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i want your dreary mondays

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“You’ve got this, Tozier.” Richie told himself, patting down the lapel of his rented three-piece suit. His reflection stared back at him, hair looking okay for once, his glasses unusually clean.

He felt his heart on his throat and tried to shake himself out of his nerves, but Richie’s concentration barely lasted three seconds before Eddie was barging into the room like a wayward fucking tornado,

“Asshole,” Eddie called, “What the fuck is taking so long? Are you having cold feet?”

Richie blinked at him. “You were not supposed to fucking see me, idiot.”

“I see you everyday,” Eddie said. “If that hasn't changed my mind yet, nothing else will. Now can you hurry up? Everyone’s outside already.”

Everyone meant more like Ben and Beverly, as well as Bill, Mike, and Mike’s new girlfriend, who everyone had been a little startled to noticed looked distinctly famous, though none of them could have really placed her. It was not their fault they had no one else to invite, honestly, and Bev had insisted that it was fine. Both of them had piece-of-shit parents. Though the losers were sick to death of knowing it, Richie still felt weirdly self-conscious and prickly about it.

He sighed, “Are you sure it’s too late for us to hire fake parents?”

“It really fucking is,” Eddie told him, “You do know the fucking minister is gonna drop our asses if we take longer than we paid him for, right?”

“He’s probably not even a minister,” Richie scoffed, “And I’m not having cold feet, I’m just. I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

Eddie snorted, “So’s everything else you say, but that’s never stopped you before.”

“Thanks,” Richie. “You’re a great husband.”

“We’re not married yet,” Eddie huffed, “And we’re not fucking going to be unless you hurry this shit up.”

“Do I look okay?”

“Since when do you care?”

Jesus.

“Yeah, Richie, you look like the fucking love of my life. Now can we go?”

“Hold on a second.” Richie asked, so Eddie threw himself down onto one of the ugly bright pink leather chairs that Richie had spent ten minutes side-eyeing when he first walked in.

“I’m holding,” said Eddie, making a show of checking his bare wrist, like an asshole, “Still holding–”

“I got it, thanks.” Richie breathed, “Do you think we’re stupid for doing this here? Shouldn’t we have like, a huge fucking party or something?”

“You’re the one who wanted to come to fucking Vegas, Rich.” Eddie pointed out, “Besides, who the fuck else would we invite?”

“You’re friends with your boss.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, “I’m really not.”

“I’m friends with my boss.”

“Congratulations,” Eddie told him, “Do you want to give him a call?”

“Just us is fine. It is, right? You’re not–”

“I’m pretty sure I’ve said like, three hundred fucking times by now, but no, I’m not. I’m okay with your Vegas idea, hence why I fucking said yes when you asked me about it. Ten different times.”

“Dude, you’ve got zero room to talk about being overzealous.” Richie told him, “Get the shit off your high horse.”

Eddie rubbed a hand across his face, scratching at his scar, “You know how I said I was okay? Getting less okay by the second.”

“Fucking fine.” Richie stated, turning back to face his own reflection. He watched Eddie watch his ass through the mirror, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “Okay, I’m good.”

Finally.

The chapel was tiny. Richie wasn’t even sure it was a real chapel, except that it seemed to have all the necessary components, and Mike had given the black Jesus statue that stood behind the desk a funny little nod when he walked in, so it was probably fine. It wasn’t glamorous, or fancy, or any of the words Richie usually associated with weddings, but it was his. And Eddie’s. That was the most important part, Richie figured, glancing at Eddie as he listened to the wedding officiant blabber on about the fucking power of two souls or whatever.

The thing was that Eddie looked radiant. His black suit fit him better than Richie’s did, and his lips kept twitching as though he was amused by the minister’s speech. Richie turned his head further, watching his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, his lips. It hit him, then, again and again as he watched Eddie bounce forward slightly on the balls of his feet, that he was about to get married to Eddie.

Eddie Kaspbrak. Infuriating, anal retentive, terrible-with-words, took-two-showers-a-day Eddie Kaspbrak. The very same one who had fought a killer clown and won, who had held his bloodied hands to Richie’s and never quite finished his sentence all those years ago. Who had fallen asleep beside him on Bill’s floor too many times to count, let Richie copy his homework, watched the idiotic comedy films Bill had never had patience for but that Richie had always been obsessed with. Who had, all along, shared this terrifying secret with Richie, the one that had brought them both here, standing next to each other in too-expensive suits as they listened to a terrible fucking speech and prepared to own up, in front of everyone who mattered, to the one truth they had all known all along. Richie was in love with Eddie, just as much now as he always had been, and Eddie felt the same.

