our time here has been spent scared shitless and either running from or trying to kill a fucking demon," Eddie pointed out, "I don't know if that counts for a whole hell of a lot."

"So you don't want to have another romantic night with me before we leave?" Richie asked, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

"I didn't say that," Eddie disagreed. He suddenly grinned, then bit at his lower lip to try and stifle it a bit. "Actually, if you're promising me the same sort of night, then…yes, I'd love to. Because…it was one of the best nights I've had in a long time."

"Me too."

"I…never really had this before," Eddie said, sadness edging into his voice a bit. "Things with Myra happened so quickly and…" He broke off with a sigh. "I mean, this is happening quickly too, but…it's different. And it's okay."

"God, I hope so." Richie's thoughts went to the engagement ring he had ordered that he was supposed to pick up today, then he tried to swallow down the surge of panic at the suggestion that they were doing things too quickly.

"It is," Eddie said reassuringly, a smile evident in his voice. "You're not treating this as…a foregone conclusion, you know? Once Myra and I decided to get married, it was like all the romance suddenly died." Eddie paused for a moment, frowning deeply. "If it was ever really there in the first place. I'm not entirely sure. And perhaps that should have been my first clue that we were headed for disaster. But I've already agreed to move in with you and you're still…you're fucking courting me." Eddie laughed, an incredulous sound. "You're courting me. Of all the fucking people in the world."

"I love you," Richie said firmly, "and nothing about this is a foregone conclusion. I still have the urge to pinch myself when I wake up and find you sleeping next to me. I spent so long wanting this, but convincing myself at the same time that it would never happen. And here we are." Richie let out a breath of disbelief. "I will never stop feeling like the luckiest man on the face of the earth that you want me of all the fucking people in the world. So yeah, I'm going to court you. I'm going to court the fucking shit out of you, and you're going to get sick of it. And I'm still going to be courting you when we're eighty fucking years old."

Eddie snickered. "Eighty-year-old Richie Tozier waddling into the store with his walker to buy me presents and shit. I'd love to see that."

"Nah, I'm going to have one of those motorized scooters. But you will see that. If you let me."

Eddie sought out the hand that Richie had settled on his hip, wrapping his fingers around it. He brought Richie's hand up to his mouth, kissing his palm. "Always." He gripped Richie's hand in his then, rubbing his thumb along the back of it.

Richie pushed himself up on his elbow, smiling down at Eddie. "I'll love you forever, Eds. I know you have your doubts about that, but this is what I want. You are what I want. And I'll never stop reminding you of that fact if you need me to."

A smile spread across Eddie's features before he let go of Richie's hand. He then trailed his hand up Richie's arm, gripping his bicep. "I know," Eddie told him. "I'm starting to realize that. You're so patient with me and my fucked up ass, and…you don't know how much that means to me, Rich."

"Hey, I've waited for this for twenty-seven years," Richie said, grinning. "I'm an expert in patience by now."

Eddie ran his hand up over Richie's shoulder to the back of his neck. He pulled Richie down towards him and whispered, "I love you." He kissed Richie deeply, tangling his fingers in the curls at the back of Richie's neck.

"I love you," Richie whispered back against Eddie's lips.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Eddie asked, "So what did you have in mind for tonight?"

"That's for me to know and you to find out," Richie said, slowly disentangling himself from Eddie. "Want some breakfast?"

"Not even a hint?"

Richie shook his head as put on his glasses and reached for his sweatpants and shoes. "Nope."

"Are we having dinner again?"

"You'll see."

"Rich…"

"What?" Richie asked in the most innocent voice he could muster as he reached for their room key on the dresser.

Eddie sighed, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. "You know what? Nothing. Just…shut the fuck up and go get my breakfast."

Richie grinned, but that quickly faded when he turned around and saw Eddie struggling to get up off the bed. Richie was next to him in a second, wrapping an arm around Eddie's shoulders and supporting him as he got up.

"Coming down with me today?" Richie asked, staring down at Eddie. He tried to hide the small burst of panic that went through him, because he had certain things to discuss with Ben and Beverly that he obviously didn't want Eddie to be privy to.

