#prior.fic
Text
pop culture chapter 8
“Adulthood in a town like Derry is even worse than childhood. The listless, empty ramblings of days dragging on in a town that felt like one-size-too-small-shoes sat heavier on the recently graduated than the younger children. Before you were eighteen and responsible for your own lunch money, you could spend your interminable afternoons exploring the surrounding environment, friends of friends abound. Escaping to the arcade and seeing the same films six times at the same theater was an acceptable amount of nothing to do at twelve years old. But when nineteen years hit Bill Denbrough and college acceptance letters didn’t, the sudden, overwhelming, nothingness of Nowhere, Maine became too heavy to bear.”
chapter 8 (wc: 4k)
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“Someone’s knockin at yer back door, Stanny.”
“Couldn’t kill you to answer it?”
“Not my house.”
“Well you’re not getting any of my pizza, then.” Stan griped as he marked his place and set down his novel before crossing the room.
“Wait, you ordered pizza?!” Richie extracted himself from his position on Stan’s bed, where he had been reading comics upside down.
“You’d know if you got the door.” Stan called over his shoulder as he descended the stairs. Another knock rang through the empty house.
“Coming dear!” Richie yelled with a ridiculous trill as he attempted to slide down the bannister.
“Don’t break yourself. I don’t want your blood on my carpet.” Stan yanked Richie’s sleeve, returning the wily boy to his feet.
“Buzzkill.” Richie muttered, crossing his arms as he followed Stan sullenly.
“Reason you’re still alive?” Stan quirked an eyebrow, walking backwards with a finger pointed at himself.
“Touche, douche.” Richie rhymed under his breath as they crossed the kitchen.
“Heard that.” Stan commented as he opened the door.
“Hey.”
Stanley and Richie’s eyes went comically wide as they took in the sight on Stan’s back doorstep. Before them stood a disheveled Mike and Eddie, both sweaty and breathing like they’d ran all the way there. Eddie was holding the collar of his shirt to split and bleeding skin of his chin, droplets of the blood escaping and dripping down his neck, leaving dried trails like lay lines. Mike was smiling almost apologetically, like he was sorry to have stopped by.
“Got a first aid kit?” Mike broke the silence, smile almost manic as he joked.
“What the fuck happened?!” Stan inquired, pulling Mike in the room and out of the way before Richie practically launched himself at Eddie, who he promptly shoved over to the sink so he could begin cleaning his wound.
“It’s a pretty, uh, funny story actually.” Mike said with a strange, nervous laugh. Stan studied him crossly between cupboards he opened in search of some bandages. “Mind if I have a glass of water?”
“Go ahead.” Stan replied warily, watching Mike grab a cup out of the cabinet to his left with trembling hands. Richie moved Eddie away from the sink as Mike came over, meeting Stan at the kitchen island and grabbing the box of band-aids he’d successfully scavenged. Mike drank three full glasses while Richie diligently attended to Eddie’s chin. Stan and Eddie caught each other’s gazes just once, and at Stan’s questioning eyebrow Eddie only shook his head. Stan waited a moment more before starting in on Mike again. “You gonna tell this funny story?”
“It’s a real doozy.” Mike braced his hands on the sink, back facing the others.
“I think I can handle it.”
Mike took a deep breath before turning.
“You want the long or the short of it?”
“Dealer’s choice.”
“I think I just controlled fire with my mind.”
Richie dropped the bandage he was opening.
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah. That’s the short.”
“Does the long explain this?” Richie pointed at Eddie’s band-aid clad chin.
“If I tell you it involves Hockstetter and Belch, does that answer your question?”
“Shit. Yeah.” Richie adjusted his glasses reverently, eyes downcast as his mind easily grasped the general specifics.
“So you what, turned his flamethrower contraption off?” Stan crossed his arms and leaned against the pantry.
“More like turned it around.” Mike paused to drink more water. “It didn’t burn me.”
“It touched you?” Mike nodded. “And it didn’t burn.” Another nod. “And you’re sure it was real fire.” Richie continued incredulously.
“It was. A whole lot of it. And it couldn’t touch me.”
“Bullshit.” Richie said with awe.
“You literally turned invisible a couple days ago.” Stan glared at Richie.
“Yeah, but- that’s nuts!”
“More nuts than your thing?”
Richie qualmed. “No…”
“So shush. Let the man continue.”
“That’s pretty much all there is to it.” Mike shrugged. “I guess fire can’t burn me anymore.”
“Let’s test it.” Richie pulled a lighter out of his jean pocket. “Experimentation.”
Mike spoke at the same time as Stan, his acquiescence overlapping Stanley’s protests.
“It’s fine, Stan.” Mike repeated, stepping over to Richie with an outstretched arm.
“What if it was just a fluke?” Stan folded his hands in concern.
“It’s just a tiny little Bic, what can it do?” Mike said casually as Richie flicked on the flame.
“You sure?” Richie asked, lighter in one hand and Mike’s arm in the other.
“Go right ahead.”
Richie watched Mike’s face with pinched eyebrows, disbelief and uncertainty on his face. He titled the flame to touch skin, eyes going wide as Mike did not flinch.
“Nothing?” Richie pressed the flame into Mike’s skin, which was not burning or bubbling as all laws of physics deemed it should.
“It feels like hot wax, but not super hot wax.” Mike took another sip of his water with his free hand.
“Are you the wax in this equation?” Richie questioned as he moved the flame up and down the length of Mike’s forearm.
“I think so?”
“Fucking hell.” Richie sighed as he let go of the trigger, pocketing the lighter once more. “Of course you get a useful power.” He complained as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“The fuck do you mean?”
“I mean that’s what this whole thing is, right? We’re all getting superpowers or something! And I get this bullshit where some of my organs go see-through, and it hurts like a bitch, mind you, and you get to be fire-retardant! Stan can fuckin’, I don’t know, levitate things, which is helpful-”
Stan and Mike spoke over each other again.
“Stan can what?”
“You’ve been reading too many comic books.”
Stan looked guilty after he realized what Mike had said over his comment.
“Oh. Uh, yeah. Last night. My book was floating.”
“That’s it?”
“I made it fly into the ceiling.”
“Did it stay there?”
“No, it fell.”
“Who cares if it stayed up there? Point is Stanley actually gets something that doesn’t suck-”
“Eddie, you’ve been weirdly quiet. Are you okay?” Stan interrupted Richie’s rant, desperately wanting to shift the subject away from himself. Eddie blanched at the sudden question, shuffling his weight awkwardly on his feet. He thought for a moment about saying something, but settled on a shake of his head. “What’s up?” Stan pressed.
“I’m with Richie.” Eddie said after a moment, voice unsure. Richie definitely didn’t dig his nails into his legs from where his hands were clenched in his pockets in response to the thoughts Eddie saying the phrase I’m with Richie conjured. “I got dealt a really shitty hand.”
Richie swallowed, wishing away the heat in his cheeks. “How so?”
“You know how so!” Eddie went from reserved and shaken to bitterness teetering on the edge of rage in a matter of seconds. “The only ‘power’ I got is being scared so shitless I can’t even fucking move every time something goes wrong!”
“Eds.” Richie pleaded softly, hoping to head off the explosion he knew was coming.
“You should have seen me today, Richie. I was fucking useless. Mike was about to get barbequed and I just fucking laid there!”
“Belch was holding you down Eddie, he had his boot in your back-” Mike protested.
“Wait, Belch had his boot in your back? That son of a-”
“The point is that I’m useless now! Who am I if I can’t protect my friends?!”
“Eds, you are not useless-”
“Richie’s right, Eddie-”
“You don’t get it, Stan-”
“Eddie, I don’t think you have a super power.” Mike said firmly, breaking through the chaos of everyone’s voices overlapping.
“Excuse me?” Eddie blinked at him.
“I don’t think you have a ‘super power’.” Mike air quoted, glancing at Richie. “I think you have a panic disorder.”
“Mike.” Richie warned quietly, almost subconsciously raising a hand as if to placate a wild animal. Stan stared at him shocked, genuine surprise and fear overtaking him as he worried over the results of the statement.
Eddie went white, his whole body eerily stilling. His eyes started out laser-focused on Mike’s face but began to dart around the room. He tried to form words, his brain working in overdrive as he scrambled over a response. To Richie it looked like he’d short-circuited.
“I- you- how dare-”
“Eddie, I’m not trying to offend you-”
“How dare you, Michael.” Eddie spat. “You have got to be fucking kidding me right now.”
“I’m not.” Mike stood his ground.
“If I wanted someone to stand here and list a bunch of fake illnesses I don’t have, I’d be at home!” Eddie nearly screamed. Stan clasped a hand over his mouth. Richie swallowed again before laughing nervously with the teasing, though-”
“Shut UP Richard. I’m not fucking around.” Eddie rounded on Mike again. “I can’t believe you, one of my best friends treating me like my fucking mother, trying to find some fucking disease you can blame me on-”
“I am not acting like your mother, Eddie.” Mike yelled back, surprising Stan and Richie with his intensity.
“You know what hurts the most about it?” Eddie pushed on, apparently unaffected by the bite back. “What really gets me about being told I’m sick all the time? She says my behavior is what makes me sick, the things I do or like or say. It’s not my temperature or my complexion or whether or not I throw up, it’s my fucking personality! To her, I’m the disease! And I thought you of all people would see me differently. But it’s clear now you don’t. I’m something you want to cure too.”
“Eddie-” Mike protested feebly, shocked beyond belief.
“I am sorry I was such a useless pile of shit today.” Eddie said through angry tears forming in his eyes. “I feel terrible about how I acted. But you don’t have to be so vicious about it. You don’t have to treat me like a germ.”
With that, Eddie was turning on a heel and leaving, storming out of Stan’s back door as the other’s scrambled after him, Richie yelling for him to come back.
“Let him go.” Mike said calmly, a hand on Richie’s shoulder as the three stood in the doorway. They watched Eddie storm out of the garden, the brand new and almost frighteningly large cactus plant near the door escaping their notice.
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“I’m the world’s worst boyfriend.”
“Oh come on, Ben.”
“No, I really am. I mean, absolute shit.”
“Th-there are p-p-plenty worse boyfr-friends than you out there.” Bill clapped a hand on Ben’s shoulder, smiling at the sight of Ben idly fretting.
“What kind of asshole waits until a week before an anniversary before they even start thinking about a gift?” Ben put his head in his hands, soda and fries forgotten on the bench next to him. He and Bill were on one of their regular excursions to the downtown district of Derry, where they would both get a coke and fries to be eaten as they walked around and windowshopped for all the things they couldn’t afford.
“S-some people forget the d-day entirely.” Bill pointed out, popping a french fry into his mouth. “I did.”
Ben looked up at him incredulously. “You forgot yours and Bev’s anniversary?”
“She b-broke up with me for a reason.” He joked, taking a drink of his soda. Ben laughed at his casual admission.
“No offense, but I’m glad the bars not so high.” Ben said through giggles.
Bill snorted. “Wh-what bar?” The two broke into fits of laughter, trying their best to contain themselves in public.
“Well, shit.” Ben leaned back, picking up his styrofoam cup of cola and taking a sip. “Guess I’ve only gotta do something mildly impressive.”
“What k-kind of gift are you th-thinking?” Bill tucked a leg under the other as he ate more of his fries.
“It’s cliche as shit, but I was thinking jewelry.” Ben scratched the back of his neck. “I mean, it is only our six-month, but still…” Ben trailed off, Bill watching him intently as he continued to eat. “I’m really fucking serious about her. I wanna get something that says I am.”
“Jewelry is good, then.” Bill said seriously.
“What do you think she would like?” Ben asked, vulnerability and desperation clear in his eyes as he locked them with Bill’s.
“C-can’t go w-w-wrong with a n-necklace.” Bill took another drink.
“Yeah…” Ben sighed, contemplatively taking a bite of one of his fries. “That doesn’t feel like… special enough though.” He finished the fry. “I feel like it should be something, I don’t know, more. She deserves it.”
“Yeah she does.” Bill agreed sincerely as he took another drink. The boys sat in silence for a few moments, watching Derry townfolk shuffle around on their nameless errands.
“Would it be the most embarrassing thing in the world to get her a promise ring?” Ben said after the silence had stretched too far. Bill shook his head, swallowing the fry he was on.
“Nu-uh. I think sh-she’d love that.”
“Really?” Ben asked nervously.
“Sh-she told me sh-she did s-s-so, yeah.” Bill grinned.
“Oh. I didn’t know you guys talked about…” Ben fiddled with his fingers nervously.
“Y-you guys?” Bill supplied. “B-b-bev and I are still fr-friends, Ben. We talk ab-bout all kinds of stuff.”
“I just didn’t think you’d want to hear about it.” Ben looked at his feet. “I wouldn’t want to if I were you.”
Bill was silent for a beat, thinking. “You l-liked her when we w-were dating, d-d-didn’t you.”
“Yeah.” Ben admitted after a breath. “I’ve liked her since we first met.”
“Th-then you really should get th-that ring.” Bill ate his last fry, wiping the grease from his fingers on the corner of his flannel. Ben watched Bill nervously, almost as if he were afraid he’d angered him. “You kn-know I’m not huh-hurt over you g-g-guys dating.”
“You’re not?”
“No. B-bev and I have always b-b-been better off as fr-friends. You guys were suh-supposed to be tog-gether.” Ben’s jaw dropped slightly at the statement as Bill stood up from the bench, garbage clasped in one hand.
“Bill, it really means a lot to hear you say that.” Ben admitted as he stood as well.
“Sh-shoulda said it s-s-sooner. It’s always b-b-been true.” Bill shrugged, looking up and down the street at the row of stores. His eyes landed on a pawn shop nestled at the end of the block. “Now c-c-c’mon. Let’s go g-get your girlfriend a pr-promise ring.”
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“Well that sure was swell, Mikey.” Richie commented bitterly as he paced the Uris living room, a slice of pepperoni pizza in each hand. He had been alternating between the two, taking an angry bite out of one, then the other, then back again. These are technically his third and fourth slices, Stan thought after a brief glance at the pizza box.
“Richie, don’t get pissy with me. If you’re worried about him, go take it up with Eddie.” Mike tore off the end of his breadstick and ate it.
“You’re the one who pissed him off.” Richie took a bite from the left slice, speaking before swallowing. “You should apologize.”
“For what? Looking out for his best interests? And you should chew with your mouth closed. God, what are you, five?” Mike grumbled before finishing off his breadstick.
“Je-sus, Micycle. Bee in your bonnet?” Richie teased, proceeding to take a bite out of the right slice.
“Forgive me if I’m not in the mood, Tozier.” Mike glared at him.
“Would you two cut it out?” Stan cut in, depositing his pizza crust in the lid of the box. “If you’re gonna keep bickering like this, I’m gonna kick you out.”
“On what grounds?” Richie squinted at him.
“The ‘no-whiny-assholes’ clause.” Stan returned the look as he went for another slice.
“Sorry.” Mike mumbled as he grabbed another breadstick.
“I will not yield.” Richie said with a stubborn flourish, polishing off the left slice. Stan rolled his eyes as he shook his head.
“Of course you don’t. Mike, do you think we should have another meeting and tell the rest about what happened?”
Mike looked contemplatively at the carpet. “I’m not opposed to it, but don’t we have a movie night in a couple of days?”
“We could wait till then if you want.”
“That’s probably best. Oh, and Ben got those pictures developed. He’ll probably want us all to take a look at them.”
“What for?” Richie muttered to himself, finishing the crust of the right slice, his now pizza-less hands he wiped off on his jeans. “Said it yourself, won’t do any good.”
“Ben’s peace of mind will probably appreciate it.” Mike quipped. “Besides, he was gonna give a bunch to you.”
Richie folded his arms and turned to look at Mike, who even while sitting on the floor with Stan, still seemed tall, immovable.
“You shouldn’t have said that to Eddie.”
“I’m not wrong.” Mike rebutted, unphased by the quick turn of subject.
“That doesn’t matter. You know he hates being told he’s got something wrong with him.”
“I never said having a panic disorder is wrong.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s not going to jump to that conclusion.”
“That’s on him.”
“You hurt his feelings, Mike!”
“I was being honest!”
“That’s not always what Eddie wants.” Stan cut in. “We’ve been friends with him for a long time, Mike. He’s always preferred easy lies over hard truths.”
“It’s how he was raised.” Richie muttered under his breath as he fiddled with the carpet with his bare toes.
“So you baby him and tell him what he wants to hear? How is that any better than his home life?”
Richie and Stan remained silent.
“I’m not going to patronize him. I know he hates that shit even more. I’m going to be honest with him because he’s my friend and he deserves that, even if it makes him angry.”
“That’s fair.” Richie aquiesced after a beat. “But he’s still gonna be pissy with you if you don’t apologize. And he probably won’t listen to your reasoning if he doesn’t like your accusation.”
“He’ll come around.”
______________________________________________________________
Ben arrived home a little later than usual, pocket heavy with the weight of what he’d decided to do that evening. His whole demeanor was effected by the choice, his smile giddy as he unlocked the door. His mother was waiting with freshly reheated dinner, a telltale sign she was near the end of a pay period. The sight of the cheap, frozen meals steaming in their plastic wrap on the table made Ben feel a little sick, and abruptly wish he hadn’t just spent so much of his money. It was supposed to help with groceries you idiot, Ben chastized himself.
“Hey sweetie. Dinner’s on the table.” His mother greeted as she entered the room, smiling at Ben as he shed his shoes.
“I saw, looks delicious, thank you.” Despite his reservations about the situation, Ben would not refuse a meal from his mother, no matter the context. He knew he should sometimes, knew her constant over feeding was an almost exclusive reason for his issues with weight as a young man. But he was also aware it was one of her ways for making up for his father’s absence. She used food to show her love, and if he said he wasn’t hungry, she took it as rejection. Ben may not always be hungry, but God did he constantly love his mother. So frozen dinners it is.
“You look particularly at peace this evening, Benny.” His mother commented as she crossed to the sink and began washing her hands. “Anything exciting happen today?”
Ben smiled shyly to himself as he got a glass and poured some juice from the fridge. “Uh, yeah actually.” He leaned over and set his cup down at his seat, then raised the jug of juice so his mother could see. “Want a glass?”
“Sure, thanks. Tell me about this excitement!” She pressed, drying her hands before sitting down.
“So, remember how I told you Bev and I’s anniversary is next week?” Ben couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he returned the juice to the fridge. “I got her gift today.” He beamed at his mother as he handed her her cup and sat down.
She returned his grin. “What’d you get her?”
Ben looked around conspiratorially, preening when it made his mother laugh. They loved to joke that others might be around, that things must be secret, ever since Ben was a child and loved playing spies. When he deemed the coast was clear, he pulled the small ring box out of his pocket.
“I got her this promise ring.” Ben said as reverently as he held it out under the light. His mother took it in hand, regarding the ring in awe.
“Oh Benny, this is gorgeous.” She breathed.
“Think she’ll like it?” His tone betrayed his nervousness. “Bill helped me pick it out, I was so unsure.”
“Honey, she’ll love it.” She smiled and returned the box to him. “It’s perfect.”
“I sure hope so.” He pocketed the ring box and picked up his fork, using it to tear back the plastic wrap over his food.
“Sorry it’s not plated, I wasn’t sure how late you’d be and I wanted it to stay warm.” His mother said as she took a drink.
“Oh no mom, this is fine. I don’t mind a bit.” Ben shook his head.
“Oh, and speaking of miss Beverly, she left a voicemail for you a little while ago.” She added, cutting into her meatloaf.
“Thanks, I’ll listen to it after dinner.”
They ate in silence for a bit before she spoke again.
“I like that girl, Benny. I like her a lot. Think someday you’ll put a real ring on that finger?”
Ben smiled down at his food.
“I sure hope so.”
______________________________________________________________
“Georgie, can you get the door for us?”
“Sure momma.” Georgie Denbrough responded with a smile as he jumped down from his makeshift vegetable cutting station. His brother, who was tenderizing meat next to him smiled as he watched his brother happily run off.
The doorbell rang again as Georgie rounded the corner. “Coming!” He called sweetly, beaming as he reached the door. He pulled it open easily with his one arm.
“Oh- hi Georgie.”
Georgie squinted at the sight before him, happy but perplexed. Eddie Kaspbrak was on his doorstep, which he was excited about, because Eddie was his friend and he loved seeing him. But Eddie also looked hurt, his chin covered in bandaids and spots of dried blood on his yellow tee shirt.
“Hi Eddie.” Georgie kept his smile plastered on his face, reminding himself of what his mother always tells him; don’t ask people invasive questions, Georgie.
“Is your brother home?” Eddie asked nervously, wringing his hands on the bottom of his shirt.
“Yeah, he’s in the kitchen.” Georgie gestured across his body, jerking towards the kitchen with a thumb. “Are you staying for dinner?”
Eddie gave a short, airy laugh. “I’ll have to ask. Can I talk to him?”
“Billy!” Georgie suddenly switched to his outside voice. “Eddie’s here!”
Eddie gave Georgie a slightly surprised expression, impressed by the kid’s volume. A moment later Bill arrived in the doorway, chiding Georgie about yelling in the house. He stopped abruptly as he caught sight of Eddie in the doorway.
“Ed-eddie.” He crinkled his brow. “You alright?”
“Uh, sorta. I’m- can uh, can I stay over tonight?”
“Yeah, of course. W-we’re just making-”
“Dinner, yeah, I’ll help.” Eddie scurried into the house, not bothering to give Bill a chance to finish the thought. The boys shared a look as they left the doorway, its meaning indecipherable to Georgie. He huffed to himself, feeling a bit angry about once again being left out of things, and went to close the door. He stopped his motion at the sight of the edges of their front garden, his gaze on the bushes that came up to the side of the doorstep. The small yellow flowers that usually bloomed on its stems in spring were opening up, unfurling at an unnatural speed, leaving the bush covered in fresh blossoms before it stopped. Georgie watched with wide eyes, confounded by the sight before him.
Momma’s right, he thought as he finally willed himself to close the door. I’ve been watching too many cartoons.
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authors notes: sorry this took forever to come out! i told myself i’d put it up on wednesday. i did not accomplish that lmao. anyways he’res another installment, things are really starting to pick up! in the pop culture universe georgie has one arm; the denbroughs were in an accident when the boys were young, where georgie lost his arm and bill sustained the brain damage that causes his stutter. also no one is more of a benverly cheerleader than bill.
tagslist: @s-s-stutteringbill @gazeboseddie @misssiriusblack @mythgirl96 @crackhousetozier @reddieaddict @wincestklaine @beepbeep-losers @ayyyymichele @megelizabethvh @tapetayloe @flickerflies @ghostbustermike @i-is-gazebo @reddiesetrichie @wyttolff @gayzier @kaspbrak-is-our-king @mikedenbrough @28shoes @nicoperryy @kinghanscom @eddiecare @shadysandi @fyeahreddie @reddieforlove
#prior.txt#prior.fic#popcultureverse#it#losers club#reddie#benverly#stenbrough#stenbranlon#it fic#reddie fic
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reddie for number 9!!!!! ily
here u go anon! sorry this took awhile, u gave me the most challenging request out of the ones in my inbox, but i love a good challenge! have some tooth rotting fluff.
