open post;; yeah why's it so fuckin' funny dickwad?

[hypochondrias]

text/call/action ; open to losers and cross-canon! ; drop a starter or send me a prompt! ; specify era/age if you please

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when your life is arctic monkeys songs playing through a club bathroom door

[trashmouthing]

[ it's late in west coast time, close to midnight east coast time, when richie texts. ]

you up?

why’d you only call me when you’re high dot mp3

[hypochondrias]

[ in general, when it’s bedtime, that’s it. eddie's phone is on silent, screen dark, wake me only in case of actual emergencies, thanks. but something happened not too long ago that would upend his rigorous schedule and state of mind.

now whenever richie tozier texts him, eddie feels a thrill run through him in a way he thinks he’d left behind as a teenager. there’s a giddiness and excitement he’s come to relish that’s given him endless boosts of happiness throughout many a miserable work day. now whenever richie texts him, eddie gets a specific chime tone and buzz that’s set to go off at any hour. sleeping time included.

so when richie texts now at an hour approaching midnight, eddie is roused from a light sleep, eyes blinking as the text comes into focus and drips something warm through his gut. slowly he slides out of bed, successfully leaving his wife asleep, pads downstairs, and gets comfortable on the couch in the living room. ]

Why, you looking to get laid?

[ that one is typed with slightly quivering hands, but gets sent before he can second guess it. ]

[trashmouthing]

[ he's drunk before a double-digit hour thanks to dinner with a couple of the other guys he used to make the rounds with in his smaller-venue days; they'd had shots to celebrate richie releasing his writing team.

one of them brought somebody: they were a cute couple, sandy-haired couple of dudes who might have looked like brothers if richie took off his glasses. at the sight of them together richie felt this nagging itch behind his ribs. but he was cool about it, because he'd been cool for forty fucking years and wasn't gonna stop on a thursday night; he swallowed the itch before it could claw up his throat, said you look really happy, dude, lingered overlong at the restaurant afterwards with some scotch.

when he was younger he used to scratch that itch by getting hammered for an additional five hours and shoving his tongue in some twink's face in a bathroom stall. the older he got, the less that appealed. derry's changed him, though. now he wants that all over again but different. in a different light, a different view. on a different coast. ]

wouldn't you like to know

[hypochondrias]

[ eddie has absolutely no reason to suspect any motivation for richie's text beyond the usual. the regularity with which they communicate is something strange and exciting, a kind of addictive high he can sustain over hours and days and weeks. they’ve been like this since derry and there’s not a signal in sight that implies a slowdown any time soon.

at this point, eddie's not sure what he would do if they did dial it back. ]

Wouldn’t text back if I didn’t

[trashmouthing]

i only want to fuck on days ending in y kaspbrak
my career has made that very clear

[ the career of a fuckboy, and probably unattractively so. but his tongue feels loose in his head and he has eddie's attention, even though he knows eddie has an otherwise carefully structured bedtime. he'll soak him up while he can. ]

[hypochondrias]

[ Oh. Oh. So that text definitely has an effect. Surprising, but not unexpected, both in content (obviously Richie is as sex-obsessed as ever) but also in Eddie’s own reaction. He sucks in a breath and lays back on the couch, letting his knees fall open. Struggles with the way he wants to do something with this information.

i only want to fuck on days ending in y kaspbrak

Yeah, okay. If that doesn’t sear into Eddie's consciousness for the rest of the week. ]

So much success man and you still sound desperate as hell

[trashmouthing]

i am

[ for what, he can leave that up to the imagination. it's a dusky night in los angeles. if he actually did hook up tonight he's pretty sure whiskey dick would win out—not that he would. he hasn't put his hands on anyone else since derry, which is admirable given how fucking horny he is lately. if he thinks about it too long it feels promise ring trite, and then if he thinks about it even longer than that he knows he has a good reason.

so he's just on the couch, half-dressed, trying not to grind a hole in the sofa cushions thinking about the way eddie looks when he blushes. ]

distract me

[hypochondrias]

[ eddie aches somewhere deep, because richie doesn't deny being desperate and god, eddie sympathizes. he feels the blood rush south, his dick doing all the sympathizing for him, breathing irregular. ]

How am I supposed to do that?
It's midnight on a Friday and I'm not supposed to think about sex?

[trashmouthing]

[ that's not helpful. richie kind of wants to laugh, though, because it's also so very eddie. the two of them never know how to fucking tread softly around anything.

he shifts onto his back and scrubs a hand over his face, tilting his glasses askew. the room is spinning anyway and his thoughts are muddled. ]

people do other shit on fridays eds
or so i'm told

[hypochondrias]

[ for a long moment eddie really, actually considers this weird state of limbo he and richie have occupied since he'd woken up at derry home hospital. it's a place where they don't acknowledge a lot of things, like eddie's marriage, or what's really going on here between them. at times liberating, at times frustrating, eddie vacillates wildly between wanting to live in this limbo forever and also wanting to drive a stake right through the heart of it.

but being that it's midnight on a friday, he's leaning towards the former. ]

As a married man I can vouch for the fact that people do other shit
Not all of us can be the wild sexual being you are

[trashmouthing]

[ there are a million not very nice things richie could say to that and doesn't. he keeps his hand loosely on his face, gazing at his phone from between his fingers. his hard-on isn't going anywhere, but he can still try and text like a normal person. ]

what kind of being are you then eds
enlighten me

[hypochondrias]

[ now faced with the question, eddie pauses, searches. and finds he’s not sure what the answer is. leave it to a midnight conversation with richie to send eddie down a long, barely lit road of self reflection.

anyway, richie's obviously thinking of sex and what, eddie's supposed to ignore that? change the subject? fuck that. ]

Not really sure to be honest
But I’m starting to think I’m a pent up one

[trashmouthing]

pent up how

[ he likes goading him, a little. it's been harmless so far, and anyway making eddie think seems pivotal to them getting out of this mess in the first place.

he reaches down absently to rub the heel of his hand over his dick, which hasn't flagged much in his boxers. good thing he hadn't called—he's almost certain hearing eddie's voice would take this places he knows they're not ready to go. ]

[hypochondrias]

In a lot of ways

[ he’s known at least this about himself his entire life and he might as well put it in words. he’s got a feeling richie already knows this too, that maybe he just wants to hear eddie say it.

it’s just like them to keep doing this, for eddie to keep enabling and being openly receptive to having the same done to him in return. ]

With my feelings
My relationships
And about sex
There’s just a hell of a lot about sex that I can’t stop thinking about lately

[trashmouthing]

really
has this been going on for a long time

[ :) ]

[hypochondrias]

No
Yes maybe
I’m not really sure but it has gotten worse lately

[trashmouthing]

there are websites for that

[ look, richie can take the edge off. it's fine, this is fine. ]

[hypochondrias]

[ eddie, well aware of how hot his cheeks are burning from where this conversation is going, powers through. keep richie talking and maybe he’ll keep offering details about his sex life. ]

I never got into that
It’s just not the same as wanting to feel someone spooning your side in bed
Not even close

[trashmouthing]

[ then why the fuck are you even married, part of richie's brain wants to ask. he shoves that back for another time, pivots to here, now, the fact of those words on the screen. ]

i miss holding you

[hypochondrias]

You have no idea
I miss the way your arms feel around me
I wanna know what it feels like to hold you too

[trashmouthing]

there's a lot i want to know

[hypochondrias]

Yeah
Me too

[trashmouthing]

i'm thinking i'm gonna find out someday

[hypochondrias]

You wanna tell me more about that?

[ there’s a silent ‘please?’ tacked onto the end there. ]

[trashmouthing]

all the time