"No, I have to take a piss," Eddie said. He pushed himself up on his tiptoes and gave Richie a quick kiss before turning on his heel and heading for the bathroom.

Richie bit at his lower lip for a second before he turned back to the dresser. He picked up his wallet from where he had left it the night before and withdrew a small slip of paper from it. He tucked this paper into the pocket on the front of his shirt before heading for the door.

"I'll be back," he called to Eddie before heading out into the hall.

Richie made his way down the steps and into the lounge of the Townhouse where Ben and Beverly were seated at the bar, having their customary breakfast.

"Just the people I wanted to see," Richie said, taking his usual seat next to Ben.

"Uh-oh," Ben mumbled around a sip of coffee. "I think he wants us to plan another romantic date night for him."

"You guys don't mind, do you?" Richie asked tentatively. "It's kind of hard for me to surprise Eddie without making up stupid lies about what I'm doing, and I don't like doing that. It kind of makes me feel guilty, even though there's really nothing to feel guilty about." Richie frowned deeply before he said, "And Eddie made me promise that I wouldn't lie to him about anything, so it makes me feel like shit when I do, even if it's for a good cause."

"Of course we'll help you," Beverly said, reaching across the bar to place a comforting hand on Richie's arm. "We had fun getting everything together, and apparently, you guys did too." She giggled, popping a piece of muffin in her mouth.

"Wait!" Richie cried while in the process of pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Were you watching us?!"

"Only for a minute," Beverly said, staring down at her own cup of coffee. "I wanted to know if our nice, romantic dinner worked, and it did."

"I told her to give you guys some privacy," Ben said.

"I did!" Beverly cried.

"Yeah, it worked," Richie said, rubbing at the back of neck as a warmth spread through his face. "But…it was really nice. We…talked about a lot of things, and…I think it made him realize that this isn't something I'm going to change my mind about. I know it's still going to be a while before he can work through all the distrust his mother instilled in him, but he doesn't seem as stressed out about as he did."

"So is tonight the big night?" Beverly asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Yeah, it is," Richie said, throwing a glance back over his shoulder at the stairs to make sure Eddie wasn't sneaking up on him again. "I'm taking Eddie to get his stitches out today, so if you guys could get the ring, it would be a huge help."

"Consider it done," Ben told him.

"Thank you so much." Richie reached into the pocket of his shirt, taking out the small slip of paper from his wallet. He unfolded it and laid it out on the counter, revealing it to be his receipt from Bubbles and Gems. "It's already paid for, so you just need to pick it up."

"God, it better be," Ben said as he picked up the receipt and put it in his own pocket. "I don't remember ever agreeing to pay for your fucking engagement ring."

Beverly asked, "Have you decided how and where you're going to do it?"

"Yeah, I have," Richie said. "Um, I wanted to do it at the Kissing Bridge at first, but the more and more I think about it, I've decided against it. It doesn't seem like such a great idea after what happened the last time we were there. I know those bastards are in jail now, but I don't want to risk anything like that happening again to spoil this for Eddie. But I've come up with a much better idea." Richie grinned, but then his expression grew a bit sheepish. "It's…just going to take some work, and I do need your help for that too."

No one said anything for a moment, which gave Richie enough time to start freaking out. "I know I'm going to owe you guys big time," he said in a rush. "I already owe you guys big time for the dinner the other night and I'm asking for more again-"

"Richie, it's fine," Ben said warmly, smiling. "We'd do anything for you and Eddie. You have to know that by now. Just don't ask us to kill another fucking demon clown again, because that's where we draw that line."

Richie huffed out a breath of laughter, taking a sip of his steaming coffee to try and break the tension he felt. "Yeah, I suppose I know that," he said, setting his coffee cup down on the bar. "I just feel like I'm asking for too much-"

"You're not," Beverly interrupted him gently. "Just let us know what you want us to do."