#9- baking cookies
this one is part of the pop culture universe!!
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Eddie didn’t think it was possible he’d ever been more impressed by a sound effect. But as he stood stirring a bowl full of cookie dough in the Tozier’s kitchen watching Richie bop his head and imitate the synthesizer effects in the opening of Styx’s Too Much Time On My Hands, he was baffled by Richie’s ability to mimic the noises perfectly. His motions became less specific and sloppy as he just observed, smile growing as the song continued. As the singer began the verse Richie jumped in, singing poorly under his breath.
For the whole time he’d known the boy, Eddie had never found Richie to be a particularly good singer. He was pitchy, lacked flourish, sometimes missed beats. But what he never lacked was confidence. Richie knew all the words to any song you could think of, knew of every band and every album. He loved singing too, even on days when Stan would yell at him from the driver’s seat to ‘stop your damn caterwauling!’. He just sang, all the time, at any instance, music constantly filling his head even if it didn’t fill his ears. Under his breath, belting, both sides of the duets, anything. He just couldn’t help but feel it out.
Eddie didn’t like to get caught thinking ridiculously sappy thoughts, but if someone had a telepathic tap into his mind, they’d see how fond he was of the sight.
“Pass the flour?” Richie called over his shoulder at a break in the song. Eddie scrambled around for a moment, trying to locate the sack amidst the mess they’d made of the kitchen counter.
“You didn’t coat the rolling pin, did you.” Eddie said cheekily as he came up behind Richie with the bag.
“Shush.” Richie grabbed a pinch of flour out of the bag without breaking his concentration from the task in front of him, booping Eddie’s nose with a flour covered finger surprisingly accurately for not looking at the other boys face.
“Richie!” Eddie sputtered as he swiped at the flour, blinking rapidly and hoping none got in his eyes.
“Don’t sass me, Edward. I’m working.”
“Fuck off, it’s cookies. It’s not that hard.” Eddie pouted as he ran over to the sink for a wet washcloth. “The hell are you doing over there anyways? I’m already almost ready with the next batch.” He swiped the washcloth over his face, removing the debris.
“I’m working.” Richie sassed, returning to his light singing as he continued fussing with the cookies in front of him.
“You’re taking it way too seriously.” Eddie shook his head with a laugh as he crossed back over. “What are you working on doing to them anyway?” He peered over Richie’s shoulder, prepared to fire off another joke, but was shocked to see an array of delicately shaped lumps of dough, each a different kind of bird, looking up at him from the baking sheet. “Holy shit, Richie.” Eddie said with awe as he wrapped an arm around Richie’s middle. He shushed the part of his brain screaming “YES! I GET TO DO THAT NOW!” so he could hear Richie speak.
“Birds for Staniel. He’s gonna love em.”
“I had no idea you could do this, Rich. These are amazing.”
“I didn’t either. I just kinda went for it, ya know?” Richie turned to Eddie with a smile then, completing the beak on the final bird on the sheet. His hands were covered with a thin layer of flour, which he’d been using to maneuver the stickiest parts. Eddie couldn’t find it in him to complain about dirty hands as they came to rest on his shoulders. The song changed to The Cars’ You Might Think, just as Richie dropped a light kiss on Eddie’s forehead. “Now grab me that other cookie sheet and the dough you just made, I got more birds to birth.”
“Birth?” Eddie gave him a flat glare, laughing bluntly at the word choice as he gathered the requested supplies.
“I am their mother, bringing them into the world.” Richie countered with a dramatic flourish as he plucked the sheet out of Eddie’s hand and replaced it with the other with a jaunty turn to the music.
“That’s.. Not how that works.” Eddie shook his head with a laugh as he popped the finished ones into the oven, setting the timer. “But okay.” Richie just laughed lightly, returning to his task as he scooped a lump of dough out with his hands. Eddie closed the oven all the way and returned to Richie’s side of the counter, wrapping both of his arms around Richie’s middle in a hug from behind. He rested his head on Richie’s back as Richie continued to sing, to both the words and the twinkling sound effects between verses. Eddie smiled, hoping Richie could feel the smile through the fabric of his shirt.
Richie didn’t hit notes perfectly, or bake the best cookies. (While visually impressive, his birds turned out quite hard and unpalatable when they were served at Stan’s birthday party later that week.) His jokes were off-color and more often than not at the expense of Eddie or his mother, and he couldn’t dance for shit. But to Eddie the most loveable thing about the lanky boy was his attitude. I just went for it, ya know?
Eddie loved Richie the most because he went for things. Because he had the confidence and the bravery to jump into anything, no matter his prior capability or knowledge. He made Eddie want to do the same.
So he did.
Muffled, with a smile pressed to Richie’s back, he told him just how much he loved him.
Without hesitation, Richie said “I love you” right back.
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tagslist: @s-s-stutteringbill @gazeboseddie @misssiriusblack @mythgirl96 @crackhousetozier @reddieaddict @wincestklaine @beepbeep-losers @ayyyymichele @megelizabethvh @tapetayloe @flickerflies @ghostbustermike @i-is-gazebo @reddiesetrichie @wyttolff @gayzier @kaspbrak-is-our-king @mikedenbrough @28shoes @nicoperryy @kinghanscom @eddiecare @shadysandi @fyeahreddie @reddieforlove
#prior.txt#prior.fic#popcultureverse#anon#anyways this is what happens when i shuffle my 80s playlist so i hope u like! <
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20 with reddie PLS PLS pls
this one turned out v fluffy and cute i hope u enjoy sweet hannah
this one’s also a part of the pop culture universe!!
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The rain struggled to hold a steady pace as it beat against the side of the Denbrough household. It had been fluctuating for near twenty minutes now, and Stan could see through the small kitchen window the wide grin on Ben’s face as he surveyed his work. Rinsing his plate and putting it in the dishwasher, Stan then turned to leave, pride bubbling deep in his heart.
“I’m heading up, you guys.” Stan announced to the remaining two losers still huddled under blankets in the living room. Mike had gone upstairs to head to be the earliest, and Bill and Bev were outside cheering on Ben (and getting thoroughly drenched) as he practiced.
“Aw, really Stanley? There’s only like, twenty minutes left!” Richie protested, only his head visible from the mound of blankets on the couch.
“I’ve seen this movie a million times. I’m going to bed.” Stan yawned, more so to emphasize his point than because he needed to.
“Goodnight Stan.” Eddie’s head emerged from the fluffy pile, giving Stan a tired smile. It looked like he was minutes away from falling asleep himself.
“Night Eddie.” Stan returned the expression in kind, feeling more than a little sappy at the sight.
“Night, Stan.” Richie echoed in a somewhat exasperated tone, but not one that was a bit serious. Stan laughed to himself before the two shared a smirking glance, and with that, Stan headed up to crawl into Bill’s bed with Mike.
Richie spent a moment turning back to the tv, eyeing Eddie happily as he re-adjusted and got himself comfortable again. After a beat he yawned, his own exhaustion catching up with him. It had been a long day of practice, and his body was fatigued from all the effort his powers took. He unearthed the remote from where it had almost disappeared into the cushions and raised it to turn the TV volume down, sensing by the shift in Eddie’s breathing that he was pretty much out.
The volume hit it’s low, and for the first time in a long time, the lack of the sound gave Richie peace. Ben had, even for a moment, evened the pace of the rain, the steady soft pattering of it making Richie feel more relaxed than he’d probably ever been.
He was this close to falling asleep when a sudden booming crash of thunder woke him and Eddie.
“Sorry!” Ben’s weather-muffled yell sounded from outside the house, and the two began to laugh as the rain went back to its steady beat. Eddie stifled a yawn and got comfortable on Richie’s side again, hiking the blanket up to his chin. Richie dropped his head on top of Eddie’s, pressing a light kiss to the boy’s hair as he snuggled in.
“Richie?” Eddie said quietly, voice slightly muffled by the blankets.
“Yeah Eds?” He replied through a small yawn.
“I love you.”
They stayed like that, curled up with each other, soft rainfall the soundtrack to their breathing, before Richie ruined it.
“I love you too, Spaghetti Man.”
It took all of two seconds before Eddie was moving, struggling at his blanket prison. “I take it back, I’m sleeping upstairs with Stan and Mike.”
Somewhere between Richie’s giggle-filled protests and the two consecutive lightning strikes, Eddie decided begrudgingly to stay.
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tagslist: @s-s-stutteringbill @gazeboseddie @misssiriusblack @mythgirl96 @crackhousetozier @reddieaddict @wincestklaine @beepbeep-losers @ayyyymichele @megelizabethvh @tapetayloe @flickerflies @ghostbustermike @i-is-gazebo @reddiesetrichie @wyttolff @gayzier @kaspbrak-is-our-king @mikedenbrough @28shoes @nicoperryy @kinghanscom @eddiecare @shadysandi @fyeahreddie
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to (un)boldly go
the uss derry and her crew are, in every sense, the most useless ship in all of starfleet. but even the most hopeless of hot messes can sometimes manage to get their shit together long enough to make something stick, and the self titled losers of the federation are here to prove that even if you hate the job, you should never fire your garbage man.
that is unless he can’t even take out the trash.
chapter two; the academy
wordcount - 3.4k
warnings - this is not fckin edited!
read it on ao3
other works
When the spires of the station first came into view through the windows of the old Hanlon farm truck, Bill didn’t know what to think. His brain nearly short circuited; he’d seen photos and pamphlets a heard testimonials about the thing, but he’d never been able to grasp just how big it is.
Mike’s father, Will, turned to look at him from the driver's seat, smiling at Bill’s look of wonder.
“Impressive, huh?” He grinned, Mike now taking notice of Bill’s expression and joining his father’s reaction. Bill simply nodded, too focused on watching small ships slowly float up and away from the tallest towers, hesitating before blasting away in beams of light, shining in the midday sun. Mike’s father laughed at that, and continued. “And these are just the ones for earth transport. You should see the kind you’ll be taking off in.”
The truck sustained its path through the open fields near the base, clouds of dust trailing behind it, confetti in a celebration of change, as Mike and Bill watched with blooming hearts as their future barrelled towards them in the fields of Maine.
It took awhile to get all the way to entrance gate, and even longer to wait in line behind all the others that were in the drop off zone. Mike scanned the area to see if there was anyone else from Derry, the small town where he and Bill hailed. He thought he maybe recognized a face or two, but it was no one they knew well. When they finally reached the unloading zone, tucked away in the shadow of the second highest spire, Will pulled the truck up to the curb and parked it in their designated section. There were about ten spaces along the curb, each with people in varying stages of exiting vehicles. Some were families dropping off young adults, probably just barely a day over the age minimum. Others were older, stepping out of cabs by themselves with only a bag or two in hand. Bill hopped out of the passenger side, reaching the tailgate first and dropping it carefully. He clambered up inside the bed of the truck to grab the two identical duffels that contained everything he and Mike would have moving forward. They’d never travelled before, and were currently the farthest away from home they’d ever been. They had to go buy the bags brand new, hence their purchase of the same one.
Two boys in a small town on Earth, looking up at the stars every night and just… knowing someday they’d be among them.
Mike retrieved the bags from Bill’s outstretched hands and set them on the curb, turning to face his father and Bill as he descended. The tailgate went back up, and the three stood looking at each other with an electric current of excitement and nervousness and sadness and hope flowing through their spirits.
“Boys.” Will shook his head, a wide grin overtaking his face, before looking at them both with wet eyes. “I’m so proud of you two.” His arms came up to envelop them both in a tight hug, his arm around Mike coming up to wrap around the back of his head and tilt it in for a kiss on the hair.
“Thanks, dad.” Mike beamed at his father, rolling his eyes a bit at the affection.
“Ditto.” Bill sighed, fighting off tears as he stared in awe at the man who’d become a second father to him, in many ways preferable to the first. He looked at Mike, the boy who was his rock, his brother, his friend, and saw nothing but more of that self same fire, that burning to get out there and explore.
“You’ll call when you’re set up in the housing.” Will continued, giving him a stern look.
“Of course. And you’ll tell Bill’s parents?” Mike gave him an identical expression, but in a joking, exaggerated rendition.
“Soon as I hear from ya.” He turned to look at Bill again, expression tainted with sadness. “I’m sorry they wouldn’t come out to send you off.”
“It’s what it is.” Bill shrugged, scuffing the toe of his sneakers on the cement. “Can’t change their minds on the whole thing, so.”
“I’ll make sure they know you’re okay.” He put a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “They’ll come around one day.”
“I hope so.” Bill let out a nervous laugh. Mike and his father took it as a sign to smile again, and before they knew it, the boys were wrapped up in a bone-crushing hug once more.
“My boys! Off to the academy.” The man laughed as he ruffled Bill’s hair. “You better graduate top of your classes.”
“We will, we will, dad!” Mike protested, but it was through laughter of his own as he tried to pry the man's grip.
“And you better be a fuckin’ captain, young man,” He pulled Bill into a headlock. “Or I’ll have spent all these years hearin’ you yap about nothin’!”
The three devolved into tearful laughs, more embraces being shared as the shade slowly shifted from the sun’s arc through the sky.
“We gotta go, dad.” Mike said finally, the laughter leaving his shoulders.
“Okay, okay, I’ll get out of here. But you gotta promise you’ll come see your old man as soon as you can.”
“Whenever I get the chance, Dad.” He wrapped his arms lovingly around his father.
“And drag this one with you.” He joked, tugging Bill’s ear, earning a wet laugh.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Bye.” Mike said, muffled by his father’s shoulder.
“Bye, son.” His dad returned softly. Mike pulled away, wiping quickly at his face as he turned to get his bag. Then he was pulling Bill into a hug, whispering the same farewell, and Bill felt loved so deep to his core in a way he’d almost never known before. They separated and Bill mimicked Mike, duffel now slung over his shoulder. Mike’s dad went around the truck and climbed in, starting it up. He waved to the boys who stood on the curb, reigning in tears.
“Be careful you two! Make all of us back home proud!”
“We will!” The boys called back in unison, waving and beaming as the truck pulled away and began to exit the compound. And as they turned and began to enter the throng of their fellow recruits headed to their transports, they knew, deep down, that somehow, they would.
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“Alright, alright, Maggie, that’s enough pictures.” Wentworth Tozier waved a hand in front of his face with a squint, as though the flash was some kind of bug he could swat away. His wife rolled her eyes with a sigh, dropping the old digital camera clutched in her hand down to her side. Went stepped away from his son’s side, shaking his head to clear away the residual effects. Richie Tozier removed his large, obnoxious spectacles to rub at his eyes, comically blinking and earning a chuckle from his father. “See Mags, you’re blinding the poor boy.”
“He’s already blind,” She waved him off. “Courtesy of you.”
“Fair.” Wentworth laughed, clapping a hand on Richie’s shoulder. “But he’s gonna need those peepers in the best condition if he’s gonna be that big hotshot pilot he’s got his heart set on.”
“I still don’t know why you’re so determined on it…” Maggie said quietly, almost to herself, as she reached out to cup her son’s cheek.
“It’s what I’ve always wanted, Mags.” Richie gave her a weak but convincing smile, his tone colored with exasperation over how many times he’d tried to explain to her just what it meant to him to fly. She hadn’t understood the first time he declared it, after an evening of joyriding a friends cruiser, bursting into the kitchen with his windblown curls bouncing wildly around him and beaming. She hadn’t understood it when he graduated with a focus in piloting and aeronautics, her expression in the audience almost confused as they announced his major. She hadn’t understood it when he got his acceptance letter to the academy, flight path scholarship, and she wasn’t trying to now, the day he was leaving for it.
It was disappointing, but it wasn’t something he was unused to. What mattered was that she was his mother, and loved him, even if she couldn’t wrap her head around his choices.
She shrugged and wrapped a curl around her finger. “If it’s what your dream is.” She gave him the best smile she could, and for Richie, it was enough to send him off with confidence.
The pager in his hand pinged, signaling the arrival of his shuttle.
“I gotta go, guys.” He looked up at his parents with solemn eyes, suddenly unable to joke around the lump in his throat. “I’ll call you as soon as we’re settled.”
“And every sunday, so I don’t worry.” Maggie reminded him as he grabbed his away bag, a small thing containing only his most valued possessions.
“Won’t forget it. Bye Mags.” He gave her a thin smile, using every bit of his acting skills to hold back the wave of emotion as he hugged his mother goodbye. She stepped away after a moment, wiping her nose as she gave him space. Wentworth stepped over and grabbed Richie by the shoulders, a strange expression on his face as he locked eyes with Richie through both of their pairs of glasses. “Bye Went.” Richie joked feebly, giving a wobbly smile.
Wentworth suddenly reached a hand up to grasp the back of Richie’s hair, fingers tangled in the messy curls there, a huge grin breaking out on his face. “Goodbye son. I love you.” They shared beaming smiles and wet laughter, before both men sobered up and pulled away. Richie awkwardly excused himself, utterly at a loss for words, and with more giggles and waves he left their eighth floor apartment and descended to the street, where his shuttle eagerly awaited.
Safely inside, he took a breath, and released the shock of the situation. He could count on his fingers how many times he remembered his father telling him he loved him. He knew it to be true; it wasn’t like his father was unkind. Wentworth just wasn’t a serious man, and hardly ever outright spoke his feelings. His head was already swimming with the weight of leaving home, leaving everything, to join Starfleet, but this added a layer of dizzying emotion he could feel it threatening to spill.
Hell, he hardly ever says that. You can spare a tear or two for this occasion, Richie thought to himself.
And for the first time in his life, alone in the back of the shuttle on the way to the Academy, he cried, with a huge smile on his face.
Happy tears.
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Departure from home for Stanley Uris is an all business affair. There are no tears shed, by any party, no gripping hugs or desperate smiles. There is only further instruction.
On the way in his seat in the shuttles, Stanley did not gaze in wonder out of the viewing windows along with all the other just-old-enough recruits headed off in excitement to their futures. He thought only idly about how easy this will be for him. How he’s been training his whole life to follow and listen.
He’s so lost in his head he almost missed the sharp intakes of breath emanating from the young boy beside him.
“Is everything alright?” He asked, surprising his seat mate, who flinched at the sudden question.
“Oh- uh, yeah. Just don’t like flying, is all.” The other boy wheezed, clearly struggling to keep his breathing under control.
“There’s nothing to worry about. These transports are as sound as any.” Stan assured him casually.
“How can you be sure?” The boy breathed, glaning wide-eyed around the insides of the vessel.
“They’re regulation. They have to be. People use these every day.” Stanley shrugged. “I’m Stanley, by the way. Uris.”
“Eddie Kaspbrak.” The boy gave a weak smile, before shaking Stanley’s outstretched hand with a clammy one. “You new this year?”
“Yeah. Science program.”
“Oh. Cool. I’m a recruit too.”
“What’s your focus?” Stan finally turned to devote his full attention to the conversation, his interest and opinion of this Eddie fellow growing by the minute. Something about his lack of confidence was piquing his interest; or perhaps it was because Stan was so used to the narcissistic assholes of his prep school that it was refreshing to finally meet someone who was not so self absorbed.
“Um… I’m undeclared, actually.” Eddie stared down at the hands folded into his lap.
“That’s just fine.” Stan offered with a gentle smile. Eddie looked at him like he’d hung the stars. “I wish I was. I’ve been studying to be a science officer since I was a kid. It’d be nice to focus on something else for a change.”
“You don’t think its… dumb that I didn’t declare?”
“Fifty six percent of incoming recruits don’t, Eddie. You’re not alone.” Stan replied.
“I just… don’t know what I’m even doing here.” Eddie said dejectedly, his voice small and almost inaudible. “I kind of just… got on board.”
“You didn’t plan to join Starfleet?” Stan gave him a slightly incredulous look.
“No.” Eddie shook his head, returning Stan’s gaze. “I think I was trying to get away, I guess.”
“From what?”
“I don’t know. Everything.”
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Everything, for Eddie Kaspbrak, turned out to be one thing, specifically; his mother.
In the first week of Academy, Stanley and Eddie chose each other as roommates, as end-term project partners, and as friends. Since the latter required actual conversation and honesty, Eddie reluctantly came to share the reasons for his rather hurried departure onto the shuttle where the two met. Over opening ceremonies drinks he cryptically stated that she was the kind of parent who thought they could govern over every aspect of their child’s life with little to no consequences; Stan responded with an equally cryptic ‘preaching to the choir’ comment before the two shared a frankly unprecedented round of shots. In a brief bout of campus diner outings Stan was able to earn the information that Eddie was a hypochondriac, inherited lovingly from his even worse mother. When the subject of Stan’s lack of siblings came up, Eddie declared himself the same, and that he was fatherless as well. On a particularly low evening, one just before Stan’s major entry exam, he admitted that the final straw was his mother’s attempts to set him up with one of her coworkers, a young woman Eddie’s age named Myra. “She’s just- just fucking like her.” He said with a hiccup, downing his fifth beer for the night. Stan had also learned quickly that Eddie was a lightweight. “Ma made me go on a fucking-” Here he belched rather unceremoniously. “Brunch date with her,” He said bitterly. “She fucking joined in on it. They spent the whole time talking about how I need to ‘gain weight’ and ‘put some hair on my chest’ and all kinds of other bullshit.” Another swig. “I told them it was probably a result of all the dick I get, and I promptly fucked off to the academy the next day.”
Stan decided he loved Eddie, and it was almost solely because he’d never laughed so hard in his life.
Before the preliminary was up, the only difference anyone could tell between the two was that one was studying science and the other was quite feisty. But from the outset, Stan and Eddie could feel just how strongly they were destined for each other, and to this day, Eddie will maintain he couldn’t have made it without his newfound family.
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Another member, later to join said family, was the elusive Beverly Marsh. Not a living soul at Starfleet can tell you just what it was that got her there, but her closest friends can guess it had something to do with her deadbeat father.
“Deadbeat, being an understatement of course.” She said as she downed her gin and tonic. “I won’t get into the details, but you can easily guess where I’m going with this.”
“Christ.” Richie Tozier muttered in response, rubbing his eyes behind thick lenses.
“Anyways, no need to dwell. I’m here and he’s in the ground so shit’s looking up, right?” She grinned then, a fiery, dangerous thing that had Richie wondering immediately what kind of woman he was currently having a drink with. She signaled the bartender for another, shot back half of it in one go, and Richie decided he very much liked whatever kind of woman he was currently being out-drank by.
