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Summary
That's where they were now, Eddie was watching them put makeup on Richie covering up blemishes that he loved, personally. And he almost said something, but it was Hollywood. And Richie knew that he preferred him the way he was. Even in his holey pajama t-shirts, and ruined socks that he wouldn't throw away-"How do I look, Eds?" Richie chimed, chair spun around to face him.He was wearing a fucking suit that rivaled the one Eddie forced him to wear on their wedding day (he did let him choose a bowtie though, it was Richie's wedding too). But it was fucking tailored to him, broad fucking shoulders and shit. Eddie was allowed to think his husband was hot, but he wasn't going to say it here.Tapping the wheels of his chair, he scanned over him."Like a painted whore," Eddie commented -plainly.Or Eddie deals with publicly being Richie Tozier's husband.
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