"Um," Richie said, biting at his bottom lip. He threw one last glance over his shoulder to make sure they were still alone. "Okay, listen. This is what I want to do."

Richie leaned over, speaking to Ben and Beverly in hushed tones just in the unlikely case that Eddie would wander down to breakfast again that morning. Because the little shit would have a fucking coronary if he knew that the three of them were having hushed conversations without him.


Two hours later, Richie and Eddie were sitting in the waiting room in the doctor's office, and Eddie was about to jump out of his own skin. He kept tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair and shaking his foot around uncontrollably. He hands instinctively kept going to his pockets, and Richie knew he was searching for his inhaler, which was sitting on top of their dresser at the inn; Eddie had stopped carrying it with him altogether a few days ago.

"Breathe, man," Richie said, placing a calming hand against the small of Eddie's back. Richie quickly glanced around the waiting room, checking to make sure that no one was watching his interaction with Eddie. No one was sparing them a second glance, and so what if they were? There was nothing wrong with simply offering his best friend a comforting hand.

"I'm just…fuck," Eddie grumbled, rubbing his hands nervously on the thighs of his jeans next. "What if he tells me it's all infected, and he can't take the stitches out, and we have to stay in this godforsaken town for who knows how long?"

"It'll be fine," Richie said, trying to hide his smile. "We just changed your bandages this morning and your scar looked good. It's not infected."

"But what if he still can't take the stitches out for whatever reason and we're going to have to stay here?" Eddie asked, glancing tentatively at Richie out of the corner of his eye.

"Then we'll stay here," Richie said. "Tell me, have you been having such a horrible time since you got out of the hospital?"

"No," Eddie replied. "You know I haven't. It's…it's been nice. You know I like being all domestic with you and shit. But…how much longer can you stay here?" Eddie faced Richie more fully, his eyes wide with worry. "Your manager's going to kill you if-"

"You let me worry about Jason," Richie cut him off gently. "He knows that I'm here helping take care of you after you nearly died. Believe me, you're way more important to me than my career."

"Rich…" Eddie began, but he was cut off again.

"Edward Kaspbrak?" a nurse called, sticking her head out from a door at the far end of the room.

Richie and Eddie were led back through a maze of hallways and into a small exam room. When they were left alone, Eddie sat up on the exam table, and Richie helped him pull his t-shirt off over his head. Eddie folded it neatly and placed it on the table next to him, resuming his habit of rubbing his hands up and down the thighs of his jeans.

Richie sat down in one of the chairs in the corner, trying to give Eddie the most reassuring smile possible.

A few moments later, after Eddie had already paced the room a couple times, the doctor finally joined them. He was an older gentleman with salt-and-pepper hair, and he was holding up a clipboard in front of him.

"Mr. Kaspbrak?" the doctor asked.

"Eddie," Eddie said. "Call me Eddie. Mr. Kaspbrak was my dad."

"He also answers to Eds or Eddie Spaghetti," Richie supplied from the corner.

This earned Richie a scathing glare from Eddie. Eddie looked like he was almost hurting himself with the effort to not curse Richie out in front of the doctor, but he finally settled on, "Shut up." Then he turned his gaze to the doctor and said, "Please don't call me that."

"Eddie," the doctor said around a small chuckle. "I'm Doctor Costa. You probably don't remember me, but I monitored your injury early on while you were in the hospital."

"Um," Eddie said, furrowing his brow in thought. "I don't…I don't remember a lot of things." He stopped, giving Richie a small smile.

Richie knew that the longer Eddie was out of the hospital, the hazier his time there became. What he mostly did remember was what happened between the two of them, but things relating to his injury and his treatment was mostly one big blur. Richie decided that was probably for the best.

"It's okay," the doctor said. "You were in a lot of pain and on a lot of meds." He set the clipboard down on the counter as he went to the sink in the opposite corner from Richie and began washing his hands. "How has your pain been?"

"Okay," Eddie replied, turning on the table slightly to look at the doctor over his shoulder. "I get twinges a lot, but nothing I would really call pain. I'm down to one pain pill a day at the most when it gets particularly bad, but somedays I go without entirely."