Beverly was an engineering major, part of the student team that discovered the technology to create small-op warp core reserves for pleasure vessels, and the most badass woman in the whole galaxy, as Richie would proclaim at every bar crawl the two attended. Richie met Beverly in their first Technology of Flight class period, when they both walked in sporting the classic shades-indoors-and-sandals-because-hangover look, made eye contact through the haze, and laughed their asses off at the sight of one another. Beverly quickly became a regular call when Richie got bored, which was all the time, and to her, Richie became the greatest source of entertainment the world had ever afforded her. Nothing delighted Beverly more than to goad Richie into performing ridiculous dares, pranks, and heists, which required minimal effort for a maximum payoff. Richie was always game for literally anything, and Beverly was one creative bitch. (another “affectionate” reference via Richie as he tried to explain their latest foray to the Academy campus police.)
One week into their schooling the two were inseparable. Two weeks in and the two were insufferable, their fame instantly and easily earned as the two most rambunctious freshman on the campus.
A badge Beverly wears firmly and proudly, eventually to be joined by all her other Star Fleet distinguishments.
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Benjamin Hanscom remembers his first meeting with Beverly Marsh more fondly than any of the others in their ragtag gang to be, and is still teased by his mother for the call she received that self-same night when he declared that he’d found the woman he was destined to marry. His embarrassment over the call is only eclipsed by his embarrassment over his blunder at flight school, where instead of training to be a pilot he had been training to direct them, and made one hell of a misstep when he misspoke and directed a student all the way to Spokane before realizing they’d gone three hundred thousand miles in the wrong direction.
Ben joined Starfleet, as he admitted sheepishly to Beverly their first night out at a bar, to improve his communication skills.
It was an easy option, coming from a family of Federation devotionals. Ben’s father had been a member, and he vividly remembered his childhood of movement through the galaxy to follow the warp trails his ship left behind. It wasn’t the easiest life, leaving Ben often feeling as though he had no anchor, but as he grew older it only solidified his small-growing notion that an anchor wasn’t necessarily a place. When he met Bev, he decided she’d make a pretty damn phenomenal one. Little was he to know it came with an extra weight, one in the size and shape of one Richie Tozier. Even more to his surprise was the fact that Richie, and the others, would eventually become just as important.
Communications studies started as an almost sarcastic field choice, a small part of him wanting to excel in the area just to tell his old flight school instructor to stick it. But after a couple months in, he really started to find his rhythm, the study and use of languages throughout the cosmos unfurling and dancing out in front of him, mesmerizing in their open possibilities. He became somewhat of a space transcendentalist, whiling away his free time alone waxing poetic about the future. The added bonus of slowly gaining a group of friends put the nail in the coffin of his passion. Understanding the beauty of communication and putting it to good use?
Starfleet life looked better every day for Ben Hanscom in those early years.
But right now, sitting at his station, prime culprit The Coffee Mug clutched in his hands as his crew looked at him astonished, he really wished he’d never joined.
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authors notes: ill have to go back and fix this because i’m scrambling to post it before work, but here you guys go! sorry i haven’t posted content in so long!
tagslist: @s-s-stutteringbill @gazeboseddie @misssiriusblack @mythgirl96 @crackhousetozier @reddieaddict @wincestklaine @beepbeep-losers @ayyyymichele @ttrxshmouth @megelizabethvh @tapetayloe @flickerflies @ghostbustermike @i-is-gazebo @reddiesetrichie @jessicarayheyman @r-u-reddiee @wyttolff @gayzier @hanscombeverly @kaspbrak-is-our-king @mikedenbrough @28shoes @nicoperryy @kinghanscom @eddiecare @shadysandi @fyeahreddie
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listen Liza ... if this is too vague you don’t have to do it but I’m real sad today like sad hannah hours are here and it feels like they’re here to stay so if you could like ... write me some reddie fluff. I’d die. like the fluffiest fluff imaginable. I’m talking cuddles and play/tickle fights and just cute boyfs doing cute things pls & thx if you decide to do this ily :)
i am NOT OKAY WITH HANNAH BEING SAD!!!!!! so here’s fluffy sweet boys bc i love them and i love you!!!! sorry this took so long ): i put on soft jazz and got too soft abt soft husbands and now im really emotional about professor richie and his mechanic husband having stay at home vacations in their fancy two level a-frame. so um here’s this totally self indulgent soft mess bc im SOFT.
Undercurrent (wc: 1.2k)
Mellow, quiet instrumentals hit Richie’s ears as soon as he pulled his front door open. He closed it quietly behind him, toeing off his shoes and leaving them on the rack. His fingers quickly found the knot of his tie, pulling it loose to free him from the constricting weight it placed on his neck. He glanced around the open-plan first floor of the home he shared with his lover, the boy he’d held in his arms since fourteen years old, unable to spot the man in question. The notes drifting to him seemed to come from beyond the room, but weren’t floating from upstairs. Smiling to himself as he deduced the location of his love, he slipped off one sock at a time, leaving a trail of smelly garments through their kitchen. When he reached the french doors to the back patio, he ditched the tie completely, hanging it around one of the doorknobs. Next came the belt, mirroring the other’s position on the opposite side. Once both knobs were adorned, Richie grabbed them both and flung the doors open with fervor.
From his position atop a plastic floating island in the center of their pool, his husband raised his eyes to greet him. Eddie sat in swim shorts, the muted yellow ones that drove Richie downright insane, sunglasses perched on the edge of his nose and a mammoth of a novel grasped in his hands. The summer sun illuminated his evenly tanned skin in a honey warm glow, each freckle standing out just so, adding shading and dimension to his tone. His hair held a kaleidoscope of chocolates and caramels, silken smooth to the touch as he knew so well from all the years running his fingers through it. After a day drowning in dissertations and essays written by students who’d never once learned MLA, the sight was an oasis for his worn out eyes. He sighed contentedly, barely taking in Eddie’s look of surprise at the interruption. Near the edge of the pool deck, the outdoor speaker disguised as a garden gnome Richie had purchased a few years previous was unleashing dulcet tones of light jazz through their yard and home. The sound relaxed him to his bones, everything about the world around him in that moment screaming-
“You’re home.” Eddie’s voice shone through a smile.
“I’m home.” Richie nodded. “You look comfortable.”
“I’m having some me time.” Eddie smirked conspiratorially. “Care to join?” He closed the book after marking his page, making as if to paddle to the edge.
“Stay right there.” Richie held up a hand, before reaching up to remove his glasses. He folded them and threw them carelessly onto the cushy lawn near his feet, before bending to roll up the ankles of his pants. “I’d love to.”
“How were classes today?” Eddie asked, leaning back on the support of the float he rested on.
“Same as always. Enjoying your staycation?” Richie smiled as he straightened back up.
“More so now that you’re home.” Eddie peered at him over the rim of his sunglasses playfully.
“Yeah,” Richie shrugged his shoulders, rolling his arms a bit, his tone almost apologetic. “I’m gonna have to make you regret that comment.”
“What-” Eddie started, squinting at Richie in confusion for a moment, before fear quickly replaced it as Richie ran at the pool, full-tilt. He had no time to protest before the man was cannon-balling in next to him, fully clothed. The waves from the impact sent Eddie toppling, book and sunglasses reluctantly joining him. He came up for air as quickly as he could, spotting Richie nearby following suit, shaking his sopping curls as he belly-laughed.
“RICHARD!” Eddie yelled, splashing another stream of water in Richie’s flushed face. He only laughed more as he swam over, arms enveloping Eddie’s midsection as he treaded water. “You knocked my book in!”
“I’ll buy you a new one.” He brushed off the worry, the soggy book in question floating past his head as he swam backwards, pulling Eddie to the section of the pool where Richie could reach and he couldn’t. “C’mere, Spaghetti.” He said in his soft, velvety voice he always used when he was being particularly needy. Eddie still kept up his protests, feebly wiggling to try and escape the grip, but Richie only held him closer, eyes closed as he nuzzled at Eddie’s exposed chest.
“That was an expensive book, Rich.”
“Lucky for you I happen to have some money.” Richie kissed at his collar bone, the heat from the sun still radiating from Eddie’s skin and warming him to his core. “You’re just so easy to get baby, I had to.”
“Well I was happy you were home.” Eddie griped, body betraying his tone as his arms and legs began to snake around his lover and interlock, the heels of his feet meeting soaking wet denim, his hands running over a button up that the chlorine would most definitely end up ruining. But as with every thing else in life, Richie was simply undeterred by the small things. It was what enamored Eddie so much from the start; if Richie wanted something, he went for it, minutiae be damned. He’d destroy a million articles of clothing if it meant he could get Eddie in his arms.
“Shut up, you love me.” Richie leaned up to meet his gaze, squinting at him slightly as his eyesight dictated he need do.
“I sure do.” Eddie smiled into the kiss they suddenly shared, Richie’s lips against his both simultaneously a surprise and not. Even when he wasn’t prepared for one, every kiss they shared felt as natural and as necessary as breathing. It was the air in his lungs.
“Five whole days, just the two of us. Nowhere to go and nothing to do.” Richie mumbled against his lips, swaying them slightly to the song as Eddie held him closer.
“We should have sex in the pool.” Eddie suggested after a beat. Richie barked out a laugh.
“Two questions,” He said through the residual giggles. “One: is that a serious suggestion, and two, if so, canwerightnowplease?” He started peppering Eddie’s face with smacking kisses, making sure to hit every freckle he could find. Eddie laughed along with him, face scrunching up with his smile. Richie relented his attack to watch his appearance, drinking in as much of it as he could manage before Eddie stopped laughing, returning Richie’s gaze with a slightly mischievous expression.
“Why don’t you find out if I mean it?” He challenged, hands snaking up into Richie’s mangled locks, grin cracking open as Richie peered at him.
“Why, you saucy little minx.” He mocked, his best Barney Stinson voice on full display. Eddie laughed again, shaking his head.
“You’ve been watching too much How I Met Your Mother.” He rested his forehead against Richie’s, his whole body relaxing again as Richie swayed.
“Yeah, well, who’s gonna get laid tonight, huh?” He shimmied his shoulders, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“Not you if you keep bragging like that.” Eddie said sternly, earning a pout.
“But honey-bun, I missed ya all day!”
“Whining doesn’t help.” Eddie shrugged, enjoying the hell out of how easy it was to get Richie so mopey and craving his attention.
“What about this, then?” His face suddenly breaking out into a smug look, before surging up to meet Eddie with a passionate kiss. He sighed and melted into it, the summer sun and gentle music lulling him into a pliant state. Hey, so what if the gnome has to see some things it can’t unsee, he figured. It’s my fucking vacation.
________________________________________________________________
tagging my tagslist bc im highkey proud of this one:
@stennbrough @s-s-stutteringbill @gazeboseddie @misssiriusblack @mythgirl96 @crackhousetozier @reddieaddict @wincestklaine @beepbeep-losers @ayyyymichele @ttrxshmouth @megelizabethvh @tapetayloe @flickerflies @ghostbustermike @i-is-gazebo @reddiesetrichie @jessicarayheyman @r-u-reddiee @wyttolff @gayzier @hanscombeverly @kaspbrak-is-our-king @hufflepuffbill @28shoes @nicoperryy @kinghanscom @reddiefanfic @kaspwitch
#prior.txt#prior.fic#reddie#hannah im never ok w/ u bein sad ):<#i must fix always#i hope this is along the lines of what u wanted!!!!
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“Quitting time at the plant. Time for supper now. Time for families. Time for a cool drink on a porch. Time for the quiet rustle of leaf-laden trees that screen out the moon. And underneath it all, behind the eyes of the men, hanging invisible over the summer night, is a horror without words. For this is the stillness before storm. This is the eve of the end.”
a twilight zone inspired one shot
based on the episode “third from the sun”
this is my it fandom secret admirer gift exchange (@itfandomsecretadmirers) present for @reddiesetrichie ! i hope you enjoy this piece, and i hope this is close enough to your interests i not so sneakily asked you about (x so sorry this is late! i hate being an adult with a job asdikkfdckj
pairings: reddie, stenbrough, benverly
word count: 12.5k
warnings: swearing, allusions to sexual activity, smoking/drinking, mild depictions of violence + to avoid spoilers, i will say only that this piece centers around a fairly heavy political subject. please proceed with caution as you read as this may be upsetting to those easily upset by political turmoil. remember that this is fiction & for fun, don’t stress yourself out/upset yourself over it! i won’t be offended if you don’t read bc it is too heavy. this is in no way intended to be a proclamation of something to come (i mean only that im not trying to say i think this is going to happen; im not trying to scare you. this is just based on the episode, and that’s what it happens to be about. this was written in the 60s for the sole purpose of being an interesting and compelling piece of sci fi. im using it for the same thing) this is getting long winded but basically, if you have any questions about content before you read, shoot me an ask and i’ll tell you privately bc i don’t want to spoil the twist for anyone. i just thought it would be really fun to do a twilight zone au, but this show can be very thought provoking, sometimes in a scary way.
the twilight zone is available on hulu, netflix and cbs all access! i recommend watching the ep before (or after, if you don’t want spoilers!) reading this piece but its not necessary! heres a link to the ep free online if you have none of those services, but the picture is off center so i recommend the services over this! + the opening theme to get you in the mood!
youtube
Richie Tozier sighed, shifting his identification card from one hand to the other in impatience. The sun had just began its descent from its highest point in the sky, and the heat of the afternoon started to seep into his skin through the heavy work suit he was wearing. Why his supervisors insisted they come to the factory is full dress attire was beyond him, but it was his own fault for leaving the suit jacket on. It was quittin’ time after all; he could just take it off. Perhaps it was the nervousness and distractions of the day that made him disregard the possibility altogether.
To say his mind was not on the task at hand would be quite the understatement. He could barely count with both hands the number of pieces he’d fudged the fabrication of; his average was usually two or three, but on this day, he knew he’d reached double digits. He almost laughed to himself, catching his mind thinking of the next weekly review; his boss, red-faced and shaking, telling him off for wasting materials. It would be quite a sight, quite a sight for a laugh, if it ever came to be.
Yes, he almost laughed to himself.
Almost.
“Mills, Germ Warfare Research.” The bored voice of the gate guard cut off his wandering thoughts as he stepped forward in line. The man in front of him had his card read and his person pursued for any out of place items or (as he knew was the real protocol) smuggled machinery by the two uniformed men minding the exit from the factory grounds. No matter the department, the employees at the facility were all funneled in a single file line through the one break in the fence, each required to show their employment I.D. upon entering and exiting the property. Richie flicked his own identification card between his fingers in impatience as he waited for the man in front of him to be cleared and begin his trek to the parking lot.
The man cleared the way, and Richie stepped forward, handing his card to the guard on his left.
“Tozier, Hydrogen Armament.” He read aloud, as the guard across from him checked Richie’s name off of a numbered list on his clipboard. “You fellas are getting pretty busy up there, aren’t ya?” The guard questioned conversationally as Richie returned his card to his breast pocket.
“Very.” Richie replied curtly, not wanting to continue the conversation. He stepped out of the line, off to the side of the path of the cars. He knew he should be rushing to get to his vehicle, he knew he shouldn’t be lingering on the premises; but he also knew his supervisor, Mr. Bowers, was just a few feet away, eyeing him suspiciously. I must maintain some image of normalcy, he thought to himself. Deciding it would be best to stick with his usual habits, he reached into the same pocket his card resided in to extract a cigarette and match from their respective packets. His nervous fingers brushed his departmentally issued employee identification button, the numbers that dictated his employee profile printed largely on the face. He sighed heavily, exhaling the smoke from his first drag, attempting to quell any physical signs of his fear that could possibly be showing.
“Hold that light, will you, Tozier?” A voice from over his shoulder jarred him as he went to shake out the match. Suddenly a hand was gripped around his wrist, raising the match towards the tip of another cigarette. The mouth behind the butt and the statement belonged to none other than Bowers himself.
“Long day, wasn’t it?” Bowers said calmly, exhaling his drag as he let Richie extinguish the match. “They’ve got us going full blast, on our end.”
Richie barely dared to give him a nod, averting his gaze as he pinched the end of his cigarette and raised it to his mouth.
“It’s coming, boy.” Richie gritted his teeth at the petty nickname, one Bowers had been using to demean him ever since he’d been hired at the plant. “It’s really coming. A big one, too.” Bowers glanced around conspiratorially. “Even now, as we’re speaking, I’ll bet you anything they’re gearing up.”
Richie swallowed nervously, taking a deep pull with slightly shaking fingers.
Bowers finally looked over at Richie, making eye contact, a frightening edge to his gaze.
“Talk is forty eight hours.”
Richie felt his blood run cold.
“Wait and see if I’m wrong.” Bowers continued, an almost goading tone to his voice as Richie took another neurotic drag. “Forty eight hours, and then…” Bowers’ expression was nearing a sneer, as he raised a hand and mimicked a projectile flying. “Whoosh..” He added the sound effect, opening his closed fist like the opening flower of bomb bay doors on the bottom of a plane. Richie watched his gesture with a clenched jaw, his trepidation and anger growing as Bowers’ fingers continued to stretch open, accentuating his boss’s apathy over the situation. “Then, there goes the enemy.”
“And what are they doing in the meantime?” Richie’s temper got the better of himself, pulling the interjection from his closed teeth, even as his mind screamed at him not to speak, not to reveal his truth.
“What do you mean what are they doing?” Bowers gave him a cross look. “Retaliating, of course, though not nearly in the same fashion as us.” He gave a small, crass laugh. “Big fucking waste of time, you ask me.” Bowers took another drag of his still-lit cigarette. Richie finished his off and crushed it under his heel, trying to push all of his anger out of the bottom of his feet so as to prevent himself from putting in his two cents again. “We get ours in first, then they can’t do much.”
“The can respond, with their own ‘whoosh…’” Richie found himself speaking again, barely able to disguise the frustration and disgust in his voice, the only thing keeping him from repeating Bowers’ gesture was his tightly clenched fist, which he refused to release.
“Oh, they can.” Bowers nearly shrugged, taking another pull. “But not so accurately. Not so powerfully.”
“Then instead of losing a million people, we lose a hundred thousand.” Richie said hardly, his voice rising in anger.
“Dangerous words there Tozier.” Bowers made eye contact again, his gaze piercing. “Not a defeatist, are you?” Richie made no move to respond, only returning the look. “You better watch what you say.”
“And what I think, too.” Richie bit back with a raise of his eyebrows, challenging almost.
“And what you think.” Bowers rejoined.
Richie huffed. “Goodnight, Bowers.” He leaned in, just enough to be in Bowers’ space. “See you tomorrow?” He said pointedly.
Bowers didn’t reply as he watched Richie retreat to his vehicle.
He just... observed.
________________________________________________________________
A light, airy tune floated upstairs as Eddie Tozier (nee Kaspbrak) busied himself with his workload. He could visualize easily in his head his husband downstairs, drink in hand and hips swaying casually to the beat as he began to unwind from a long day at work. Richie would have just arrived home, car parked safely in the garage, tie possibly still yet to be undone, hands still slightly greasy from the machines as he poured his favorite scotch. Eddie smiled at the thought as the music grew a bit louder, and decided that he should make the vision become his reality.
Taking the stairs nearly two at a time, the undone top buttons of his shirt causing the collar to open a bit in the breeze his momentum caused, Eddie rushed down to greet his husband as he did every day.
He was greeted by the sight of Richie, drink in hand, record turning lazily in their player, his back to the stairs.
Two things instantly alerted Eddie that something was off. The first: Richie’s glass contained a considerably greater amount of the amber liquid than his usual. Richie had been a heavy drinker in their youth, and after a particularly nasty bout of alcohol-centered arguments Richie had given in and placed himself on a strict regimen of limitation. The second: he was not, as he always, always did, swaying to his music.
Eddie’s smile fell as he adjusted the spectacles that had been jostled on his way downstairs, pushing the center further up his nose with his middle finger. He pushed his rolled sleeves up just a bit more, a strange way of preparing himself to comfort his husband. He then approached Richie from behind, preparing his winning smile that Richie always maintained could cut through every stressor in his life.
Eddie only prayed that now, it could do its job.
“Hey there, handsome.” Eddie said kindly, sliding a hand around Richie’s waist as he tucked himself into Richie’s side.
“Hey, baby.” Richie turned to him, a pleasant but obviously forced smile plastered on his face. He pulled Eddie into a distracted kiss, setting his drink down and snaking his arms around Eddie’s middle to pull him close. “Where’s Mike?” He asked, pulling away all too soon.
“Outside, begging the new peonies to sprout.” Eddie joked. Mike was their best friend from college, housemate, and avid gardener, who had insisted on landscaping their entire yard. Richie looked towards their sliding glass door that lead to the side garden, and made a move to exit, dropping his hands from Eddie’s back.
“Oh, no you don’t. Not before our dance.” Eddie pouted, placing Richie’s hands back on his own hips and linking his around the taller man’s neck. Richie gave him a ragged smile, for a moment considering joining him in their well practiced sway, but after a moment removed Eddie’s hands and held them in his own, between their chests.
“Some other time, honey. Promise.” Richie said quietly, before releasing Eddie’s hands, picking up his glass, and crossing to the player, turning the music off.
Eddie watched in quiet awe as Richie looked again to the door, then appeared to have thought better of it before crossing the room and sitting heavily on the couch. Richie had never been able to say no to a dance.
“Rich.” Eddie said, concern written plainly on his face and in his speech, as he moved quickly to sit on the coffee table across from his worn out husband.
“Yes, dear?” Richie joked half-heartedly, placing a hand absentmindedly on Eddie’s knee as he took a sip of his drink.
“What’s going on with you?” He placed his hand on top of Richie’s, giving him a pleading look. It was unlike Richie to behave this way, but even more unlike him to admit why. Eddie steeled himself, determined to get an answer out of the man. Richie had been a bit more tense as of late, but had often been fine after a nice massage or a particularly satisfying night spent in bed. But this nervousness and distance he placed Eddie in was downright out of character, and he needed to know exactly what the cause was, so he could destroy it.
“Nothing serious, Eds.” Richie offered that same thin smile, and it set Eddie’s jaw in frustration. Just as he was about to lay into the man, Mike came in through the sliding glass door, wiping the sweat off his brow with a rag.
“Afternoon Rich, how was work?” He called over his shoulder after he spotted Richie, crossing into their kitchen to grab a glass of water.
“Work.” Richie said in a strange tone, taking another drink. “Hey, Mike?” He said after a pause, as the other man appeared in the doorway.
“Yeah?”
“I’m gonna invite everyone over for cards tonight. You’ll be here, right? Bill will want to see you.”
Eddie furrowed his brow, looking from Mike to Richie in confusion. They usually played cards on Fridays…
“Actually, guys, I uh…” Mike paused, taking a nervous sip of his water. “I have a date.” He said with a sheepish smile. “Maybe I could get home a little early, but..” His smile grew, obviously lost in thought of how his date might go.