Richie turned his face to look at him, unable to control his manic grinning. He heard Ben snort when the minister’s speech trailed off awkwardly, and less than a second later he was pulling Eddie into a kiss, too deep and inappropriate to be happening in front of their friends, but he pushed through nonetheless, pressing forward until Eddie shoved him back with a confused frown.

“It’s not time yet, dipshit.” Eddie complained, putting a hand up when Richie attempted to lean back into him. “I’m going to kill you,”

Richie clucked his tongue at him, “Where’s your sense of romance?

“It’s gonna be up your ass if you don’t shut the fuck up and let him finish this.” Eddie threatened, to the background noise of Ben’s cackle. Richie glanced back, offering them a thumbs up that only Bill returned.

“Fine,” Richie said, taking one step away from Eddie and turning back to the officiant, “Sorry, dude, uh. Go ahead.”

“No problem, I guess,” the guy said, “Uh, love is the connection between two twin souls–”

Richie had spaced out already, though, sneaking glances at Eddie impatiently and wishing he could take his hand.

“Sorry, just–” Eddie interrupted, sounding annoyed. He glared at Richie, “Could you pay attention?”

“I am.”

“To him, asshole.”

Richie huffed, “I’m not marrying him. Uh, no offense, dude.”

“None taken,” the guy raised his hands, “I can skip straight to the main event if you want.”

Yes,” Richie said, just as Eddie said,

“No.”

Behind them, Ben snickered again, and Eddie glanced at him with narrowed eyes before turning back to Richie.

“Come on,” Richie said, “You were totally fucking laughing at the speech until one second ago.”

“I was not.”

Richie squinted, “You totally fucking were, don’t give me that shit.”

“I can’t believe I’m marrying you.” Eddie said, looking up at the ceiling. “Like, what is this. How can you of all people be the love of my life? Cosmic joke.”

“Cosmic joke?” Richie asked, “Who are you? Mike?”

“Hey–”

Richie grinned back at him, “Love you, dude.”

“Okay,” Eddie paused, “You don’t like his speech? You give me a speech then.”

“You–what?”

“Do the speech yourself,” Eddie said, lifting his chin in a way that meant he had chosen that specific hill to park his donkey and fucking die on.

“For fuck’s sake,” Richie muttered. At Eddie’s eyebrow raise, he added, “Eddie Kaspbrak, I– uh.”

No one said anything, and the chapel was blessedly silent except for Ben’s loud snickering, that Richie shot a glare at before taking a deep breath and deciding to give it his best shot.

“I fell in love with you when we were nine and you tripped into that one trash can behind the school,” Richie said, “And I spent every second of my childhood years dreaming of putting my hand down your shorts, even though I talked about titties all the time.”

From the audience, Bill groaned, but Richie didn’t look at him.

“You are the most infuriating person I have ever met, you have always been, but there is not a single fucking person on this planet than I like more than I like you, and I wouldn’t trade our fucking arguments for the world. I wouldn’t trade any of, you know, It, because every second I got to spend with you was worth the fucking nightmare we’ve been through. You are insufferable, and you’re bossy, you’re loud, you’re a real fucking blanket-hogger, too, but you’re my best friend. You’re my, uh, you’re my favorite person. And every day I wake up hoping that I’m yours too.”

“Richie,” Eddie started.

“I love you, Eddie Kaspbrak, and I always fucking will.” Richie finished, before glancing at the minister, “There you go, you can do your thing–”

Except he didn’t get to finish, not at all, not with Eddie pulling him in by the lapels and pressing their lips together in the sort of kiss that made Richie feel almost out of sorts.

He heard Bill whistle, and Bev laugh, Mike and Ben yelling something he couldn’t make out. Richie didn’t turn, though. He kept Eddie close, breathing him in while the minister finished his officiating. On an exhale, he said, “I do,” and Eddie said it, too, warm against Richie’s lips.

Just like that, they were married. It hadn’t been fancy, really, or much like any other wedding Richie had ever been to.

But it had been theirs.