"Twinges are normal," Doctor Costa said, nodding and drying his hands on a disposable paper towel. "You'll probably be feeling them for a while as you continue to heal, but they should eventually get fewer and further between and then let up altogether. So you're still good on your pain meds?"

"Yeah," Eddie said. "I've only used ten, so I still have twenty left."

Richie smiled warmly, because leave it to his Eds to know exactly how many fucking pain meds he had left in a bottle.

"Great," the doctor said, pulling a pair of rubber gloves over his hands. "You could probably even switch to something over-the-counter soon if you're not having that much trouble. Ready for me to have a look?" he asked then, gesturing to Eddie's chest.

Eddie nodded, but then the doctor asked, "Is it all right that he stays?" He glanced at Richie, then back at Eddie.

"Yes," Eddie said, trying to contain the smile that threatened to overtake his features. "This is Richie, my best friend," Eddie told the doctor. "He's been helping me, so believe me, he's seen it."

Richie contained the urge to say something smart, mainly about how hard it was for him to witness something so horrific, but Eddie would never forgive him for it. It would hurt Eddie deeply if he thought those thoughts ever crossed Richie's mind, and it would probably be a cold day in hell before Eddie ever let Richie near him again. Not that Richie thought those things at all anyway, because he would have helped Eddie with his stitches a million times over, but Richie's mind sometimes came up with stupid things to say. In the end, Richie only gave Eddie a small smile in return.

The doctor nodded, coming around to Eddie's back and starting to remove the medical tape that held his bandages in place. Richie could see Eddie visibly tense up, his back going rigid and his eyes closing tightly. His hands gripped at the edge of the exam table, his knuckles going white. Richie wanted nothing more than to go to him, to lay a calming hand over Eddie's, but as far as the doctor was concerned, they were just friends. Friends didn't do those sorts of things, did they?

When the doctor had removed most of the bandages, he took a long hard look at the scar going down Eddie's back. Richie swallowed hard, because at first, he thought maybe the doctor saw something wrong. A moment later, the doctor stepped around to Eddie's front. He removed the rest of the bandages from Eddie's upper chest, then stared at the scar there as well.

Richie's heart felt like it lodged itself in his throat and he desperately tried to swallow the feeling away. He was ready to ask the doctor if something was wrong with Eddie's injury, because Jesus. Why was the doctor just standing and staring?

A moment later, the doctor disposed of Eddie's bandages in the garbage can before turning back to Eddie. "Your scar looks really good," the doctor finally said. "I mean, really good. You've obviously been taking great care of it, because it's healing really well."

Eddie shuddered a bit as he exhaled a long breath of air. He opened his eyes and looked down at his stitches quickly before turning to look at Richie once more. "Richie has," Eddie said. Richie could see him swallowing before he said, "Taken good care of it, I mean."

"You wouldn't believe some of the messes I see when people when people come to have their stitches removed," Doctor Costa said. "They neglect cleaning it like they should and they show up with all sorts of infections, then get upset when I tell them stitch removal will have to wait until we get the infection under control."

Eddie let out a small breath of laughter and said, "I'm a bit of a hypochondriac, so I would never let anything around me get infected if I can help it."

Richie snorted. "A bit of a hypochondriac?"

"Shut up," Eddie muttered, throwing yet another glare in Richie's direction.

"It's all right," the doctor said, reaching for a small pair of medical scissors on a tray next to the exam table. "I honestly can't believe you had a gaping wound in your chest just a couple weeks ago, because you're healing so well."

"So you're taking the stitches out?" Eddie asked, taking a deep breath.

The doctor nodded. "I'm taking them out."

Eddie let out his breath, closing his eyes in relief. "And, um…what about traveling?" he asked, opening his eyes again. "Richie and I have only been here visiting our childhood friends, and…we're anxious to get home."

"Where's home?"

"Um," Eddie stammered, "my home is in New York, but I don't plan on going back there for long. Just to pick up a few things and tie up some loose ends. Then Richie, um, has actually convinced me to come…visit LA with him. See how I like it."