“Call it off?” Richie said suddenly, worry briefly painting his features, and Eddie’s jaw all but dropped at the sight. On any other day in their normal universe where Richie was his Richie, smiling, joking, often highly inappropriate Richie, there would be congratulations and jokes about ‘making it’ and conspiratorial high-fives between him and his good friend. But here in this strange, hell universe where Richie was changing before Eddie’s very eyes into Richard Wentworth Tozier, a serious man, an alien on his couch where his husband should be, he was asking Mike to cancel a date.
“Rich, I- we’ve been planning this for awhile now, I’m very fond of her-” Mike said, rightfully flabbergasted.
“Please, Mike. I’ve had a terrible day. I’d like a night for us. Everyone, together again.” Richie pressed, giving Mike a solemn look. When he seemed hesitant, Richie extended his plea in a small voice. “Please, Mike? Just us losers.” A small smile at the end.
Eddie and Mike shared a look of concern.
“Sure, I guess.” Mike caved.
“Wunderbar.” Richie smiled, feigning his usual playfulness with his terrible German accent. Eddie noticed straight away there was no soul behind it. “Will you call everyone for me, Michael?” He asked before knocking back the rest of his drink. “I’ve got to have a private conversation with my husband upstairs, if you catch my drift.” He added a wink, some of his old energy creeping back into the conversation. Eddie watched the display in abject horror; this wasn’t Richie, this was a ghost trying on his clothing. No matter how much he tried to act like his rambunctious old self, with each attempt at humor Eddie’s worry grew.
Mike raised an eyebrow, finishing his water. “Sure I will. What time should I tell them?”
“Oh, around seven. Maybe earlier. Not before five, though.” Richie said as he stood and stretched, brushing off Eddie’s hand. Mike raised his eyebrows in confused concern and turned to use the phone. He almost reached it before he paused. “Wait, wasn’t Bill still out of town?”
“He got back this morning.” Richie replied, crossing to the fireplace and pulling another cigarette from his pack, before lighting it quickly.
“Really? I thought they were testing their aircraft all week-”
“They finished.” Richie said simply, his tone indicating the finality of the conversation. He had his back turned to both men as he took a long drag. Eddie stood, turning to look at Mike. Mike raised his eyebrow quizzically, to which Eddie responded with a shake of his head.
I’ll find out. Eddie mouthed to Mike. The other man nodded, and left to make the calls.
Richie finished about half of his cigarette before extinguishing it in the ashtray atop their fireplace. He then turned to exit the room, but was stopped by Eddie’s hand on his arm.
“Rich-”
“I just would like a game of cards, is all.” Richie asserted, not looking at Eddie. “Take my mind off of things.”
He pulled his arm out of Eddie’s grasp, and trudged up the stairs to their room.
“Richard.” Eddie said angrily, stopping at the bottom of the stairs with his hands on his hips. The use of the full name was usually a good way for Eddie to snap his husband back into seriousness; here it was only met with a retreating back. Richie did not stop, just continued until he hit the landing and turned to enter their bedroom, finishing his drink in the process.
Eddie huffed angrily, taking a minute to steal himself before storming up the stairs after him.
Richie stood before their bureau, idly examining a few trinkets spread across its surface. He placed his glass next to a watch their good friend Stanley had given him years ago, at the bachelors party before their wedding. Eddie watched as Richie trailed his long fingers slowly over the face, as if in attempts to memorize its texture.
“Richard.” He repeated. Richie did not turn around. “What is going on?” He demanded as he closed their door.
“Just feeling my years.” Richie said quietly, his shoulders falling.
“You’re thirty seven.” Eddie folded his arms across his chest.
“Touche.” Richie laughed to himself, catching Eddie’s gaze in the mirror above the bureau. Suddenly and without warning he turned, crossing the room easily in a couple of strides, and cupping Eddie’s surprised face in his hands. “But looking at you, dear,” He paused to kiss Eddie quickly. “Your beautiful face,” Eddie rolled his eyes, face reddening, more so as Richie peppered it with kisses. “It’s just reminding me of how old I feel…” He trailed off, gazing into Eddie’s eyes, but not looking, as though his husbands face was not truly there, not looking back at him. He looked instead as though he was glancing back through a pinhole, nostalgia and want written on his features, as his eyes saw not the man in front of him, but the boy he fell in love with. He saw Eddie now as he always did then; young, freckled, glowing. Memories swirled around him abstractly, no specific events coming to mind but rather an amalgamation of the years he’d passed. He thought briefly this was what it must be to have your life flash before your eyes.
After all, he was a dying man.
Eddie watched the display in a cocktail of wonder and horror.
“Richard, I need you to tell me what’s happening.” He said in a near whisper. “I- I don’t know if it’s work, but-”
“No, no, not work.” Richie shook his head, his fondness suddenly dropping off into exasperation as he released his grip on Eddie’s face. “It’s just work, it’s fine.”
“It doesn’t fucking seem like that.” Eddie’s voice raised as Richie turned around again, a hand sliding nervously through his hair.
“It’s just work! I’m just a cog in a machine baby, just a fucking part of the whole damned thing-”
“Richard-”
“Do you know how many men it takes to build a bomb, Edward?” Richie turned back suddenly, a dangerous expression in his eye as he stared down Eddie, still not seeing him. Eddie stared back in shock, bewildered by the strange question and terrified by the expression and the use of his name. Richie never called him Edward, not even in their worst fights, just when he was joking.
“What?” He sputtered, when it seemed the question was apparently un-rhetorical.
“Hundreds. Thousands maybe. I make lugnuts all day, babe, one fucking piece. Someone else cools them down. I operate the press, that’s all I do. All the other tiny pieces and functions, all of them need another person. Construction, assembly, execution… when it’s all said and done there’s so many of us. I’m just one piece. I just pull one lever….” By the end he’d worked himself into a frenzy, hands shaking as they pulled at errant strands of his barely-controlled hair, the curls Eddie had come to love so dearly over all these years protesting angrily against the gel applied that morning. Eddie wanted to jump back to that moment, Richie sitting in his trousers on the end of their bed, shirtless and smiling as Eddie worked the stuff through his hair, jokingly trying to distract him by snapping the waistband of Eddie’s boxers as he tried in vain to control the unruly locks. He wanted to go back so badly, and hold close the man he loved before he could turn into the one he saw now, frightened and frenzied as he rambled nonsense, pacing the self same room. He could not find an answer in his mind as to why his husband had come so undone; but then, he supposed he should have seen it coming, noticed it sooner. Even in that memory of the morning, even in Richie’s light smirk as he snapped the elastic for the twelfth time and looked up at Eddie, he should have seen that heaviness in his eyes. In retrospect he could see it; for weeks now, it had been there.
“If you think of it that way,” Richie continued, more so to himself. “I’m- not solely responsible…”
“Responsible for what?” Eddie pleaded, shocked by the urgency in his own tone. “Rich, please, what is this about?”
Richie stood, one hand still on his forehead, looking off to the corner of the room.
“Please. Please speak to me.” Eddie begged, stepping closer and taking Richie’s hand in his own, using the other to make Richie look at him. “Tell me what has you so afraid. I- I can see it’s been plaguing you. For some time now.” Eddie swallowed, thoughts racing. “I’ve been- I’ve been frightened too. For awhile now. I couldn’t explain it if you asked but- there’s something in the atmosphere. Like this weight, this… wordless terror. I’ve seen it in others; especially in you. Please. Please tell me. Give it a name, Richard.” He stressed the latter, almost shaking Richie’s face as he held it in his hand, eyes searching the others for some give.
“Fear.” Richie muttered to himself as he placed his hands on Eddie’s arms, still staring at the spot on the carpet.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying, Rich. What is everyone so afraid of?” Eddie pleaded quietly, his hand trailing from Richie’s cheek to his chest, where his fingers brushed the button that proclaimed the numbers that dictated his husband. His Richie, complex, creative, beautiful Richie, reduced to a code. A cog in a machine.
“People are afraid because they make themselves afraid.” Richie said darkly, his tone shifting as he finally made eye contact with Eddie. His grip on the smaller mans arms tightened, and as he spoke he jostled Eddie a bit, his anger and frustration growing with each thought. “Because they do it to themselves, Edward, because they can’t just leave good enough alone. Because they have to take every inch they can possibly have, because there’s no compromise-”
“Chee, you’re frightening me-” Eddie breathed, attempting to pull Richie out of his trance with the pet name.
“Because no one makes any attempts at diplomacy anymore, because they’d rather play dice with our lives than pull their heads out of the sand-” Richie barreled on, Eddie’s feeble words falling on deaf ears as the taller man kept gripping, kept shaking him. “They’re afraid because now- now when it’s too late, far too late to change, to turn back, now they’re asking why-”
“RICHARD!” Eddie found himself shouting, shocking both of them, Richie’s anger lifting and being replaced with surprise, as he looked down at Eddie’s hands fisted in his lapels and gulped, realizing how tightly he held Eddie’s upper arms and letting go immediately, rubbing his hands over the muscles apologetically.
“Baby- I’m sorry-”
“What is this about?!” Eddie returned the jostle, desperately hoping he could shake an answer out of the man.
“I guess it’s too late for vagueness…” Richie nearly whispered, eyes roaming Eddie’s face.
Eddie huffed in frustration. “It sure fucking is.”
“It’s coming.” Richie said suddenly.
Eddie’s blood ran cold.
“No..” He breathed, feeling his knees go weak.
“It’s coming baby, sooner than anyone predicted.”
Eddie shook his head in denial, Richie’s arms around his back now the only thing holding him up.
“We have forty-eight hours.” Richie said solemnly, his eyes as grey as graves.
Eddie’s knees hit the floor.
“It- it can’t be-”
“It is.” Richie repeated, kneeling to pull Eddie back up into a standing position, his limp body refusing to cooperate.
“How- how bad?” Eddie caught his eyes, not moving, not allowing himself to be moved. Richie gathered his strength, both to haul Eddie up to the foot of the bed at least, and to say the heavier truth.
“Bad.” He said simply as he man-handled his husband to their bed. He sat down gingerly next to him, letting the smaller man rest his weight on him. “It’ll be the end… of everything. All of it. Our life as we know it… Gone. It’ll be a holocaust.”
Eddie could feel the world underneath him tipping and swirling as he tried to rationalize what Richie was saying. He knew that the situation was tense, that the enemy had their finger over the trigger-
The enemy, he scolded himself. No one is the enemy. There are no sides in a war that destroys us all.
He used what little strength he could muster to look up at Richie.
“What do we do?” He whispered, his voice shaking. He almost thought he might cry, but he was too shocked to form tears.
Richie raised a hand to cradle Eddie’s face, keeping it there so they could lock their gazes on each other, to help ground him.
“We’re getting out of here.” He said quietly, Eddie’s eyes widening. “Bill and I, we’ve devised a plan. The two of us, Mike, Bill and Stanley, Ben and Beverly and the kids too. We’re all getting out of here.”
“Where?” Eddie insisted, flabbergasted. If it was as bad as they’d been threatened, as bad as Richie had claimed, as bad as he had imagined, there’d be nowhere to go.
“I can’t tell you.” Richie said cryptically, instantly earning an expression of anger. “Baby, Eddie, I can’t tell you but you have to trust me. We’re leaving, tonight.” He squeezed the hand cupped around Eddie’s cheek, running his thumb over his cheekbone. “Between midnight and one, we have to be gone. Then we’re getting out of here.” Eddie just looked at him, fear freezing him down to his bones. “You can’t say anything, to anyone. Not even Mike, or the others. Bill and Ben are the only ones who know so far, and we’ve only just told Ben. But you can’t say anything.” Richie looked deep into his eyes, and Eddie nodded robotically. “What we’re doing… it’ll be dangerous. Anyone could be- could be on to us. They could be listening-”
“Richie, hey!” Mike’s voice suddenly filled the house, causing Eddie to nearly jump out of his skin. “Bill’s here to see you!” He continued as Richie wrapped his arms protectively around his frightened lover.
“I’m coming, tell him it’ll be a minute.” Richie called back, his loud voice strange against the heavy quietness that had been with them in the room.
“Chee…” Eddie sobbed dryly into Richie’s shoulders.
“Shhh… hey, I’ve got you.” Richie mumbled, rubbing a hand up and down Eddie’s back to soothe him. “Eds, it’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you.” Eddie shook his head, shivers wracking his body as the weight of his fate set in. “Baby, I have to go talk to Bill, but I’ll be back, I’ll be right back.” He gently pulled Eddie upright, wiping away the one tear that had managed to fall. “I need you to be strong for me. For yourself.” He stressed, a hand on Eddie’s knee. “I know you can, dear, you’ve always been. We can do this.”
“I’m so- I’m so frightened, Rich.”
“I am too. But you have to trust me; Bill and I have a plan. We’re going to make it. All of us; we’ll make it.”
Eddie watched, as though underwater, as Richie leaned over and kissed his forehead, before standing and leaving the room. He watched; drowning.
________________________________________________________________
“Well, buddy, you better have some fuckin’ fantastic work stories for tonight, I had to cancel a date for this.” Mike was saying with a laugh as Richie came down the stairs. He locked eyes with Bill over Mike’s shoulder, catching the same look of thinly-veiled worry that had been staring back at him in the mirror the past few days. They nodded to each other as Mike excused himself and left the room.
“Bill.” Richie said curtly, glancing out of a window near his front door.
“Rich.” Bill rejoined, shaking his head slightly to indicate they weren’t in the clear.
“You and Stan are still coming over tonight, right? Mike got ahold of you?”
“Sure did.” Bill said nervously, almost reverting back to the boyish stutter of his youth. “Wouldn’t miss it. Stan says he’s on a winning streak.”
Richie gave a curt laugh, before raising an eyebrow questioningly. “I’m sure I won’t hear the end of it, then.” He kept his tone conversational, plain, and unconcerned.
“He’ll be taking all your chips tonight, either way.” Bill said with a fake laugh as he tugged on his earlobe. Richie got the hint, glancing toward the window again. The slight rustle of a low hanging tree branch was enough to confirm his suspicion. Glancing around for inspiration, his eyes landed on the watch on Bill’s left arm.
“Say, Bill, S’at the watch Stanley got you for your anniversary?” Richie cocked his head towards the garage door.
“Sure is, made by his father, same as yours.” Bill nodded.
“Looks like it’s speeding up again, want me to take a look?”
“Sure, sure.”
The two kept their eyes locked on any open window they passed as they made their way into the garage, where Mike had set up his gardening bench, and Eddie had built his workstation. Eddie worked at a local chinaware store making ceramic figurines, each a tiny, intricate masterpiece. Richie took a moment to admire the small delicate pieces, the wonderful figures each holding the magic that he knew exuded from Eddie’s fingertips. These figurines were one of the things Richie found himself repeatedly falling in love with over and over again. Eddie never failed to amaze him with the things he could create. Every time he set about his work he would come out the other side with a magnum opus. Of course the man was always ridiculously humble about the affair, always blushing and brushing off Richie’s praises, but when he was at the bench, back hunched, glasses on the tip of his nose and his face scrunched up in concentration, he was a God in his element, and no amount of protest would ever convince Richie to think otherwise.
The reverie was ripped from his mind at the sound of Bill closing the door, the click of the latch as it slotted into place disrupting him.
“Rich, we’ve gotta change our plans.” Bill blurted urgently.
“Not yet.” Richie mumbled, eyes still on the line of figurines scattered across the work surface, a hand raised to silence Bill. He ignored Bill’s look of urgency and crossed to the bench, a hand trailing over it’s surface, before his eyes found the answer he was searching for.
Flipping the switch for Eddie’s fine sander, he turned to face Bill with a nod. The sound of the machine filled the room, as Bill crossed over to the bench to stand with him. Richie picked up one of the tools left out on the bench and gestured for the watch, fiddling with it and pretending to fix it.
“Okay, Bill. What’s happened.” He muttered under his breath, just so that he was barely audible to Bill underneath the hum of the sander.
“The guard we paid off- he’s had his shift shortened. He contacted me just a bit ago; he’s gonna be off at eleven instead of one.” Bill basically whispered, nervously watching Richie’s hands as they fidgeted.
“So we move it up a couple hours, big deal.” Richie feigned a shrug, his skittish swallow betraying him.
“Yeah right it’s a big deal, it’s gonna be a lot harder to pull off, you know there’ll be more guards on the field-”
“And if any of those guards stop us to ask, we’ll tell them we’re your family come to see the ships you work on.” He fixed Bill with a serious, placating look, steeling himself. Bill gulped.
“You think it’ll work?”
“It’s got to.”
“Does Eddie know?”
“I’ve just told him. Stan?”
“I have a.. A plan, to tell him… roundaboutly.”
“Mike doesn’t know.”
“Beverly got it out of Ben, but they didn’t speak of it in front of the kids. As long as they were careful…”
“Let’s just keep it that way, yeah? I wasn’t gonna tell Eds, but he looked like he would have about killed me if I kept talking cryptic… Maybe Stan and Mike should just…” Richie trailed off with a sigh. “God, does it even matter now? We just need to get through the evening, and if we’re only seeing each other…”
“Your point is sound Rich, but…” Bill’s fingers flew up to his earlobe again. “We both know there’s still some risk.”
Richie nodded, looking down at the watch and tool in his hands. He set both down on the bench and instead picked up one of the figures perched there. Eddie kept a small framed photo of the two of them at their wedding, surrounded by the rest of their group of friends, on the bench near his workstation. Bill, to Eddie’s right, a proud best man, and Stanley, on Richie’s left, Bill’s counterpart at the ceremony. Next to Bill was Beverly, red hair cascading and held tight in the grip of her then eight month old daughter Amelia, her proud father Ben on Bev’s other side, drink in hand and face frozen in a beaming smile. Beside Stanley stood Mike, a flower from his garden in his lapel, the arrangements on all the tables, and the boutineers of all the attending men in the wedding party. Each of them had a look of elation shining out of their faces, from Beverly’s crooked but blindingly white teeth to Eddie’s squinted eyes behind his spectacles. The wedding had taken place during the brief period in their timeline where they’d both had glasses; just before Richie’s laser surgery and just after Eddie had jokingly tried on Richie’s specs to find he desperately needed them. Richie’s eyes behind the thick frames were magnified, and in them he saw only love. His face was turned down towards Eddie’s, watching the smaller man laugh. He remembered the jab he’d just given Eddie’s side, trying to elicit a tickle-induced giggle for the camera. Richie studied his own face more. Written plainly alongside the endless stream of affection for the boy next to him was also another fountain; one of hope, of power, of bright longing for a future. The man that had gotten married that day had done so with determination to make that lovelight last. He had sworn that day he would love Eddie until he was a dying man, but had failed to consider just how soon that could come upon him.
Next to the photo was a small collection of figures Eddie had saved at Richie’s behest, one’s Richie had insisted were his best works and should be kept at home, instead of wasted in the outside world. Richie knew Eddie had only really kept them to get Richie to stop harassing him about it, but at this moment he was damn thankful to have won that fight. The one clutched in his hand was a small, vanilla painted bear, one Eddie had made clear back in the beginning of his career. It was misshapen in some places, and the paint was faded and uneven, but it was by far Richie’s favorite piece of Eddie’s. He loved it so much mostly because of the way Eddie had beamed when he had finished it, the way he had shyly handed it over to Richie and said Chee look I finished one, the way he had literally glowed with happiness as Richie lifted him in a swirling hug, laughing and kissing his face with praise. He remembered that moment every time he glimpsed the bear that sat on the bench, or sometimes their nightstand, or on the kitchen table. It was sometimes moved around, picked up on a whim and set down absentmindedly. Over the years Richie had developed quite the habit of moving knickknacks when he was unfocused.
Richie looked down at the bear in his palm, and closed his fist around it in determination. He suddenly stuffed it in is pocket, reaching out to grab the other six that sat near it. A bird, a bouquet, a bible, a key, a bicycle, and a slim silvery-black painted miniature vinyl record Eddie had given Richie for a gift one anniversary. In the shuffle it had made its way down here, along with the others, and was now joining them in the lining of Richie’s pockets. He then picked up the frame and began detaching the back, fingers trying to prize it open as Bill watched in slight confusion.
“The plan stays the same.” Richie said, still quiet under the buzzing machine, as he freed the photo from the frame. “We do everything the same, but we leave at ten.”
Bill watched him tensely as he folded the picture and placed it in the breast pocket of the suit jacket he still wore. “Okay. I’ll tell Ben when I get home.”
“Don’t. I’ll tell him when he gets here for cards. Just make sure they’re all packed.” He tapped a finger on the outside of the pocket. “You and Stan too.”
Bill nodded, fingers slowly moving to pick up the watch.
“I’ll see you at seven.” Bill said quietly as Richie turned off the saw.
“Well, Bill, I think you should be okay, but you should have the old father in law check that out when you and Stan go up and see him next month.” Richie said loudly, his raised tone casual enough to be convincing but a bit jarring after the noise. “I’m no horologist, so it’s not gonna be a perfect fix, but it should hold up till then.”
Bill nodded as he strapped the watch back on his wrist. “Thanks Rich. We’ll be over around seven for cards. Hope you’re feeling lucky.” He fixed Richie with a pointed look before turning to exit. Richie took one last look at the bench, eyes scanning over the figures scattered across its top, before deciding not to grab more and following Bill out of the room.
He did not turn to look when he turned out the light, thankfully so. Because if he had, he would have seen the not so slyly hidden face of Henry Bowers as he turned slowly to watch the two men through the window.
________________________________________________________________
“I’ll take three.” Mike mumbled, sliding his discarded choices across the glass table to Ben, who reached into the deck to grab three new cards for him. Mike took a small sip of his scotch as he accepted them, sighing a bit to himself as though he was displeased with what he received. He then dropped a single green chip into their pile in the center. He nodded to Eddie, who was absentmindedly twirling his hand through his fingers.
“Oh, uh, just two.” He took a moment to rifle through his cards before tossing two to Ben. “How much did you put in?” He asked Mike quietly as he accepted his new cards.
“Five.”
Eddie grabbed one of his dwindling stash of green chips and added it to the pile before taking a long drink out of his own glass. They had collectively decided with a silent agreement to crack open the bottle of high dollar alcohol Eddie and Richie had kept since their wedding, citing they were saving it for a special occasion. It had been forgotten when Bill and Stanley’s marriage had rolled around, and decided against each time one of the girls was born, and had remained gathering dust in their curio cabinet since.
Richie had thought tonight was as good as any to polish it off.
“Four.” He said after a swallow of his own, sliding the cards past the pile of chips between he and Ben.
“That bad, huh?” Ben joked, grabbing the new cards for Richie with a small, nervous smile. Benjamin, bless his soul, the only one of them who was still trying to find some kind of lightness in all their intensity. Richie only responded with a non committal noise as he viewed his new hand.
“I fold.” He sighed, laying his cards down and draining his glass.
“Damn shame.” Bill tried a smirk, reaching to deposit his green chip in the pile without trading in any cards. “You were just starting to turn a profit.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll just have to settle it with me next week.” Richie chided, causing silence to fall over the table. Bill gave him a small, quizzical look, as Richie raised his eyes to look at him. They shared that look for a brief moment, before Richie’s words dawned on them and they proceeded to dissolve into laughter. Ben laughed a bit timidly, like he was unsure of whether or not he was allowed in on the joke. Beverly and Mike shared a look of utter confusion as Eddie turned white. Stanley gave Bill an incredulous look, but was unable to decipher exactly what it was that had set his husband off. Bev and Ben’s daughters, Amelia and Lillian, sat undisturbed by the commotion on the carpet, playing with dolls they had brought along boredly.
Eddie cleared his throat as Richie and Bill’s laughter turned from mirth to neurotic bursts. “Maybe we should put up the bottle.” He tried, reaching to the center of the table to replace the stopper. “Um, tea, anyone? I’ve got a pitcher of iced…”
“That sounds wonderful, Eddie.” Beverly caught his eye, attuned acutely to his skittish behavior. “I’ll come with you and get some water for the girls.” Eddie nodded his agreement and the two stood, Beverly gesturing to the girls to come with them as they entered the kitchen. The sound of clinking glasses and pouring liquid pierced the silence that remained around the men in the living room before being broken completely by Mike.
“Bathroom break.” He muttered as he stretched, before standing and leaving the room. Richie waited until he heard the click of the latch before reaching for the bottle in the center of the table, unstopping it, and pouring himself another full glass.
“We finished the calculations.” Bill said after a moment of watching Richie drink. He gestured to Stan, who pulled a small folded square of paper from his shirt pocket. Stan unfolded it and spread it out on the table where Richie could see. Ben hopped the empty seat between him and Stanley that Bev had vacated, and joined the others in looking down at the diagram.
“By we he means I did.” Stan griped. “And I’d still very much like to know what this is about.” Stan gave Richie a hard look.
“You haven’t told him?” Ben asked Bill, brow furrowed.
“Coming from the guy who let it slip to Beverly-”
“She is my wife, you can’t expect me to just-”
“And I am your husband, so please, enlighten me.” Stan cut off Ben, joining him in staring down Bill, who was too busy looking at Richie for defense.
“Go ahead.” Richie shrugged, taking another swig.
“Stan-”
���Here we are, tea for everyone.” Beverly’s voice interrupted Bill, who flipped the paper over quickly in front of him. “Benny, you’re in my seat.” She joked as she handed Ben his glass, handing the other in her hand to Stanley, who was still eyeing Bill for an explanation.
“Sorry dear, just conferring with my financial adviser here.” He joked, elbowing Stan good-naturedly. “He says I shouldn’t bet so high next round.”
“And you really shouldn’t need Stan to tell you that.” She laughed as she sat down in Ben’s old seat. “Common sense should have that covered.”
There was a small smattering of snorted laughter at that, as Eddie came into the room with more glasses in his hands, doling them out to the remaining guests. Richie declined his.
“We ready to get back to it?” Stan said pointedly, practically daring Bill to respond as the the girls resettled themselves on the couch, snuggling up with the arm rests as though they were going to nap. Bill only glanced at his husband apprehensively, appearing like a fish groping for air as he searched for his words. Thankfully he was saved by Richie, who was rifling through his cards impatiently before calling out.
“Mike! Hurry up! We’re gonna get started!”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Mike sighed as he turned the corner to re-enter the room, bumping into Eddie as he tried to return to his seat. “Oh, thanks.” He muttered as he accepted the drink in Eddie’s outstretched hand. He took a seat and began conversing with Richie, while Bill and Stan carried on a mumbled but heated conversation to their left, with Bev and Ben still joking around across from them.
Leaving Eddie the only one to hear the doorbell.
He froze as the small ding echoed near him. Placing his full glass on a small table in the entryway, he walked as if in a daze to their front door, not bothering to look through the peephole before flicking the lock.
“Hello-?” He said as he swung the door open, his intended end to the sentence bottoming out along with his stomach.
“Why, hello there Mr. Kaspbrak. Lovely evening isn’t it?”
The sneering face of Henry Bowers greeted him from his darkened doorway, the streetlight of their cul de sac illuminating him from behind and casting an eerie glow around his silhouette.
“Mr. Bowers…” Eddie barely managed, voice wavering as he tried to pull in a breath.
“Say, is your boy home? I have some business to discuss with him.” Henry said casually as he removed his hat.
Eddie turned to look at his friends, all distracted around the table.
“Richard?” He said in a small voice.
Richie turned to look at him over his shoulder, as well as a few of the others, whose faces all dropped as soon as they took in the sight before them.
“Mr. Bowers is here to see you.” Eddie continued, gripping the knob of the still open door as though it were a lifeline.
Richie’s curious expression was instantly replaced by one of white faced anger. He’d become no stranger to seeing Bowers at work, hell, the man was one of his superiors, he had to interact with him regularly. But it was another thing entirely for him to enter his home, as he was doing now.
They could all feel it, the memories of their youth coagulating like sludge as Bowers casually trudged across the carpet, stopping between Bill and Richie, who sat with the diagram face down between them and identical expressions of distaste as they looked up at the man. Eddie remained frozen at the door, unable to make himself move enough to swing it closed.
“Well, what have we here? A little game of cards, huh Tozier?” Henry said with a smile as he set his hat on the table, over top of the paper.
“Just a few rounds.” Richie forced himself to say, keeping his gaze on the man in front of him, no matter how much he wanted to check on his husband, still frozen at the door. He felt his blood boiling and singing under his skin, his rage over Bowers having the audacity to enter his home just barely being overridden by his terror of their plot being discovered. If Henry somehow caught them in the act, or reported them…
They’d watch the world burn from a prison cell.
He settled for clearing his throat. “Would you care for a drink?” He tried to sound as hospitable as he could.
“That would be excellent.” Henry smiled down at Richie, before turning to look at Eddie. “Does your Eddie here still make that wonderful tea?”
Eddie’s color went yellow as Richie’s jaw clenched, seething at the use of the name.
“He does. I’ll get you a glass.” Richie made to stand.
“Nonsense, he’s got it covered. Isn’t that right, Eddie?” Henry said sharply, eyes locked with Richie’s, who still sat because Henry was now far too much in his space to allow him room to stand.
Eddie stood frozen at the door, his mind fighting a million battles (first and foremost, stopping him from running out the open door altogether) before clicking back on again.
“I’ll be right back with a glass.” He closed the door, composing himself. He caught eye contact with Mike, who had been monitoring him with care. They shared their look, one perfected over many years of friendship and caring for each other, Mike’s raised eyebrow an unspoken question.
Eddie shook his head no, before disappearing into the kitchen.
“Nice night.” Henry mused as the group watched he and Richie with trepidation. The girls were settled on the couch, grateful they had gone unnoticed and hoping it would continue. Every once in awhile Ben would steal a glance at them, praying (as much as it hurt him to do so) that Henry’s attentions would stay focused on Eddie. He subconsciously reached a hand down to touch the faint scar that remained on his stomach, and remembered.
“It is indeed.” Richie responded mechanically.
“It’s a night for a tall drink on a porch. And sleep. Nothing else.” Henry gave Richie a pointed look.
“Right you are.” Bill said suddenly, trying to deflect the conversation as he watched Richie’s nostrils flare, sensing his friend’s anger was on a precipice. “Stanley and I are just about ready to head home and do just that.” Bill patted Stan’s leg, but left his hand there, hoping it would help comfort his partner, whose worry was plain. “I’ve been up north all week testing an aircraft, so I’d like to call it an early night. Haven’t gotten much sleep recently.”
“Is that aircraft the one we’ve been hearing about over in operations? The one they’ve said’s capable of even possibly leaving the atmosphere?” Henry questioned him with a raise of his brows.
“That’s uh, that’s the goal. Eventually.” Bill swallowed. “But we’re really not even close to that part yet. It’s mostly been about keeping her in the air.” He said with a timid laugh.
Eddie entered the room again, glass in hand, which was trembling as he crossed the space to give it to Henry. He reached out, slowly, doing his best to quell his quaking nerves as he extended the cup.
“Here you are.” He said, barely making eye contact with the man.
Despite his best effort, Henry took notice of his shaking hand.
“Say, Eddie, you’re a little nervous there.” Henry joked, reaching to accept the cup with one hand, the other coming up to wrap around Eddie’s wrist. Eddie’s hand shook violently, his frayed nerves betraying him. Henry removed the cup from his hold completely, the other hand turning Eddie’s arm just so, so that the jagged scar on his forearm was staring up at them. “You’re very nervous.”
Richie watched the exchange as though through a tunnel, his vision red. His mind filled to the brim with violent memories, each pulling more and more seedlings of anger out of his subconscious.
Thankfully Stanley, ever the observant friend, intervened before Richie could do something brash.
“He’s only upset over how much of their vacation money Richie’s lost to us tonight.” Stan joked. “Bill and I have been making a clean sweep.”
“I can attest to that.” Ben joined in, giving Richie a placating look. Richie missed it, his eyes locked on the hand still closed around his husband’s wrist.
“But we won’t settle it out tonight.” Bill said, looking up at Henry’s back. Bill had never been afraid to look the man in the eye, no matter how much he had tortured their ragtag gang. He only wished now he had the opportunity to. Bowers was still facing away from him, attention fully turned to the small man trapped in his grip, who was gazing at his face like it was a theatre screen displaying a particularly sickening sequence.
All his life Bill had sworn to keep any need for that expression from ever touching his friends.
“Next week. I want to give Richie here another shot.” He continued, urging the man with all his mind power to turn around.
“Next week?” Bowers turned just slightly to look at Bill over his shoulder, not releasing Eddie’s hand. “You certainly plan ahead.”
Bill swallowed, refusing to address the menacing intent in the statement. “A week? Nonsense. We play cards on a regular basis.”
“Shame you aren’t settling it tonight.” Henry shrugged. “A lot can happen in a week.”
Henry made eye contact with Richie.
“A lot can happen in forty eight hours.”
Bill’s stomach dropped.
“Not much that can sway me from collecting.” Bill managed a skittish laugh. “Though I’m sure Richie would take the gamble on that.”
“Oh I wouldn’t be surprised. I’d think Mr. Tozier here would gamble on most anything.”
Bower’s kept his eyes locked on Richie’s, his hand tightening almost imperceptibly around Eddie’s wrist.
Almost.
“Well.” The hand finally released, falling to Henry’s side. “I’d better head on home. Nice evening for a bit of a walk.” He raised the glass he had been holding and downed it quickly. He replaced it on the table, lifting his hat, his eyes on the paper underneath it. He made as if to scoop it up, but it was quickly snatched by Stanley.
“Better not lose this. I’d rather get my payment from Rich in full. He’ll swindle me, I have no doubt.” He tried to joke, but the power of it died out.
“Keep an eye on him then, lads.” Henry smiled, placing his hat back on as he turned, stopping to step even closer into Eddie’s space. “Have a good evening, Eddie.” He said lowly, eyes boring into the smaller man, who was nearly quaking. Bowers then turned fully to exit, finally stepping away from the table.
“I’ll walk you out.” Richie muttered, more so to the table than Bowers, as he stood quickly and followed the man to the door.
Henry stopped once the front door had been opened and he was stood on the porch.
“I’ll see you at the factory tomorrow?” He said pointedly, glancing down the street.
“Of course.” Richie said mechanically, imagining himself slamming the door repeatedly on the parts of Bowers that still remained in its path.
“Clear night.” Henry said as he looked up at the sky, a smattering of stars visible beyond the haze of the streetlights. He paused for a beat, clearly taking his time and enjoying letting Richie stew. He knew what his superior was doing; he got the message he was sending loud and clear. What Bower’s didn’t understand, however, was just how stubborn Richie could be. “Good night for stargazing.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Richie said quietly.
“Ever think about what it would be like? To be out in the beyond, among those stars? If there’s a life out there?” Bowers took out a cigarette and lit it.
“It’s crossed my mind once or twice.”
“Yeah.” He took a drag. “I don’t doubt it.”
With one last glance up at the sky, he walked away, a trail of smoke following him down the street.
Richie waited until the man had turned a corner before ducking back inside, slamming and locking the door. His friends had remained frozen in their places, listening intently to see if they could hear the hushed conversation.
Eddie still stood, frozen in the same place, his wrist held close to his chest and his face vacant. Richie turned, his back against the door, sighing as the tension dropped away in waves. After a moment the two made eye contact, Eddie’s awareness returning to him, before appearing as though he would burst into tears in that moment. Richie rushed forward, pulling his lover into his arms. He wound an arm around Eddie’s middle, the other coming up to cradle the back of his head and card lightly through his hair. Beverly watched the exchange for a moment before turning to Ben, and in one swift movement they had both arisen and crossed the room to check on the girls, who looked frightened and bewildered. Stan and Bill were holding each others hands in a death grip, while Mike looked at them imploringly for an explanation. When it seemed none would come, he spoke.
“Eddie, are you alright?” Mike stood, placing a hand on Eddie’s shoulder as he stayed wrapped in Richie’s arms. Eddie simply shook his head, face still buried in Richie’s chest. Richie stroked a hand through his hair, whispering encouragements occasionally as Eddie trembled. Mike rubbed a small circle with his thumb, sighing in frustration. “Anyone want to tell me why Henry Bowers was just in your house?” He looked at Richie, Bill, and even Ben behind him who all looked guilty. The three of them shared another look with each other before Richie spoke.
“The time is now.”
“The time for what, exactly?” Mike pressed, taking caution not to tighten his hold on Eddie’s shoulder in frustration, concentrating on keeping the touch comforting.
“Mike, I’m sorry, we should have told you sooner about this. We were trying to keep it as quiet as possible, so we figured the least of us that knew the better, but we’re leaving.”
“Leaving? Leaving where?”
“Far from here. Look, we don’t really have time to get into the details, but Ben and Bill and I have been planning this for a few months now. We’ve bribed a lot of people over at the factory, we’ve got a ship filled with supplies waiting for us, and we’re getting in it, tonight.” Richie rubbed his hands over Eddie’s back, hoping to help the man compose himself. “We have to go soon, because if there’s one thing I know for sure, that was no coincidence. I think Bowers is on to us.”
“Rich, this is a lot-”
“I’ll say.” Stan cut in, looking angry. “You didn’t think to let us all in on this?”
“It was to keep you safe-” Bill tried defending himself, still gripping Stanley’s hand.
“What I don’t understand,” Mike said loudly, commanding the conversation again. “Is why it’s got to be tonight.”
“I think you know why.” Eddie said quietly, voice muffled by Richie’s suit jacket.
Beverly went white, Lillian clutched in her arms.
“It’s coming.” She looked at Ben, who nodded.
Mike’s anger dropped, fear replacing it instantly.
“How long?”
“Bowers didn’t pick an arbitrary number.” Eddie said bitterly, standing up straight, wiping quickly at tear tracks down his cheeks.
The room remained silent for a moment as the severity of the situation sunk into the adults. Richie silently fussed over Eddie, wiping his face and fixing his hair, occasionally dropping a kiss on his forehead as Eddie gathered himself.
Bill eventually broke the silence.
“We should head out now. I’m not sure how much time we’ll have before-”
He was cut off by the tone of the house phone.
It rang loudly from the corner, its shrill tone cutting to the core of the frightened adults, sending shock waves back into Eddie as he looked at Richie, fear plain on his face. He shook his head quickly.
“Don’t.”
“Eds, I’ve gotta answer it.”
“Don’t, let’s just go.” He pleaded. Richie shook his head before letting go of his husband and crossing the room to answer the phone.
“Tozier residence.” Richie said dryly. The rest of the group waited with bated breath, unable to hear the other end of the conversation. “Tonight? I’ve already gone to bed.” Richie’s eyes darted back and forth, his hand coming up to scratch his left ear, as it always did when he was trying to think of a lie. He made as if to speak again, before the dial tone sounded, signaling the end of the call. He replaced the phone slowly, heart rate increasing. “That was my work.” He addressed the room. “They’re sending a car for me. Production services wants us all in tonight.”
“We need to leave now.” Bill said, standing. “Stan, go get our bags from the car. Ben, I suggest you get the girls ready to go, you’ll follow us in yours. Mike, can you pack quickly?” Mike nodded numbly, his mind racing to struggle to accept what was happening. “Rich, go get the car started. I’ll help you pack it.” Everyone began a mad scramble through the house, collecting various items and packing them into cars. Eddie stood frozen through the chaos, eventually slowly moving to clean up the abandoned glasses left on the table. Richie found him and stopped him, gently placing a hand on his arm.
“This is foolish, isn’t it.” Eddie said dejectedly. He looked at Richie, sadness filling his eyes. “We’ll never be back here again.”
________________________________________________________________
“Here. Gate 6A.” Bill said quietly as he pointed at a diverging path in the road they had been following. Richie made a sharp right, glancing in in the rear view to make sure Ben had followed. The headlights behind him curved, hugging tight to their path without wavering. They continued along the road for a couple of tense minutes until they came upon a section of fence. Richie pulled up to it slowly, killing the engine and the lights as they approached. He looked into the rear view again as Ben swung up behind him, the headlamps illuminating the silhouettes of Stan, Mike, and Eddie in the backseat. Richie caught Eddie’s worried gaze, hoping to infuse as much courage as possible into his husband.
But as Ben’s lights clicked off, Eddie’s fearful gaze becoming shrouded in darkness, he thought perhaps he didn’t have much in the first place.
He undid his seat belt, swallowing thickly. He shared a nod with Bill, who climbed out of the passenger side. They closed their doors softly behind them as Ben emerged from the drivers side of his own car, Beverly staying inside with the nervous girls.
Ben approached the fence, fingers trailing over the thick piece of locked chain that held the opening closed. He continued to look beyond the barrier, eyes alighting on a large, circular aircraft a few hundred yards away from them on the field.
“So there it is.” He said quietly as Bill came to stand next to him.
“There it is.” He agreed, Richie joining them.
A small pinprick of light suddenly appeared from the shrouded area of black night beyond the fence, west of the aircraft.
“Is that out contact?” Richie whispered, recognizing the light as the short flash of a handheld light.
“Yeah, that’s him.” Bill nodded, turning to the car. “Stan, flash the lights, just once hun?” He whisper-yelled. Stan nodded nervously, climbing over the front seat to reach up and flash the headlights. When he sat back down, he placed a hand on Eddie’s quacking knee.
“It’s gonna be alright, Eddie.” He said calmly.
Eddie so badly wanted to believe him.
The light returned, illuminating a razor thin beam as it cut through the darkness from the same source. Instead of being a staccato beam, it remained lit, as the holder began walking towards their small group gathered on the other side of the fence. Mike could tell from the tense set of Bill’s shoulders that something was amiss in the situation, and was about to throw open the door and emerge from the car when the hand- and face- the light belonged to was thrown into relief by the new proximity.
“Evening, Mr. Tozier.”
Next to him, Eddie gave a small, terrified sob.
“You know, when I said it was a nice night for a walk, I didn’t think you would have walked this far.”
Stanley’s blood ran cold at the sound of the dry, short laugh that accompanied the statement.
Mike’s mind stopped altogether when he noticed the gun.
Eddie made another noise of fear, this one much louder, as he presumably saw it too. Bowers took notice, raising the flashlight he had in his right hand to illuminate his face, a small smile of victory playing on his lips. He slowly cocked the pistol clenched in his left. Mike had to physically restrain Eddie from leaping over him and out of the side of the car. The last thing they needed in the situation was Eddie’s brash behavior, the way he always got when his emotions were pushed.
“So here’s how this is going to go.” Henry lowered the light, sounding almost bored as he continued. “You three-” He gestured broadly at Ben, Bill, and Richie, earning a sharp intake of breath from the group as they each collectively braced themselves for the worst. “Are going to stay where you are, very quietly. You two gentlemen-” This time, he swung the light, shining it on Mike and Stanley’s faces. “Are going to get out of the car and join them.” He reached into his pocket for a small key, used it to unlock the chain, and opened the fence to step through.
Richie was fuming, every muscle in his body screaming to rush forward and tackle the man to the ground, to pulverize every possible piece of the other man until there was nothing left.
Bowers clearly noticed.
“Then, after I join our little Eddie here, you will all get in your other vehicle and follow us to the authorities.” He finished, his smile growing as he turned to Richie, his satisfaction being fed by Richie’s look of sheer rage.
“Why him, alone?” Ben said, voice unwavering.
“Because I have a strong feeling our testy Richard will try any manners of funny business. Though I’m sure those thoughts are flying right out of your head now, aren’t they?” He raised a challenging eyebrow.
“Most of them.” Richie said, his words poison through gritted teeth.
Bowers stepped closer, gun trained on Richie’s chest.
“I thought I made myself clear to you enough times today Tozier, but apparently I’ll need to remind you, bluntly.” He moved forward again, a small yell erupting from Eddie in the backseat as he attempted to scramble his way out of the seat. In a flash, Henry turned, eyes locking with Eddie’s, his hand flying up to aim, Richie rushing with a shout to throw himself in between them-
But the gun did not go off.
Richie lowered the arms thrown up to shield himself to see Bowers, pivoted from where he stood, gun raised and aimed directly at Eddie’s head, which was just visible over Richie’s shoulder. Eddie had fallen back into his seat, his arms held tightly by Mike and Stan to keep him from jumping up again (and to haul him down for cover if necessary).
“Still don’t understand, boy?” Bowers said venomously. “You’ve lost. Now if you don’t cooperate with me you’ll get your man pack in more than one piece.” He stepped closer again, the butt of the gun practically resting on Richie’s shoulder as it stayed trained on Eddie. “Is that what you want?” Henry whispered. “Would you like me to break him again?” He sneered. Instantly the memories came flooding back to Richie’s, and for that matter, all of their minds. He shivered in fear, his head pounding, and he was fourteen again, watching his best friend scream in pain as his arm was snapped, four boys much bigger than any of them pinning him down and pulling him apart. He was fifteen, staring at the strange misshapen scar as Eddie cried and languished over it, knowing he was doomed to live with it the rest of his life. He was thirteen, watching Ben stumble into the river with a gaping wound in his stomach. He was twelve, watching Beverly’s hands shake from across the cafeteria as she endured another string of insults unfairly thrown her way, her bruises stark and fresh against her skin. He was sixteen, hauling Mike away from a fight, the two of them running like their lives depended on it as Henry screamed profanities after them. He was eighteen, driving Stan at sixty miles per hour through their residential zone to the emergency room on the third night of Hanukkah. He was thirty seven, watching a gun be trained on the face of Bill, his Bill, one of his closest and most trusted allies in all his life. He was overwhelmed, completely terrified, as he felt the weight of the weapon over his shoulder. Henry would always have that power over him, he languished. All their years as children spent attempting to get out from under Henry’s hellish reign of the school yard, only for him to become Richie’s supervisor, to continue to torment him in small, destructive ways years into their adulthood. His constant jeers and jabs at Eddie, who used to come pick him up or bring him lunch, his constant need to drop into the dress shop Beverly ran just to tell her horrible, vile things, his insistence on driving slowly down the street next to Mike just to make him uncomfortable, just to put him on edge. He was overwhelmed, by all of it. The constant torment had worked.