This caused Richie to raise an eyebrow at Eddie, and all at once, he wasn't entirely sure if Eddie was being honest or if he was putting on a show for the doctor's benefit.

"I don't see why not," the doctor said. "As long as you continue to take care of it like you have been, and you find a doctor out there once you arrive in case anything happens, I'm giving you the all-clear."

Eddie took in a sharp gasp of air before letting it out slowly.

The doctor had made his way around towards Eddie's back again and said, "Turn towards Richie a bit."

Eddie did as he was told, his eyes settling across Richie. Richie smiled warmly at him, and Eddie returned it. Richie had the urge to get up and kiss him, because they were fucking going home. They would be back in LA in a few days' time, and Richie was never going to let Eddie go ever again.

"This may be a bit uncomfortable," the doctor said, reaching for the uppermost stitches on Eddie's back. "You'll feel some pressure and pulling."

Richie heard a faint metallic clipping sound as the doctor began to remove Eddie's stitches. Eddie sucked in a breath and made a face at the sensation.

"That feels weird," Eddie said.

"I know," the doctor said as he continued to work.

Doctor Costa slowly finished with Eddie's back, then repeated the process on Eddie's front. When he finished and disposed of the stitches, he reached for more supplies on the tray.

This was when Eddie fully seemed to realize that Richie was watching him, was watching the way the deep pink of the scar wound its way up his stomach and chest. Eddie bit at his lower lip, diverting his gaze across the room, and Richie really wasn't sure why. Like Eddie had told the doctor, Richie had already seen Eddie's scar more times than he could count, but maybe it was simply being exposed like this, sitting bare-chested for both Richie and the doctor to see. Richie wanted nothing more than to kiss him and tell him how beautiful he still thought Eddie was, but that would come later.

"Now, keep in mind that your scar isn't fully healed yet," the doctor said. "The skin is still weak and you're still prone to injuring it or splitting it open. You may resume light normal activity and exercising, but still no heavy lifting or strenuous activity for a period of seven weeks."

"I like to run," Eddie said. "Is that okay now?"

"Yes," the doctor replied, nodding. "Running is fine, but no lifting weights or yoga-type activities. The stretching could put undue pressure on your scar and cause further injuries."

"And definitely no sex," Richie said, and he wasn't sure what in the holy hell had possessed him to say that. It was just that Trashmouth part of his brain that always seemed to want him to get himself into trouble.

Eddie's eyes widened and all at once, a bright red blush sprung to life in his cheeks and stretched down his neck towards his chest. He glared at Richie again.

"Definitely no sex," the doctor said around a chuckle, like he wasn't at all phased by it.

All things considered, Richie supposed it wasn't the first time he had heard that, and it probably wouldn't be the last either.

Next, the doctor cleaned Eddie's scar with antiseptic and cotton balls just like Richie had been doing. When he was done with that, the doctor picked up a small spool of tape from the tray and another pair of scissors. "I'm going to apply small strips of medical tape to the scar over where the stiches were. This is just to provide your skin with some extra support while it continues to heal. Absolutely do not pick at or remove the tape. It will come loose and fall off on its own with four to five days."

Eddie nodded at the instructions as the doctor began to cut thin strips of the medical tape and apply them down Eddie's scars on his back and front.

"I'd like you to continue wearing the bandages around your chest for another week or so," the doctor said, picking up a roll of bandages from the tray next. "Again, this is just to give your skin some stability as it heals."

He began to wind the bandages around Eddie's chest again, and Eddie visibly relaxed as his scar was covered again. Although Eddie had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, and Richie was going to spend the rest of his life making sure he knew that.

Doctor Costa finally removed his gloves and disposed of those before leaning back against the sink to look at Eddie. He crossed his arms over his chest as he said, "It's okay to resume showers now, but still avoid soaking the scar in water. Continue cleaning the scar as you have been after every shower. I'll give you some more antiseptic and supplies for that. You can continue to use what you have left of the antibiotic ointment until that's gone. I'll also give you some vitamin E cream, and you can start using that in place of the ointment. It'll help to reduce the appearance of your scar. Now, keep in mind that it'll never be gone completely-"

"Yeah," Eddie whispered. He bit at his lower lip, staring down at his shoes which were dangling down towards the floor from his place on the exam table. "I'm trying to come to terms with that."