In that moment, Richie felt like they had truly lost.
Thankfully for him, for all of them, Stanley hadn’t.
“Because if you keep pushing me-” Bowers had continued, unheard by Richie through his haze. “I will.”
Stanley curled his fingers around the door handle, silently thanking God that Richie was far enough to the side.
“If you’d like him to last the little time you have left,”
Stan pulled, ever so slightly, the latch releasing.
“I suggest you and your friends listen to my instructions, and-”
Stanley slammed the door into Henry’s side, taking extra effort to knock his knees out of place. Richie lept into action, hands immediately reaching for the gun to wrench it out of Henry’s hands. They flipped, Henry’s back hitting the car as Richie fought him in his daze. Bill and Ben erupted, Bill literally diving over the top of the car to grab Henry’s neck in a choking headlock. Ben jumped into the fray, helping Richie as he wrestled the gun from Henry’s hands, which were immediately restrained by Ben. Richie did not hesitate, disarming the gun before grasping the butt in his hand and clocking Bowers in the side of the head, knocking the man out cold. The three men panted as they let go of Henry’s limp body, pausing only for a moment to watch it slide to the ground. Richie then dropped the gun immediately, the cold metal suddenly searing his hands. Bill collected himself quickly.
“We have to go.”
Richie found himself nodding, his brain kicking into overdrive as Bill turned to pull the gate open all the way. Ben dashed back to his car, hopping in and turning it on. Richie followed suit, immediately, feeling Eddie’s hand on his shoulder, a silent need for affirmation that Richie was okay. He placed a hand over his husbands as Bill climbed back into the car, revving the engine and driving as fast as he could take it, his eyes locked on the aircraft swiftly approaching.
As soon as they hit the field, searchlights locked on them, a guards voice raising a call over the speakers as the security scrambled to meet them.
“UNAUTHORIZED VEHICLES ON FIELD. UNAUTHORIZED VEHICLES ON FIELD. APPREHEND IMMEDIATELY.”
Ben and Richie pulled up to the ship haphazardly, skidding to a stop and not bothering to kill the engines. Everyone scrambled to jump out of the cars, trunks thrown open. Beverly and Stanley grabbed the girls, immediately boarding the ship with them. Ben and Bill followed them, as many bags as they could carry in their hands as they ran up the small ramp of stairs leading to an opening in the craft. None of them had time to stop and process what exactly they were getting themselves into, in the most literal sense. None other than Bill had been anywhere near the machine, which looked so unlike anything they had ever seen that they couldn’t even come up with something it was akin to. Mike and Eddie grabbed what they could from their trunk as Richie checked Ben’s car for any left behind items, double checking the backseat in case the girls had left some treasured toy. Bill came back out of the craft, running to its base to detach a strange array of pipes and pumps running into the side. Eddie and Mike ran up with their bags, throwing them inside carelessly as they turned to grab more. Richie was behind them with the last from their car, handing it up. Before they could all ascend, guards came rushing from the dark, batons drawn and poised to fight. Mike pushed Eddie, who was at the top of the ramp, back up into the aircraft, as he, Richie, and Bill remained to fight off the guards. It devolved into a good old fashioned fist fight, their blows earning them more ground as the three men moved higher up the ramp. Bill hit a switch on its side that caused the steps to start ascending into the machine. He then landed a kick to the chest of the last guard, who fell off the end of the platform. He caught one last glimpse of the ground as metal came up to meet metal, and knew, heavily in his heart, it was the last time he’d see the soil of his home.
________________________________________________________________
“How are we looking?” Mike asked, looking up from the small guidebook he was holding.
“So far, so good. It’s holding steady, just like the tests.” Bill replied, eyes on a screen of data.
“Think we’ll be able to maintain that?” Stan asked the question on everyone’s minds.
“I couldn’t say for sure.” Bill answered honestly, looking up at him. “But I’m hopeful.”
Stan took a moment to process his thoughts.
“If you’re convinced, that’s enough for me.” He finally said, crossing the small space of the hull to sit on the low bench where Eddie and Richie were huddled together. On the other side Ben and Bev were sat on the floor, each with a dozing child in their laps, Ben’s slack face nodding every so often, signaling how close he was to joining them. Beverly had remained silent with her face trained on the small viewing screen the entire time they’d been flying.
“Where are we headed, anyways?” Eddie asked timidly. “It’s stars. Stars so far away…” he trailed off as he too gazed at the screen.
“See the bright one? To the right, in the corner?” Richie said, his head chin tucked over Eddie’s shoulder. The two hadn’t let go of each other since boarding. Stan and Mike shifted so that they too could look at the screen. “That’s our destination.”
“We’ve been researching it in our division.” Bill said, joining them as they all looked at the star. “It’s got life on it, like us. It’s so damn similar to our planet, it’s frightening.” He folded his arms over his chest. “We’ll get there soon enough.”
“What is it?” Bev piped up from her corner. “What’s it called?”
“It’s the third planet from the sun. It’s called… Earth.”
“That’s where we’re going.” Eddie breathed.
Richie nodded. “To a place called Earth.”
________________________________________________________________
authors notes: okay so this is OBNOXIOUSLY late to the party but im so glad this is finally done! this very much got away from me and i wrote waaaaaayyyyyy too much so here’s this whole damn ass thing lmao. anyways i rlly hope u love it and that it suits u! i got the idea and ran too too far with it. thank u so much for bein patient, i was on a long work trip this past week and a half, so getting the last couple of scenes written didn’t happen until today //: i may need to go back thru and edit but ANYWAYS !! thank u for reading and i hope yall enjoy <3 i may end up doing an anthology series of one shots based on twilight zone episodes, so if you guys are interested in that message me and beg me to do it!!! i live to please <3
tags list: @stennbrough @s-s-stutteringbill @gazeboseddie @misssiriusblack @mythgirl96 @crackhousetozier @reddieaddict @wincestklaine @beepbeep-losers @ayyyymichele @ttrxshmouth @megelizabethvh @tapetayloe @flickerflies @ghostbustermike @i-is-gazebo @reddiesetrichie @jessicarayheyman @r-u-reddiee @wyttolff @gayzier @hanscombeverly @kaspbrak-is-our-king @babybyelers @28shoes @nicoperryy
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occulous repairo
merry christmas ya filthy animals!!! it is finally time to reveal myself to my it secret santa recipient!!!! this fic is for the lovely @wyttolff (big thanks for helping organize this whole shebang!! i hope u love ur gift dear <3 i sent u anons lmao i wasn’t slick)
occulous repairo, a losers club hp au
pairings: reddie (for now, tbh i might turn this into a full-blown Thing)
word count: 6.1k
warnings: mildly graphic depictions of a broken arm?? General Wizarding Buffoonery
“God- damn- shit-”
“Rich, calm down, jesus christ. You’re not gonna get it if you keep pressuring yourself. Relax.”
“I am fucking relaxed Eds, it’s just not working-”
“It’ll work if you stop clenching your fist, for starters.” Eddie sighed, reaching over and forcing Richie to loosen his grip on his wand. Richie tried not to notice how gentle Eddie’s guidance was, or his perfectly kept nails, or his soft-
He tried not to notice.
“Now, when you say the incantation, let it flow instead of spitting it out. And maybe don’t say fuck so much.” Eddie quirked an eyebrow at him, which took him a second to catch as his gaze lingered on Eddie’s hands.
“Thanks, professor, any other tips you got?” He said defensively. He knew Eddie was just trying to help him, but he couldn’t help his tone. He’d been trying his accio charm for half an hour to no avail, and he was pissed. Charms was his best course, and he’d never struggled with something so much in all his years of schooling. His pride was wounded, and he wasn’t prepared to receive advice.
Eddie blanched, before his expression turned sour. “Fine, be that way. I hope you fail your Runes test.” Eddie grumbled, before casting a perfect Summoning spell on Richie’s Runes book. It sailed so close to Richie’s face he thought it might smack his glasses clean off, but thankfully it only knocked them askew.
“Bitch.” Richie glared at him, reaching up to fix his spectacles. Eddie only responded with a flat glare and a wordless repetition of the charm, causing Richie’s glasses to soar off his face and into Eddie’s waiting hand.
“Hey, give those back!” Richie blinked against the sudden blurriness and wildly reached out for Eddie’s hands. Eddie snorted and held the glasses out of Richie’s reach.
“Not until you stop being an asshole. I’m just trying to help you.”
“I’m sorry, okay, Jesus-”
“Say it like you mean it.”
“I’m sorry, princess-”
“Not in the fucking voice Rich, and don’t call me princess-”
“Look, I’m sorry, seriously, Eds.” Richie’s hands dropped to his lap as he looked dejectedly down at them. “I’m just… really frustrated with myself.”
“I know.” Suddenly his glasses were being placed gingerly across the bridge of his nose. “You’re gonna get it, okay?” Eddie gave him a tender, serious look. “Don’t knock me for helping you.”
“I’m sorry. Thank you for your advice.”
“What, ya gonna braid his hair?” Bev’s voice cut through their reverie, causing Eddie to realize that the hands he’d just used to replace Richie’s glaces were practically tangled in the other boy’s hair. He pulled them back to his lap, his face flushing. Bev laughed at the action.
“You know you’ve got first dibs on these curls, love.” Richie threw over his shoulder at her with a smirk.
“Class!” Their professor rapped his wand on the podium in front of him, shooting a glare at Richie, who was his frequent Problem Student. Most teachers tended to assume that if someone was talking out of turn in class, it was Richie. They tended to be right. “Focus up; we’re shifting to our second spell of the day.”
“Goodie me.” Richie mumbled under his breath, sitting back in his seat with his arms crossed. He was still chuffed about the last spell; he didn’t want another one to muck up.
“I think you’ll find this one quite useful, Mr. Tozier.” His teacher gave him a hard look. “Turn to page twenty-seven. Let’s work on occulous reparo.”
Eddie did his best to hide a laugh as Richie flipped open his book to the page of the glasses-repairing spell. Richie’s ears went red as many of his other classmates began to laugh too, realizing the diss from their teacher. This redness stayed on his ears throughout the duration of the lesson, hiding his face in shame as their professor went through the steps. When they were left to attempt the spell on their own, however, his mood was quick to change.
“Having some trouble there, Eds?” Richie found himself smirking over at a frustrated Eddie, who had failed to fix the crack in the pair of practice readers they had been provided for the twentieth time.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t say fuck so much.”
Richie looked at Eddie with his biggest shit eating grin. He also thanked his stars Eddie wasn’t a dementor; otherwise he’d be getting his soul sucked by now.
It’d be worth it for the kiss, though.
Richie pushed the thought away immediately.
“I’m gonna-” Eddie’s face of rage faltered, changing to confusion. “I’m- I’m too flustered to come up with a threat right now, but just know you’re gonna regret that comment later.”
“I’m quakin’ in my boots!”
“Beep beep.” Eddie huffed, turning back to his spectacles. Richie watched him attempt the spell a few times before Eddie’s cheeks began to tinge pink. “Are you staring for a reason, trashmouth?”
Richie faltered. “Uh- no. No, nothing.” He pushed his curls back nervously, before turning to his practice glasses and performing the spell perfectly on the first try, as per his usual. He sighed, feeling relief that his mojo was back. Eddie eyed his glasses with jealousy before dejectedly attempting the spell one more time.
“Here-” Richie said after a pause, wrapping his hands around Eddie’s wand hand. “Try gripping it like this.” He helped Eddie adjust his hold on the wand. “And uh… try flicking with a little bit more force.” Richie chanced a glance at the smaller boy’s face; he was looking at their tangled hands with his mouth slightly agape, his expression strange. Richie swallowed and let go with hesitation.
He also tried not to notice the snickers of Bill and Bev, the next table over.
Well, he tried to.
________________________________________________________________
“Jesus Billiam, and you shit on me for overeating.”
“Sh-shut up Tozier. I e-e-eat a lot at m-meals, sure, b-but you eat like a c-cow. All d-d-damn day.”
“Touche.” Richie shrugged, taking a massive bite out of his sandwich as he reached across Bev’s plate for another.
“You know you could just ask me to pass you one.” She griped.
“It’s my only stretch for the day, just let me have it.” Richie said around a mouthful of food.
“Sexy.” Bev scrunched her nose and gave him a disgusted look. He smiled wide, revealing bread-and-meat filled teeth. She lightly punched his shoulder. “Ugh, that’s fucking nasty. You know that may work on Eddie but it’s not gonna charm me.”
Richie furrowed his brow, swallowing his food. “Excuse me?”
“Excuse you! I saw you two in Charms. The tension was practically rolling off of you guys in waves.”
“What! There was no- there wasn’t tension, Bev, we were just-”
“Just doing what you always do, tragically pining over each other with no hope of requisition.” Bev sighed dramatically. “It’s saddening, really.”
Richie glared at her through squinted eyes and coke-bottle glasses. “I do not pine.”
“Yes you do.” Bill said nonchalantly through a mouthful of chicken.
Richie huffed, turning back to his plate. “I do not pine!” His following dramatic gesture was cut short by a flying piece of treacle, which hit him squarely in the forehead. He flinched, shocked by the contact, then glanced around the Great Hall to see where the projectile originated from. Near the end of their table, a certain Mr. Bowers and his cronies were sniggering. Richie went red and turned back to his friends.
“Shit Rich, you okay?” Bev asked in a concerned tone as Richie pulled off his glasses to inspect them for debris.
“‘M fine.” He griped. “It’s assholes like Bowers that give our house such a bad name. I don’t want people to think of me in the same class as that.” He gestured towards Bowers, who was currently trying (and hilariously failing) to change his cider into rum.
“T-technically you’re not.” Bill said. “He is a c-couple classes ab-bove us.”
Richie gave him a flat look. “He’s still a Slytherin.”
“You’re twice the Slytherin he’ll ever be.” Bev said with a wink.
Bill and Richie both smiled at her. “You’re darn right I am.” Richie beamed, hitching up his robes on his shoulders.
That time Richie didn’t notice Eddie’s small face, peeking over Mike’s shoulder across the way at the Hufflepuff table, a small blush on his cheeks as he watched Richie preen.
Richie didn’t notice, but Eddie did.
________________________________________________________________
“C’mon Eddie, I thought you’d done this before.” Ben was still laughing, though on his behalf he was making at least some semblance of an attempt at disguising it. Richie did nothing to hide his guffaws as he watched Eddie try to right himself.
“Yeah, once! That doesn’t mean I’m a fucking pro at it!”
“Language, Mr. Kaspbrak. One point from Hufflepuff.” Their professor uttered boredly as she passed them, on her way to assist another student.
“Sorry Professor.” Eddie grumbled from his current position, which happened to be hanging completely upside down from a broom that was floating about six feet off the ground. The only thing keeping him from meeting it was his death grip with all of his limbs around the handle.
“You look like a koala!” Richie cried through his laughter, complete with actual tears.
“A very unhappy one.” Ben added lightly, sending Richie into another peal of laughter that caused him to nearly fall over.
“THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” Eddie screeched down at them, desperately making an attempt to flip over to the topside of his broom.
“Would you like some help?” Ben asked cautiously.
“No, Benjamin, I’m thoroughly enjoying myself.” Eddie snapped, carefully shimmying with his feet.
“Oh my God, where’s Bill, I’ve gotta get a picture of this-” Richie finally managed when he regained control of his laughter.
“YOU WILL NOT.” Eddie called down, taking a second too long to glare down at Richie. His loss of focus caused a loss of footing, and before he knew it he was dangling from the end of his broom, his grip reduced to his bare hands around where the base met the bristles. He let out a shriek as he fumbled; he was still a good couple of feet from the ground.
And rising.
“Ben- Ben! BEN IT’S GOING UP WHAT DO I DO-”
“Let go of it, Eddie!” Ben watched in shock as Eddie’s broom steadily began to climb. Richie instantly ceased his giggling, his expression turning serious.
“WHY IS IT DOING THIS BEN HELP-”
“Eddie you have to let go! It won’t stop until you stop touching it!” Ben called up to him, looking around for their professor.
“I can’t! I can’t, I’m too high!”
“Eddie just let go, I’ll catch you!” Richie yelled, moving to stand underneath the floating boy.
“I can’t! I could crush you!” He looked pleadingly up at the broom, but for all he was concerned, it was on a path of its own, its mind unknowable to him. He could almost feel the rate of his ascent increasing along with his rapid heartbeat.
Mike came jogging across the pitch, their professor in tow.
“Dear God, what’s going on with him?” Mike asked incredulously, craning his neck to squint up at Eddie against the glaring sun.
“His broom’s being fussy.” Ben sighed. “He won’t let go.”
“That’s the only way you’re gonna get down!” Mike yelled up to the frightened boy.
“That’s what I told him.” Ben said.
“Eds, c’mon, I said I’d catch you!” Richie yelled again, trying to persuade him with a smile. He was only met with a squeak as the broom above them pitched wildly, causing Eddie to loosen his grip. He righted himself, but his hold was only tenuous.
“Eddie, come on, you have to let go!” Mike pressed, pulling his yellow striped scarf and rolling up his sleeves. He moved to stand next to Richie.
“I CAN’T!”
“Rich and I will catch you, if you don’t let go now it’s gonna pitch you!”
“I’M TOO HIGH UP!”
“Well it’s not gonna come back down when you’re worked up like that!” Ben huffed, growing frustrated with Eddie’s stubbornness. Bill and Bev finally made their way to the front of the small crowd of students that had gathered to spectate, their faces painted with worry.
“Mr. Kaspbrak, you need to listen to Mr. Hanlon. It’s the only way we’re going to get you down.” Their professor said calmly from her place next to Ben. “Mr. Hanscom, will you go get the nurse’s team, please. I suspect he’ll have a rough fall from this height.” She said quietly to Ben. He nodded and pushed through the crowd, headed back towards the castle.
“Eddie, please, come down.” Richie pleaded, his fear growing more and more palpable. Richie had already hit a good five-eleven in height, and by his measurement he thought it likely he could fit another one of himself between him and Eddie. The turf on the pitch was meant to soften the blow from a fall, and many a student had been pitched off of brooms and onto the grass from greater heights before. But Eddie had never been more than Richie’s height off of the ground before, and this was only because of all the times the trashmouth himself had hoisted Eddie over his shoulder for a joke. It was no secret to anyone that Eddie was fragile, either; the boy was on more magical medicine than Richie’d ever heard of, and spent at least a quarter of his time in the hospital wing for various injuries over their five years at Hogwarts so far. This fall was shaping up to be a rough one indeed, and growing prospectively worse by the second.
Eddie’s wild eyes caught Richie’s as he looked down in panic. Richie responded with raised eyebrows and a nod, gently encouraging Eddie down. Eddie’s eyes then caught Mike’s, who’s arms were out and ready to catch Eddie on his way down. Richie mimicked his position, his feet shoulder-width apart. They both looked to Eddie again, but instead of his agreement of readiness, they were met with fearful eyes that soon disappeared into the blur of a shaking head.
“No! No, I can’t do it!” Eddie was doing a fairly good job of hiding it, but Richie could tell the small boy was damn near close to tears as he clung desperately to the end of the broomstick.
“Yes, you can, Ed-”
Mike’s words were lost as the broom gave another violent jerk, and Eddie was yanked dangerously to the left. The movement caught him off guard, and his threadbare grip was rendered moot at the wood slipped from beneath his hands. Richie saw a wild flailing of limbs eclipse the sun in his gaze, and heard a cry of fear the likes of which he’d never heard from his closest friend.
And then Eddie was falling.
To him, it wasn’t like he’d heard described from Ben about his Quidditch games or how he’d seen it in the movies. There was no slow-motion rendering, no recollection of his life in a succinct flash, no endless churning through open air. Maybe it was because the fall wasn’t from nearly as high as Ben had come down from before, or because he was so unused to the feeling, but instead of a weightless, floating, gradual fall, it happened and was over faster than anything he’d ever experience. He was in the air, and then he wasn’t. Like that. Like lightning.
For Richie, however, there was slow-motion. Eddie’s broom had positioned him directly above Richie’s head, instead of neatly poised above he and Mike’s waiting arms. Neither of them had enough time to adjust their positions in reality, but to Richie it seemed as though he’d had time enough to move out of the way. He watched, as if through lens, as his best friend plummeted through the air, expression aghast and limbs askew, directly towards his face.
Crunch.
There was an audible gasp from the spectating students.
“Oh fuck…”
A groan from Eddie.
“I second that.”
Richie’s gruff reply.
“Guys?”
Then Mike was above them, their professor and Bill, even Beverly’s curl-framed face all swimming through Richie’s vision. After a couple of blinks they came sharper into focus; after a couple more it became apparent that his glasses had an exceptionally gnarly fracture in them.
“Did I catch him?” Richie mumbled up at them through a crooked smile. He felt a hot, wet splotch forming on his upper lip.
“Yeah, with your f-face.”
“Enough, Mr. Denbrough, make space.” Bill’s and Beverly’s faces disappeared. “Mr. Kaspbrak, can you hear me?”
Something stirred on top of Richie’s chest. He looked down the best he could, his head not wanting to bear much weight.
His heart couldn’t really bear the sight of it, either.
A quick tally told him all limbs were accounted for; four for him, four for Eddie, all easily visible. His were thankfully laid out the way they were supposed to be. He had been knocked flat, but thankfully nothing had folded or crumpled. His ass hurt from where it hit the ground, and he was fairly certain the wetness on his face was from a bloody nose. By his worst estimate he had a mild concussion, at his best a few bruises. Definitively he was okay. But the weight on top of him was another story.
Eddie had all four of his limbs alright, but as Richie realized with growing horror, one of them was very nearly facing the wrong way.
Eddie slowly raised his head, his eyes meeting Richie’s over Eddie’s twisted and mangled arm between them. His gaze quickly left the other boys and settled on what hardly resembled his right arm. Richie watched as the color drained instantly from his face. He’d never seen Eddie look so upset before.
“Mr. Kaspbrak-” Their teacher repeated, before Eddie let out a moan.
“Oh- oh god…” He wretched, making Richie genuinely worried the smaller boy would throw up on him.
Mike’s hands were suddenly on Eddie’s shoulders, guiding him up enough to get Richie out from underneath him. They got Eddie back into a sitting position, and Richie able to kneel in front of him.
“Mr. Hanlon, please escort Mr. Kaspbrak to the infirmary. Mr Hanscom should intercept you on the way with aid. Mr. Denbrough, please accompany Mr. Tozier.”
“I don’t need attention, I’m okay.” Richie said quickly, eyes not leaving Eddie’s face. He could already see a bruise forming high on Eddie’s cheekbone. His face must have been what collided with Richie’s nose. “I’ll help take Eddie up.”
“Alright, alright, disperse then.” The professor said in a huff to the surrounding crowd of students. Most of them departed, but Bill and Bev stayed on, observing worriedly. They had to be dismissed again at the threat of house point deduction, which even then barely worked. All that got them to leave was a non-verbal agreement between the four of them that Eddie would be okay in the hands of Mike and Richie.
“C’mon daredevil, lets go get you cleaned up.” Richie muttered quietly in Eddie’s ear as he and Mike hoisted Eddie up from the ground.
“Oh- oh god I’m gonna hurl.” Eddie said feebly, his steps uneven and wobbly.
“Be sick to the left, then, can’t have you staining my fresh laundry now.” He joked, though it sounded nervous even to his own ears. He felt nearly as shaky as the smaller boy, his thoughts swimming with worry. He was concerned Eddie could pass out before they got him up to the infirmary.
“You got him, Rich?” Mike said calmly.
“Yeah.” Richie said, slinging Eddie’s unbroken arm over his shoulder.
“I’m gonna run ahead and see if they’ve got a stretcher.”
“Good on, mate.” Richie nodded at him as he turned and sprinted in the direction of the school. “Okay, Eds, just you and me now. I need you to do your best to stay upright, okay? Don’t worry about going too fast or anything, just stayin’ afloat, okay?”
“M sorry…” Came Eddie’s slurred response. His head was hanging, and Richie could feel his skin growing clammy from the hand he had clasped in his. The smaller boy was too white, and too wobbly.
“Nothing to be sorry for Spaghetti.” He had to bend over quite a bit to accommodate their height difference, and the awkward position was starting to belabor him. “Not your fault you got tossed around by a stick.”
“Shoulda.. Tried harder…”
“Shoulda let go sooner is what you shoulda. You really scared me there, love.”
Both of them pretended not to notice the pet name.
They did.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t ‘sorry’. Just don’t do it again.”
Part of Richie hoped Eddie didn’t notice the gentle way he was stroking his thumb across the hand he had in his, his small attempt at comforting the immense pain he knew the other boy must be in. His small attempt at comforting himself that Eddie would be okay.
The other part of Richie really, really hoped he did.
_______________________________________________________________
“I mean Christ Staniel, it was practically backwards.” Richie whispered hurriedly, pushing his newly fractured glasses up the bridge of his nose for the umpteenth time. He’d broken into quite a sweat hauling Eddie across the grounds, and his glasses now refused to stay on a face slick with sweat.
“I’m only sad I missed it.” Stan deadpanned, his gaze never leaving his parchment. “I’ve always wanted to see Eddie hit you in the face.”
“With his whole body?” Richie whisper-yelled incredulously. Their Runes professor shot them a dirty look over his shoulder before continuing. Stan waited for the teacher to turn away before speaking again.
“Of course not.” Stan gave Richie The Look; the one that told him Stan was switching out of sarcasm. “They said he’ll be okay, right?”
“Yeah, the nurse already has him set.”
“Fuck, you watched that?”
“They had me do it. Eddie was screaming at everyone; he didn’t want them to touch him at all.”
“Jesus.” Stan breathed, chancing another glance at the professor. They remained undetected. “I’m just glad you’re both okay...ish. You could’ve been a lot worse off.”
“Me too.” Richie glanced guiltily down at his arms. His right was slightly bruised and sore from where Eddie’s weight had landed on it, and he new his nose was quite the sight. “I’m just so fucking pissed he got hurt instead of me.”
Stan gave him a knowing look.
“Finally.”
Richie looked up at him, eyebrows knitted.
“Come again for big fudge?”
Stan cocked an eyebrow. “Just… finally.”
“Mr. Uris!” Their teacher suddenly interrupted, causing the two of them to jump slightly. “Something to share with the class?”
“No, sir.” Stan mumbled.
“Then can you at least share with me what…” He paused as he drew a series of symbols on the board. “...This means?”
Stan took a moment to squint at the figures. He could only state with confidence about half.
“I cannot, sir.”
“Never thought I’d see the day when my star student couldn’t answer a simple question. Five points from Ravenclaw. You and mister Tozier here better focus up or I might just deduct from Slytherin as well.”
Richie and Stan gave him twin death glares as he turned back to the board.
________________________________________________________________
“Finally what?”
Stanley nearly jumped out of his skin. “Jesus FUCK, Richie.”
“Finally what?”
“Were you fucking hiding behind that suit of armor waiting for me?”
“Only for like an hour, anyways finally what?”
“You’re hyper-fixating again.” Stan muttered bitterly as he straightened his tie (and attempted to quell his fluttering heart rate).
“ADHD, sue me. Finally what?”
“Christ Rich, let it go.” Stan hitched his book bag strap further up his shoulder, checking his special wand pocket to ensure the instrument was still safely tucked in after his scare.
“Well tell me what the fuck you meant then!” Richie flapped his arms frustratedly, his loosely worn green striped tie following suit.
“I have to meet Bill for our study session-”
“You’re not going anywhere, Stan-The-Man,” Richie pulled his wand from his back pocket (where he foolishly kept it, in Stan’s opinion) and dramatically jumped into a dueling stance. “Before goin’ through me.”
“I’m not fighting you over it, asshole-”
“Then tell meeeeeee.” Richie whined, dropping his shoulders and hands flamboyantly. A group of second year girls scurrying past watched him in confusion.
“You’re not gonna like it.” Stan snorted, watching as Richie gestured crudely at the girls.
“Try me.” Richie folded his arms.
Stan mirrored his position.
“I only meant your little pity party there in Runes was an admission. One I’ve been waiting on. Hence, finally.”
Richie drew his eyebrows together in confusion. “Admission of what? That I felt bad? That’s no secret, wouldn’t you-”
Stan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. This is exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I’m so confused.”
“Of course you are. You haven’t had pre-dinner yet.”
“Which I’m skipping right now to interrogate you, thank you very much.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry my minding of my own business between classes has disrupted your thievery of the kitchens.”
“Okay first of all, it’s not thievery if the house elves have given up on fighting me over it. Secondly, what the fuck are you talking about.”
Richie was using his pleading voice, the one that got Stan every time.
They locked eyes in a stare down.
Stan lost.
“You’re in love with Eddie.”
“I am?”
Stan blanched. “Yes, Richie.”
“And why is this news to me? Shouldn’t this be something I’m aware of-?” Richie trailed off.
“Yeah, it fucking should.” Stan put his face in his hand. “Look, Richie, seriously, you need to take some time to address your feelings. What you said in class? About feeling guilty? That was some cheesy shit. I’m talking grade-a Debbie Macomber novel. Maybe you should sit with that for a bit.”
Richie gave him a blank look.
“You think I have feelings for Eddie.”
“I know you do.”
“Okay, and how do I not know this?”
“Because you’re blind as a bat.”
Richie crossed his eyes to look at the break in his thick lenses. “Touche.” He looked back at Stan, and paused.
“I don’t have feelings for Eddie.”
“Really? Prove it.”
“Prove it? How?!”
“Get through one whole day without telling me how cute his hair is.”
“Well that’s impossible Staniel, you know I love his-”
Richie suddenly dropped the end of his sentence.
“Fuck.”
Stan cocked an eyebrow.
“I have feelings for Eddie.”
Stan nodded, much like a babysitter to a three year old who’d finally gotten the hint.
“Fuck.”
________________________________________________________________
“Mr. Kaspbrak, you have a visitor.” Eddie heard the nurse say quietly through the drapes thrown round his hospital bed.
“I’m not-” He croaked, before being cut off.
“Eds, it’s me.”
The curtains slowly pulled back to reveal a pale and drawn looking Eddie, his right arm currently obscured from view.
“Hi, Rich.”
He nodded at the nurse, who turned and left. Eddie stepped back to let Richie into the enclosed space, swinging the curtains closed behind them. Eddie sat gingerly on the bed, cradling his arm close to his chest. It was bound in bandages and hung in a white sling, which had been admonished with a scrawling rendition of the word “loser” in all capital letters.
Richie had spent the last god-knows-how-many minutes on his way to the hospital wing (which, despite his multitude of trips to meet Eddie there, he still never seemed to find in a reasonable amount of time) mulling over in his head what the fuck he should say. He’d start by voicing his concern, follow it up with a joke that will do nothing to dispel either of their discomfort, maybe throw in a couple of anecdotes about the rest of his classes with Stan for extra stalling time, but then inevitably reach the point where he’d spill his guts because Lord (and every one of his friends, for that matter) knew he couldn’t keep a thought in once he’d had it, and say the damned words that could very well cost him one of his closest friends. Or perhaps bring them much, much closer, a hopeful voice had quietly persisted in his head, though he tried not to give it much notice.
He did.
He also very, very much noticed the damn sling.
“The fuck is that?” He asked, perplexed, drawing his brows together as he gestured at the word.
Eddie flushed, looking down at his feet. “Fucking Greta is the nurses aid today. She was supposed to just change my bandages and leave, but… We started talking and she asked if she could sign it and I said yes and... “ Eddie took a breath, exhaling deeply. “It’s charmed on there, I’ve spent the last hour trying to get it off.”
“That fucking bitch…” Richie muttered, sitting down next to Eddie.
“It’s okay.” Eddie looked smaller than Richie had seen in a long time. “It’s what I am.”
“Darn right you are!” Richie said indignantly, clapping Eddie gently on the back. “King of the losers.”
“That’s actually Bill, but thanks.” Eddie gave a small laugh, relaxing into Richie’s touch. He left his hand on Eddie’s back.
“Whatever. Big Bill can step down for a bit. You deserve the crown for getting through today.” Richie smiled, lightly beginning to massage the smaller boy’s spine.
“It certainly has been one, hasn’t it.”
The two spent a moment sat in comfortable silence, Richie slowly working out a knot in the center of Eddie’s back. The comfort soon turned charged however, as both boys sucked in a breath to speak.
“Eds-”
“Rich- Oh, sorry, you go first.”
“No, no, you go.” Richie shook his head fervently, his heart rate jumping.
“I just- I’m sorry. I’m really embarrassed. I should have listened when you guys told me to let go. I made us all look like dumbasses, me falling on you like that.” Richie quirked an eyebrow, nearly letting out a laugh. “I’m also sorry for falling on you.”
Richie did laugh at that. “And I’m sorry for not scooting to the left. The impact really hurt my ass, I’ll have you know.”
Eddie snorted. “Oh, you poor thing.”
“Doc says I can’t sit for a week.”
“You’re sitting right now, asshole.”
“Yeah, and it’s hurting my asshole, so maybe think about that before you judge me.”
Eddie gave a real laugh then, his face crinkling up happily, his freckles stretched across his nose in a smattering of stardust.
Richie fucking noticed.
“Eddie.”
Eddie looked up at Richie, surprised by the serious tone in his voice.
“Yeah..?”
“I- I think I like you.”
Eddie gave him a flat look. “Well, I would sure hope you do. We’ve only been friends for years.”
“No, Eds, I- like you. As in- I’d like to kiss you.”
Eddie’s face froze. “Oh.” His brain caught up with the moment. “Oh.”
“Can I?” Richie’s voice was barely a whisper. “Kiss you, I mean.”
Eddie just stared blankly at him, all conscious thought flying right out of his mind.
“Richie-”
“Shit.” Suddenly Richie’s hands were scraping over his face. “That was way too forward, fuck, I’m sorry-”
“No, no Richie, you’re fine.” Eddie laughed nervously. “I just.. Wasn’t prepared for that is all.”
Richie’s face burned behind his hands.
“I would like that.”
Richie peeked through new cracks between his fingers.
“You would?”
Eddie smiled and nodded sheepishly.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
Richie dropped his hands in awe, leaning towards his friend.
“I just-” Richie nearly groaned in frustration as he was stopped short. “..don’t see how you would wanna kiss a loser.” Eddie gestured at the broken arm tucked between them. If Richie was suddenly, magically doing everything Eddie wanted, he might as well charm him into a little removal spell.
What could he say? He knew how to play Richie like a fiddle.
Contrary to Eddie’s, however, Richie was struck with his own idea.
Whipping his wand out of his back pocket, he sat cross-legged on the bed facing Eddie, his concentration face on. Eddie raised a brow but followed suit, mirroring his position.
“You still keep your wand in your back pocket?” Eddie gave him a disgusted look. “That’s so fucking dangerous, Richie-”
“Shut up.” Richie mumbled, beginning to mutter an incantation under his breath.
“The fuck are you-”
“Shut up.” He resumed his spell, concentrating sharply as he drew a concise “v” through the air.
“Rich-”
“There.” Richie straightened up, tucking his wand back into the pocket, warning (as usual) unheeded. He smiled at his work, satisfied.
“What’d you-” Eddie’s words left him as he looked at the sling. Shining brightly over the “s” was a red letter “v”, transforming the insult into a title (he was certainly not over-proud to wear, no sir) on his arm, a very unexpected response.
“That better?” Richie was smiling at him, his usual, every day Richie smile, the one he had when he beat Mike at chess or when his Christmas gift to Bev went over well, or when he got a higher grade than Stan in a Runes essay. It was pride, for sure, but on Richie it was never cocky or obnoxious (though they all loved to tease him as though it was). It was always a smile of accomplishment, from a boy told frequently by the world that he was incapable. It was a smile of achievement, victory; it was infectious. It was one of Eddie’s favorite things about Richie.
His Richie, who he’d always known, always been aware of loving.
Eddie surged forward unexpectedly, sealing their lips in a clumsy kiss, one that seemed to sing through the air on the sigh of Stan’s finally.
“Better.” Eddie mumbled as they shakily pulled apart, both breathless and dizzy. It took all of two milliseconds before Richie was cupping Eddie’s face in his hands, kissing with a power he didn’t know he had. Eddie did his best to reciprocate, tangling his left hand in Richie’s curls (another finally drifting through the cosmos) with his limp right arm still tucked between them. Their knees knocked together awkwardly, and the leaning over was putting painful pressure on Richie’s ribs (he realized dimly that they might not be in the best shape after the fall), but the kiss was soft and meaningful and right.
Through the haze, Eddie noticed one more thing.
“Rich-” He pulled out of their kiss, nose hovering just in front of the others. “Your glasses are still broken, the glass is scratching my face.” He giggled a bit, Richie pulling a face at being interrupted.
“Fuck, I don’t care-” He went to throw them off, pulling Eddie closer again.
“Let me fix them.” He laughed, grabbing them away from Richie and setting them on his leg. He leaned around to grab his wand from the bedside table.
Richie watched him with a raised eyebrow, remembering Eddie’s many failed attempts, and dreading just how long this would take.
Eddie balanced the glasses before taking his wand into his non-dominant hand (a recipe for disaster; Richie braced himself) and swished-
“Occulous repairo.”
A quiet woosh surrounded the glass as the fragments popped back into place and seamlessly wove back together. Both watched in awe as the whole set repaired itself.
“Wow, Eds.” Richie whispered in quiet reverence as Eddie replaced his wand on the table, before turning around and attempting to deposit Richie’s glasses back on his face one-handedly.
“Whoa whoa whoa, let me help you with that, you already fucked up my ass, I don’t want you to do the same to my eye.” Richie quipped as he put the specs on himself.
Eddie half-heartedly rolled his eyes. “I spent all day learning that spell for you, and this is the thanks I get.”
Richie got that devilish twinkle in his eye.
“Oh I’ll give you a good thanks.” He smirked before scooping Eddie up into his arms, kissing wildly all over the other boys face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He exclaimed between Eddie’s laughs.
“You’re welcome, Rich.” Eddie managed through his giggles, as Richie’s kisses slowed. They shared a deep look before kissing again.
They stayed that way, laughing and kissing and joking and being, and all afternoon Eddie couldn't stop thinking about the way Richie looked at him after he successfully completed the spell; that same, wonderful, proud-of-you smile that he’d always wanted to be on the receiving end of.
He hadn’t noticed it all those times before, but thinking back on it as he did now, he realized just how many times he had.
He hadn’t noticed, not before, but this time, he finally did.
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guess who's starting another wip???
#prior.txt#prior.fic#liza gets off a good one#lmao remember when i said i was writing that canon compliant hanbrough centric fic????#it has begun#it's uhhhh basically a big fix it for the adult half of cannon where no one dies and everyone's gay and no one can stop me
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Reddie + "don't talk, just kiss me" KATE gimme the feels 💕
ohhhhhh jebus crisp okay… this is gunna be Shite but here goes????
you said you wanted the feels dont sue me
“Oh, Christ’s sake.” Richie muttered under his breath, the last in a string of curses and exclamations as he struggled under the weight of his best friend. Getting Eddie through the window was a chore in and of itself, especially when he was going limp as he was now. It had taken most of his strength just to hoist the smaller boy up level with the opening, and what was left was proving to not be quite enough to get him in.
“C’mon Eds, you’ve gotta work with me.” Richie groaned, trying to pull the boy over his shoulder.
“Sorry.” Came Eddie’s feeble reply, as his small arms came up to wrap around Richie’s neck. Moaning in pain, he pulled his lower half through the opening.
“There you go, love, you got it.” Richie said in a calming voice, gently setting Eddie upright on his feet. He took the smaller boys face in his hands, examining the bloodied bruises.
“How bad is it?” Eddie whispered through the lump in his throat.
“Not too sexy, baby, but I still love ya.” He smiled softly, fighting the growing heat in his eyes. He would not cry, not when Eddie needed him to be strong. He swallowed his sorrow. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I was- I was walking home from the pharmacy and-” Eddie’s voice caught, his speech harsh and scratchy, the way it got after he yelled for awhile. Richie had heard his voice like that after karaoke nights with the losers or long car trips, the two of them blasting the radio and belting the words. Now the sound of it cracked open Richie’s heart.
“You’re okay.” Richie encouraged him softly.
“And I heard someone call out to me… it sounded a bit like Mike, actually.” A couple of tears finally spilled over, his whole body wracked with a shake because of the effort he was taking to contain them. Richie steered him lightly towards the bed, making him sit. “So I turned to see who it was, and I was… I was just smiling, you know? I thought it was my friend, so I smiled. And I…” He lost his voice in a choking sob. Richie knelt on the ground in front of him, taking Eddie’s shaking hands in his own in an effort to still them.
“Go on, baby.”
“It was Bowers, Richie, it was f-fucking Bowers and Criss and that whole fucking-” His tears turned angry as he lifted a hand from Richie’s to smear the tears and blood off of his face. Richie felt his stomach drop at the name. “They were in the alley outside the store, and I could hardly see their faces, because the light was glaring in my eyes, but I knew it was them.” His raspy voice shook with anger.
“What did they do, Eds.” Richie said, his voice low and calm, the way it got when he passed the point of pure rage.
“They just- well at first they just.. hollered at me. I couldn’t even really understand what they were saying.” His brow furrowed, exposing a small cut near the top of his nose. “I turned and started walking away, thinking that maybe they were talking to someone else you know, like when someone waves at you but its really for the person behind you?” His voice broke on the last word, a few more tears leaking out. Richie used his free hand to gently wipe them away, careful of the massive swelling bruise on Eddie’s cheekbone.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, well, I was wrong.” He spat bitterly. “Next thing I know Bowers is fucking… yelling at me, calling me by name, saying I was, I was-” He grew flustered, his breathing too shallow.
“Hey, it’s okay, take it slow.” Richie rubbed his shoulder, prompting Eddie to mimic his breathing patterns.
“He said I was fucking… flirting with him, Richie, can you believe that? Just because I fucking smiled in his direction.” He said after he got his breathing in control. “Then he called me… Fuck, I can’t even say it.” He looked down at his lap dejectedly, a sob wracking his body.
Richie had a pretty fucking good idea what it was.
“How dare he… How fucking dare he…” Richie said to the wall behind Eddie, his mind swirling with white hot rage.
“It gets worse.” Eddie mumbled into his lap. “I- I did something really fucking stupid.”
Richie looked back to Eddie quizzically, his brain taking a moment to comprehend.
“Eddie, you didn’t…”
“I did Richie, I fucking did. I egged him on. I fucking- I got so mad, so mad that he called me that and I- I just went off, running my mouth like I always do when I’m pissed.” Eddie looked up again, but refused to meet Richie’s eye, instead glancing over his shoulder, a pained expression on his face. “I told him to suck my fucking dick if I was such a…” He trailed off.
Richie gave him a weak smile. “If it’s any consolation, it was a good comeback.”
Eddie laughed humorlessly. “Well, he didn’t think so. Next thing I know I’m on the ground and all four of them are just… Battering away at me. I’m surprised I could get up, to be honest.” His voice dropped to a whisper.
“Why didn’t you go to the hospital, baby?” Richie said in the same quiet voice, the tears he’d been denying sneaking their way out. “You know I don’t know how to patch you up properly.”
“I’ll talk you through it.” Eddie said meekly. Richie understood.
He climbed up onto the bed with Eddie, taking him gently into his arms and laying the both of them down.
“I’m so fucking sorry they did this to you, love. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
“They would have done the same to you.” Eddie said quietly, as he grabbed a fistful of Richie’s shirt in his hand.
“Whatever you need tonight, I’ll do, okay? Anything. You just tell me. I’m here.” He combed his fingers gently through Eddie’s hair, finding parts of it tangled and matted with blood. It sent another wave of rage through him.
“That fucking Bowers, I swear to God, I’m gonna fucking kill him.”
“Richie-”
“I’m serious Eds, I don’t care what the consequences are, I’ve had enough of his bullshit-”
“Chee-”
“-And all his fucking friends too, all of them, I’m gonna fucking kill the lot-”
“Richie. Don’t talk, just kiss me.”
Richie blanched, looking down at Eddie. The smaller boy’s face rose to meet his. “What?”
“You said anything. Kiss me.”
“You’ve just been beaten within an inch of your life and you want me to kiss you. Shouldn’t I bandage something, disinfect, maybe?”
Eddie smiled softly. “You can just kiss it better.”
Richie actually found it within himself to laugh at the absurdity of the statement. “You don’t really believe in that, do you?”
Eddie gave him a look. “Maybe I do.”
And while it wasn’t enough to heal the black eye, split skin, or three broken ribs, the soft press of Richie’s lips against his was enough to mend the wound that night had torn open in his heart.
#bet u weren't expecting THIS AHAHAHA#anyways im sorry this is hearbreaking#reddie#prior.txt#prior.fic#im not sorry#it#the angst is strong with this one
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anything for you - requested
for @denbroughbill thank u again!!!
come request something?
Despite Eddie’s constant begging for him to stop, Richie’s leg still insisted on bouncing. Their whole library table was vibrating with the movement, and the words on the pages in front of Eddie swam around so much he could hardly read them.
“Richie, seriously, for the last time, can you stop that?” Eddie begged, bracing his arms on the table to try and hold it still. Bev and Bill both looked up from their books, glancing back and forth between the two.