"It still looks really good considering the extent of your injuries," the doctor said.

"It really does," Richie chimed in.

"And it'll continue to improve as it heals," the doctor added. "Especially with the excellent care you've been giving it. Continue to monitor it and obviously, if it shows any signs of infections – if it swells, or turns red, or shows any signs of coming apart, or oozing of fluids – get to an emergency room as soon as possible. But I don't foresee that being a problem considering how well it's been healing. And please call my office if you have any questions. I can also get together some references for doctors in LA."

A half an hour later, Richie and Eddie were making their way across the parking lot to Richie's car. Eddie was holding the plastic bag the doctor gave him full of supplies, and he was fiddling nervously with the handles. He was twisting them around his fingers, then stretching them out and watching the material give around his fingertips.

"Hey," Richie said as he fell into step beside Eddie. "We're all ready to go tomorrow then. We're going to get the hell out of this town once and for all."

Eddie gave Richie a half-hearted smile before returning his attention to the bag in his hands.

"What's wrong?" Richie asked, just as they reached the car.

Eddie sighed heavily, letting the bag hang at his side and looking back towards the doctor's office. He leaned back against the passenger's side door of Richie's car. "I just…I know you said you don't care about the scar, but-"

"And I don't."

A smile quickly flitted across Eddie's lips. "I know. But…I do, okay? And I know it's never going to go away, but…I don't know." He frowned, staring down at the bag in his hand again. "Maybe I was hoping for the doctor to tell me I wouldn't be disfigured forever."

Richie's eyebrows knit together as he reached up a hand to cup Eddie's cheek. "You're not disfigured. You're fucking beautiful. And you're fucking brave as shit. And I fucking love you."

There was a faint glimmer in Eddie's eyes before he said, "I love you, Richie."

All at once, Richie leaned forward and kissed Eddie. It was only a passing thought in Richie's mind that people could possibly see them, and he honestly didn't care. What mattered to him in that moment was Eddie, and Richie wanted to reassure him that nothing about his feelings for him were going to change. Certainly not because of a scar that Eddie had sustained while trying to save him from the Deadlights.

"Richie," Eddie mumbled against his lips.

"Hm?"

"We're in public."

"Fuck the public," Richie said, finally pulling out of the kiss.

Eddie snickered, blushing red once again, although it was for an entirely different reason than before. A blush that Richie now knew reached down towards Eddie's chest when it got really intense. Richie filed that bit of information away for later.

"Anyway," Richie said, "what's this about you visiting LA to see how you like it?"

"Well, what did you want me to say?" Eddie asked in exasperation, his earlier discomfort forgotten. "'Yeah, Doc, we're going to be shacking up together'?"

Richie shrugged. "Maybe," he said, reaching for the door handle behind Eddie. Eddie stepped out of the way as Richie pulled the door open and said, "He didn't bat an eye at my sex question, so he probably assumed we're already getting it on."

"I can't believe you said that," Eddie said, slapping Richie lightly on his arm. "You're going to be the death of me."

"Yeah, you looked like you were ready to shit yourself." Richie helped Eddie into his seat before leaning in to kiss him again. "What a way to go though, huh? Death by Trashmouth."

Eddie rolled his eyes, pushing against Richie's chest. "Oh my god, get me the hell out of here."

"Want to stop by that sandwich shop around the corner?" Richie asked, grinning. "See if they have a gluten-free option?"

Eddie's expression softened and he said, "Yeah."

Richie closed the door and as he did so, he didn't miss the smile that had settled firmly across Eddie's lips.


When Richie and Eddie got back to the inn, Eddie immediately went to their bathroom to thoroughly wash his hands, because "doctors' offices and public restaurants are teeming with germs and bacteria!"

Richie used this opportunity to go down the hall to Ben and Beverly's room. Richie's heart was pounding unnaturally hard in his chest as they let him into their room and closed the door behind him.

"Did you get it?" Richie asked, glancing around the room.

Ben picked up a small cream-colored paper bag from where it sat on their bed, holding it up for Richie.

Richie swallowed the lump in his throat as he took the bag and reached for the small black velvet box inside. Setting the bag down on the dresser, Richie opened the box to see the silver and fire opal ring he had picked out just a few days before. He pulled it out of the box and checked the inside of the band to make sure the inscription he wanted was correct. R+E was engraved neatly into the platinum band with a small heart on the other side.

Richie's hands were shaking as he placed the band on the end of his index finger, watching as the silver and fire opal caught and reflected the light.

"Do you guys like it?" Richie asked shakily. God, why was he suddenly so nervous? "Do you think Eddie will like it? I had no idea what the fuck to get, and in hindsight, maybe I should have done some research first, but…this one seemed right."

"It's beautiful," Beverly said. "I'm sure he'll love it. And I imagine the meaning behind it will count for a lot more than the ring itself anyway."

"And everything else is ready to go," Ben said, grinning.

"Jesus, already?" Richie asked. Everything suddenly felt so very real to him – proposing to Eddie and moving to LA with him – and he almost felt like he was going to be sick again. At the same time, however, it wasn't a completely unpleasant feeling. It was certainly nothing like killing someone or almost getting the shit beat out of you by a bunch of homophobes. It was an excited sense of nervousness that had settled itself into Richie's stomach.

"Already," Ben said, nodding. "Just like you asked. Oh, and the lady at the shop told us to tell you 'good luck'."

"Oh, shit, fuck," Richie muttered, running his hand through his hair. "What if he hates the ring? What if he tells I'm out of my fucking mind? I mean, I know I am, but what if he tells me I need to hold my damn horses for a while?"

Beverly reached out a hand, laying it on his shoulder. "He's going to say yes," she told him. "And he's going to love the ring."

Richie took a moment to look down at the ring still sitting around his index finger. "Oh, god. I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Rich," Ben said, grinning. He stepped forward to place his hand on Richie's other shoulder. "Breathe. It's going to be fine. Eddie wants to marry you. You've already talked about this, remember?"

"I know, but fuck," Richie bit out. "What if he meant a long time in the future? What if he's not ready for this just yet? What if he wants to get his divorce finalized first?" Richie paused, all at once feeling like a deer caught in headlights. "I'm out of my goddamn mind."

"Well, we already knew that," Beverly giggled, "but we all still love you anyway. And Eddie really loves you."

"He's going to say yes," Ben added.

Richie's hands were still shaking and his palms had begun to sweat. He rubbed them on the legs of his jeans and tried desperately to quell the feeling of a million and one butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He suddenly wished he hadn't eaten two entire sandwiches for lunch, because they felt like a couple of bricks sitting in his stomach.

He leaned forward, wrapping one arm around Ben and the other around Beverly, because he wasn't entirely sure what else to do. He just wanted to feel some comfort from someone and to feel like he wasn't going to die of embarrassment if everything didn't go as planned tonight.

"Even if he tells me to fuck off," Richie said, his voice sounded a bit strangled, "I want you to know that I appreciate you. Thank you. For everything." He gripped Ben's shoulder especially tightly at these words, silently thanking Ben for being the first person (other than Eddie) that he came out to. For making it so fucking easy for Richie to be himself.

Ben seemed to understand, gripping Richie's back tightly. "Believe me," Ben said warmly, "if he hasn't told you to fuck off by now, he's not going to."

"Actually, he tells me that every single day," Richie said around a nervous laugh. "It's when he stops saying that that I have a reason to be scared shitless."

To be continued…

Author's note: Richie's proposal was supposed to be a part of this chapter, but in the end, I decided it was best to have it as its own thing rather than tacked onto the end of this. But it's coming next! What do you think Richie has planned?