“Eds, listen, I hear you. I don’t want me to be doing this either.” Richie waved his hand at himself dramatically. “It’s just the way things are, sweetheart.”
Eddie rolled his eyes. “No one can study with you shaking the table so much.”
Richie paused at the comment, a little hurt. He really had been trying to get his leg to stop.
“Well? Has the jury reached a verdict?” He gestured to the rest of the losers, looking at them expectantly. “Is the defendant found guilty of being a distracting asshole?”
“Richie, I didn’t mean-”
“You’re n-not bothering me.” Bill chimed in. “Ben? Mike?” Bill looked at them with an eyebrow raised. Both boys shook their heads.
“I’m with Eddie.” Stan said, not looking up from his textbook. “I know you can’t control it Richie, but I’ve been on the same paragraph for five minutes.”
“Well then, take me away bailiff!” Richie declared, somewhat in a huff, his defeat showing through the facade.
“Rich, you don’t have to leave-” Beverly started, giving him a pleading look.
“No, no, I plead guilty.” Richie started closing up his books.
“Richie, seriously, y-you don’t have to g-go.” Bill put a hand on his arm. “Lets just move tables, okay?” He nodded towards the smaller table nearby that they had all overlooked on their way in, electing for the larger one with more chairs.
“You’re exiling me to the kids table?”
“I’m going w-with you, dumbass.” Bill smiled, standing and scooping his things into his arms.
Richie sighed dramatically. “Fiiine, I guess you can come.” He smirked as he and Bill began migrating their stuff to the nearby table.
“Richie, I’m sorry-” Eddie started.
“Hey, it’s no problem Eddie Spaghetti, man’s gotta do what he’s gotta do for that degree, huh?” Richie winked as he pinched Eddie’s cheek. Eddie tried to respond with a look of indignation, but it was eclipsed by his guilt. Somehow the look made Richie feel just a bit too vindicated.
“Thanks, Bill.” Richie said quietly after they had settled in and the other losers had resumed their work. “I really don’t mean to be distracting-”
“Hey, it’s n-no problem.” Bill gave him a genuine Denbrough smile. “Anything for you, R-Rich.”
#okay so this one is def longer and better#i hope u like it!!!#thanks again for requesting feel free to ask anytime <3#this is a bit too fluffy oOps#prior.txt#prior.fic#bichie#bill denbrough#richie tozier#it#it 2017#it fic#it 2017 fic
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pop culture - chapter 2
“Adulthood in a town like Derry is even worse than childhood. The listless, empty ramblings of days dragging on in a town that felt like one-size-too-small-shoes sat heavier on the recently graduated than the younger children. Before you were eighteen and responsible for your own lunch money, you could spend your interminable afternoons exploring the surrounding environment, friends of friends abound. Escaping to the arcade and seeing the same films six times at the same theater was an acceptable amount of nothing to do at twelve years old. But when nineteen years hit Bill Denbrough and college acceptance letters didn’t, the sudden, overwhelming, nothingness of nowhere Maine became too heavy to bear.”
chapter 2 (wc: 4.3k)
previous chapter here
chapter list here
want on the tagslist?
Filtered, fading, late summer sunlight drifted lazily through Bill’s bedroom window, landing lightly on Mike’s lap. He looked down at it; it stared back at him. He could feel the gentle heat seeping through his jeans, warming his thigh. He could feel his guilt creeping in, too.
All night Bill had been up worrying himself into a frenzy. The wear was clear on his face; and Stan’s, for that matter. And here was Mike, having slept perfectly soundly.
Could he be blamed for not worrying too much? Sure, Bill’s story had been frighteningly abnormal. But was he wrong in assuming it was only a result of Bill’s continued self-isolation? He had hardly been out at all since graduation. He rarely called, rarely joined in on group outings, rarely connected. Hell, Mike couldn’t remember the last time he and Bill had gone on a bike ride, just the two of them. It was no secret he was stressed over the weight of their impending adulthood. They all were. But Bill especially had been crumbling under the pressure. Mike had just thought… well, he didn’t know what he thought.
But it certainly hadn’t helped.
“... And you’re sure this wasn’t some kind of hallucination. You didn’t smell anything funny, or eat something you usually don’t-?” Bev was asking politely as Mike tuned back into the conversation.
“I’m s-sure.”
“Dude, someone could have slipped you drugs. It happens.” Richie chimed in from the floor, a little too hopefully.
“What the fuck Richie, nobody does that.” Eddie gave him a reproachful look.
“No it totally does, it happened to my cousin once. Someone put acid in his sandwich. He’s colorblind now because of it.”
“Rich, I don’t- wait, he’s fucking colorblind now?” Eddie turned to face Richie fully.
“Bad trips man, they fuck you up.” Richie shrugged. Bill was white.
“... Thanks for that, Richie, but I don’t think your story is helping.” Stan glared at Richie, both hands now on Bill’s shoulders to steady him.
“Continue, Bill.” Ben said quietly, the only one who hadn’t yet interrupted the countenance of Bill’s experience.
“A-a-anyways… After the s-sting and after I f-fell, it st-stayed like that for a minute or so… and th-then there w-w-w-” He gave up on the word with a sigh.
“You’re okay, keep going.” Stan reminded him calmly when it seemed like Bill would not try starting his sentence again.
“Th-there was another st-sting. And then it went away.”
Eddie gulped, then leaned in to Richie to whisper in his ear.
“I think that’s very much your level of weird.”
Richie was visibly shaken.
Mike wondered what the fuck that was about.
“Bev.” Ben said suddenly, coming out of his contemplation and preventing Mike from interrogating Eddie and Richie. “Do you think this has anything to do with what you told me?” He looked at her searchingly.
She thought for a moment, weighing her words.
“Possibly.”
Stan shot her an inquiring gaze. “What is he on about?”
“I had a vision today.” Bev said plainly.
“A vision.” Mike said from his chair behind her, his tone skeptic.
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “It’s never happened quite like this before, but… when I was a kid my family thought I was a prophet. I used to have these dreams, and-”
“A prophet?!” Richie leaned over Eddie, placing a hand on the other boys knee to steady himself, and looked at Bev incredulously. “What in the fuck does that mean?”
“Exactly what you think it means, Richie. I had prophetic dreams. It stopped happening after I was in like, middle school, but they used to be fairly frequent.”
“Did you have another one?” Stan asked before Richie could open his mouth again.
“Not while I was asleep.”
Silence fell, and Mike could feel his brow knitting together in skepticism. He tried to stop the thoughts kicking at his mind; everything in him was screaming to discredit all this nonsense. The things they were talking about were… impossible! As much as he loved his friends, he had to say it, they were-
No. Be more open.
“So you had a vision. And you know it was real.” Mike said, trying to keep his tone neutral and not accusatory. Bev nodded at him over her shoulder. “Okay, then, what was it of?”
“It was… well it was Bill’s hands, cupped, holding a bird.”
Mike blinked.
“What kind of bird?” Stan asked.
Richie snorted.
“Pfft, first thing he asks about a psychic fucking vision is the bird breed, whatta nerd-”
“Beep beep, Richie.” Came Eddie’s grumbled retort.
“I don’t know, like a finch or something. A small, brown one.”
Bill looked like he was gonna hurl.
“Hey, do you need some air?” Eddie placed a hand on Bill’s knee, immediately sensing his change in demeanor. Bill shook his head, but didn’t open his mouth.
“Bev and I tried to come up with some idea of what it meant, but, we couldn’t think of anything.” Ben continued when they all felt Bill wasn’t about to keel over.
“But you think it could have to do with Bill’s finger.” Mike sat back, crossing his arms.
“There’s a chance.” Ben supplied.
Richie had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the conversation, his few comments surprisingly far between. Mike had pretended not to notice, but now he could practically see the sweat on his brow. Richie was shifting uncomfortably, and Eddie was watching him like a hawk, concern written on his face. But there was something else there too…
“Around what time of day did this happen, Bev?” Eddie asked suddenly, surprising them all.
“Just after I got off work. About noon, twelve thirty?”
Eddie gave Richie a look. “And you, Bill?”
“A-around the same time…” Bill said quietly, locking eyes with Beverly.
“Rich.” Eddie said quietly, solemnly placing his hand over Richie’s on the floor. Richie swallowed, shakily raising a hand to fix his glasses.
“Okay, Richie. What the fuck is going on with you.” Both Richie and Eddie’s faces shot around, looking at Mike with wide eyes. “You’re wigged. Something to share?”
Stan, Ben and Bev all looked to the boys confused. Bill still looked visibly shaken by Beverly’s story. Eddie looked incredibly guilty, clearly fighting the urge to blurt something out. Richie gave Mike a strange look, almost like he was fighting back the fear bubbling to the surface of his emotions. The two boys looked at each other, Eddie raising a goading eyebrow. Richie shook his head acutely, shrugging and sitting back.
“Nothing to share Mike, my boy, I’m all aces.”
“No, you’re not Richie. Spill.” Stan glared at him. Richie stared back, challenging him.
Richie lost.
“Okay, okay.” He sighed, shifting his weight and settling with his legs crossed, leaning on Eddie. “Something happened to me yesterday too.”
“Same time of day?” Ben said, turning to face Richie better, leaning against the bedpost at the foot of Bill’s bed.
“Yeah.” Richie nodded.
“Do you want me to tell them?” Eddie asked, meeting Richie’s gaze.
“Go for it, spaghetti-o.” He said in a sullen tone.
Oh, this oughtta be good.
______________________________________________________________
By the time Richie had finished his story, Stan’s head was spinning. The new revelations of the afternoon had made him feel a little better about the absurdity of Bill’s situation, but it had only made him more worried about the group as a whole. Quite a few of them were experiencing strange phenomena, and all of them were freaked. Stan, for once in his life, was totally unsure of what to do. Usually he was the level-headed one, the best at taking initiative. But with this… he had no idea what to do.
“Wait, let’s- let’s think about this.” Mike started, standing up. “We have to go over our options. Would you say we should start with figuring out the cause, yeah?” There was a chorus of agreement.
Thank god for Mike.
“So Bill says he didn’t eat anything weird. But what about Richie and Bev?”
“I only had diner food. My usual.”
“I hadn’t eaten anything at that point.”
“You- did you have any food before you got to my house?” Eddie snapped.
“Uh, no?”
“Richie you went all day without eating?! You got to my house at like, midnight!”
“Relax Eds, I do this all time-”
“You do this all the time-!?”
“What about smells.” Mike interjected, giving Eddie an annoyed look. “Literally, anything out of the ordinary you can think of.”
“Other than my fucking ghost of breakfasts past experience you mean?” Richie quipped. “Maybe I had some bunk pancakes, maybe that's why my fucking stomach disappeared!”
Stan was a little shocked at the harshness of the comment. “We’re just trying to figure out what the fuck happened, you don’t have to be a dick about it.”
Richie looked at his lap ashamed. “Sorry.” He mumbled.
The group sat in silence, contemplating, a million thoughts racing through the stagnant air in Bill’s bedroom.
One of them, coagulating, dread filling the room as the light bulb clicked for each of them.
“You don’t think…” Bev said, looking up at Stan and Bill.
“Of course I think.” Stan said after a moment. “How could we be so stupid, of course its-”
“Wait wait wait, you guys aren’t serious, are you?” Mike sighed. “There’s no way-”
“Do you really think there’s any other explanation, Mike?” Ben rejoined.
Eddie and Richie shared a look that ended in the both of them groaning, Eddie resting his head in his hands.
“What? What’s wrong with you two?”
“I can’t believe we didn’t think of that.” Eddie muttered. “For hours we kept going over it, and it never crossed our minds.”
“Shoulda been the first thing that came up.” Richie flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling.
“Do you realize what you’re even insinuating here, guys?” Mike started pacing. “The idea that, well, that- had anything to do with this crazy shit? It’s un-fucking-believable.”
“And what else was it, huh? We all saw it, we all knew something was up, it has to be the reason!” Stan said, standing up. Bill glanced up at his back, almost whining at the loss of his friend (that he had been leaning heavily on) next to him.
“There’s got to be some kind of connection.” Ben stood as well, walking to the window. “I mean, I don’t know about you guys, but the memory is.. Kinda fuzzy for me. I can’t really think of the specifics of what happened but… that’s gotta be it.”
Bill looked down at his sheets. “I don’t really r-r-remember either.”
“So even if this thing did something to us, how the fuck does that work?” Eddie asked, stress clear on his face. Richie noticed and raised his hand to rub circles on the smaller boys back.
“Beats me.” Mike groaned. “But I seriously doubt it.”
“I think we should go back.” Bev said, determined.
“Are you insane?” Eddie looked over at her. “We should never go back!”
“Hey, why not, Eds.” Richie said, sitting up and putting an arm around Eddie. “It could help us find answers.”
“Well you can go without me.” Eddie pouted.
“Hell n-no.” Bill said firmly, his voice finally regaining a normal volume. “We have to go back together. A-all of us.”
“There’s no way I’m doing that!” Eddie shot up, pushing Richie away. “That thing gave me the fucking creeps and I don’t want to be near it again! If it’s- if it’s what did this then we should stay away from it! We’re lucky we didn’t die!”
“Eddie-”
“Don’t Eddie me, Bev! I’m serious, I’m not going!”
Silence fell.
Richie got up.
He and Eddie shared a look.
Eddie lost.
______________________________________________________________
Mike’s old Toyota trundled down the old gravel logging road, the radio playing softly over the slight breeze and the crunch of the tires. Bill had brought his dad’s favorite Blues Brothers cassette, and the opening notes of “B” Movie Boxcar Blues filled the cab of the truck. Bill sat center, between their trusty chauffeur and Stan, who maintained that riding in the back of a truck would be his cause of death someday. In the back, Richie and Eddie took the left side, while Ben and Bev huddled together under their picnic blanket. The picnic in question, a large woven basket taken from Mrs. Denbrough’s inexplicably large collection, filled with snacks and homemade sandwiches, sat in the bed of the truck between them. Bev and Richie were passing a cigarette back and forth across the space, and Eddie scowled everytime Richie got up to grab it from her, peeved at the loss of the heat. He was stupidly wearing only a thin grey cotton hoodie, and he was mourning his thicker coat still hanging up at home. When the cigarette was done, Richie settled in for the length of the ride against Eddie, resting a head on his shoulder and looping his arm through Eddie’s. He tried to ignore the heat in his cheeks. They were just chapped from the wind.
______________________________________________________________
“C’mon jackasses, I told you it’s just right around here!”
“Tozier, slow the fuck down, you’re gonna get yourself killed!”
“Relax, Staniel, I’m a professional.”
“Professional asshole.” Eddie mumbled, struggling to find a good grip.
“Professional rock climber first, professional asshole second.” He winked over his shoulder at Eddie, disappearing as he crested the bluff.
“What’s so important that we have to climb all the way up there?” Ben called from the back of the group, groaning at the ascent ahead of him.
“I don’t kn-know, we’ve lost him.” Bill called back, backpack hanging loosely off his shoulders and threatening to fall in Stan’s face.
“Just- keep going you guys.” Mike said through gritted teeth, hauling himself up where Richie had just vanished.
“I don’t even wanna see this dumb thing anyways.” Ben sighed, climbing up after Beverly, who was shyly giggling at Ben’s protests.
Richie’s curls popped out over the edge, followed by his stupid shit-eating grin, right in Eddie’s line of sight as he reached the top. Eddie shrieked and lost his grip, hands flailing as he started going backwards. Richie reached down and grabbed his wrists.
“Jesus Christ Eds, you should be more careful down there.”
“Oh fuck you, Tozier, you scared me!” Bill and Stan shared a bought of laughter below them. “It’s not funny, Denbrough!” Eddie glared down at them. They kept laughing anyway.
Richie proceeded to pull Eddie up over the edge. He had brought them to a grassy bluff, which stretched on to the edges of a forest, a good mile or so past them. The open field was beautiful. Eddie stared in wonder up at the open expanse of the night sky. It was a clear Saturday night; by now it had passed midnight and would count as early Sunday. He walked forward, pulling the sleeves of his sweater back down and shivering lightly. He was mesmerized, as the rest of the losers one by one climbed over the edge to join him, Mike, and Richie.
“Wow.” Beverly sighed, looking up at the sky. “This is a much better view than the quarry.
“Please tell me you didn’t drag us all the way up here for the view.” Stan glared at Richie, who was looking frantically around the clearing.
“No, Stan, I told you, I saw it land over here.” Richie responded distractedly. “It’s gotta be up here somewhere.”
“So to answer your question Stan, no, we came up here to chase Richie’s falling star.” Bev mocked, rolling her eyes as they all started to follow Richie, who had started trudging across the clearing.
“The one only he saw?” Mike laughed with her.
“Hey, I saw it too.” Eddie said defensively.
Bill and Stan shared a look. Bill shrugged. “I’ll a-a-admit it. I saw it t-too.”
“I think we would have felt it if something crash-landed this close to us, Rich.” Ben mumbled. “Besides-”
Everyone fell silent as they reached a downward curve in the clearing. As the plain tilted down towards the treeline, they came to a halt at the top of the hill.
Down where the grass plateaued into flatland and met the trees, was a deep, gaping hole in the earth, a blueish green light pulsating from its center.
“Holy shit.” About half of them muttered simultaneously.
“HA!” Richie turned to face the group from his end on the left. “I fucking told you!”
And then he promptly ran all the way down the fucking hill towards it.
“Richie, what the fuck?!” Eddie screeched after him, torn between fear and frustration, afraid to move. Bill and Mike quickly looked at each other before running down after Richie. Ben and Bev joined hands and followed down at a cautious walk, leaving Eddie and Stan at the top of the hill.
“God they’re so fucking- this is- this is stupid! We shouldn’t be going near that thing!”
“You’re preaching to the choir here, Eddie. No fucking way I’m going down there.”
“Guys! GUYS GET THE FUCK BACK UP HERE!”
“QUIT YOUR SCREECHING EDS! THIS THING’S FUCKIN LEGIT, GET DOWN HERE!”
“NO FUCKING WAY!” Eddie shook his head violently, his breathing growing quicker. “I’M STAYING RIGHT HERE!”
“SUIT YOURSELF, PUSSY!”
“Beep beep, Richie.” Mike shot him a look as they all formed a circle around the hole.
“Sorry, sorry, I just wish they’d come down here and look at this shit!”
“They’ll come when they’re ready.” Bev gave him a placating look.
“Bill, you got my camera in there?” Ben said, pointing towards the backpack.
“Yeah, h-here.” Bill shrugged off the bag and unzipped it, holding it out so Ben could pull out his portable film camera. He waved Bill and Bev to scoot back, then leaned forward over the pit and started snapping photos.
“This has gotta be the thing I saw. It’s a fuckin meteor or some shit.” Richie said excitedly.
“I’m sure Stan would know better, if he would come look at it.” Mike interjected. “Dude’s a science whiz.”
“Doesn’t mean he’s the presiding authority, Mike and Ike! I happen to know quite a lot about science myself.” Richie put his hands on his hips. “First rule of science; hypothesis. What’s ours, ladies and gents?”
“It’s a rock from space?” Beverly supplied.
“Yes, but you have to phrase it smart-like.” Richie snap-pointed in exuberance.
“This rock’s origin is unknown, but is definitely from somewhere beyond Earth.”
“That’s the ticket, Mike! Now, how do we prove it?”
“Guessing?” Bill snorted.
“No, dear Billiam! One word: experimentation.”
A devilish smile crept onto Richie’s face. Bill went white.
“No. R-Rich, no-”
“Tally-ho!”
And with that, Richie Tozier dove down the hole, feet first.
______________________________________________________________
Stan doesn’t think he’s ever heard Eddie Kaspbrak screech so loudly.
Or seen him run so fast.
“Richie! Richie, get out of there!” The other losers were crowded around the hole, calling down to Richie, who had disappeared completely into the darkness of the pit. Stan ran begrudgingly down to the group after Eddie, who vaulted past the others and practically catapulted himself into the hole after Richie.
“Eddie, no!” Ben called, gaping at him as he watched the smaller boy descend.
“Christ guys, get out of there!” Mike yelled, leaning his face down into the hole. “Jesus, I can’t see shit-”
“Do you have a flashlight in there?” Bev said, gesturing at Bill’s bag.
“It m-might not have battery life, b-but yeah.” Bill pulled an old flashlight of his dad’s out of his bag. It took a few smacks to get it to turn on, but once the beam shined true he handed it over to Mike, who resumed his inspection of the hole.
“I can’t see them at all.” Mike grumbled. “It goes on for awhile.”
“I’m going in.” Ben said, handing his camera to Bev.
“No, no way. We just need to get them to climb back out.” Bev said, gripping his hands.
“Richie! Ed! Come on, get out of there!” Mike called down the hole. No response.
“Guys, seriously, what if they’re stuck down there-” Ben protested.
“RICHARD TOZIER! EDWARD KASPBRAK! GET YOUR ASSES BACK UP HERE!” Mike bellowed, before scrambling back from the hole in surprise.
“Jesus, Michael, no need to get formal on us.” Richie smiled up at him as he climbed up out of the pit. “We found something.”
“For fuck’s sake Tozier, you scared the shit out of us.” Ben breathed, relief coursing through him. “Where’s Eddie?”
“I’m here!” Came Eddie’s muffled voice, and his left hand reaching up out of the hole next to Richie. Richie moved out of the way and reached down to pull Eddie out, which resulted in the two of them tumbling over and landing side by side on the ground, Eddie on his stomach.
“We found something.” He declared into the grass.
“So we’ve been told.” Bev raised an eyebrow.
“Look at this.” Richie said in a hushed tone, pulling something from his pocket as Mike helped Eddie to his feet. Richie stood, object in hand, as they all crowded round to see.
In the palm of Richie’s hand sat a rock of some kind, no bigger than a baseball, that was glowing.
The center was a pulsating blue, the greenish hues more visible the closer to the edges the light got. It was rough and crystalline in form, with bits of black and rough particles mixed in around it. The light was low and flickering, much darker than what had been visible from the top of the hill. Beverly gasped in awe, immediately reaching out to take it in her own hands.
“Wow.” She breathed, in awe of the sight. Ben immediately leveled his camera to take a picture. (Multiple. Certainly because of the cool space rock. Totally not because of Beverly’s beautiful expression.)
“What the fuck is that…” Stan pondered quietly, as he and Bill went to take the stone from Bev. They each used a hand to hold both ends, examining the underneath as they raised it above their heads. They passed it to Mike, looking at each other in confusion.
“Is it… getting brighter?” Mike pondered as he held the stone in one hand.
“Sort of looks like it is.” Ben said, repositioning Mike’s hand so he could get a better picture of the stone before taking it in his hand himself. “It feels kind of warm.” He took another shot of it in his palm.
“It wasn’t warm when we picked it up-” Eddie grabbed the stone from Ben, holding it level with his face so he could inspect it closely. He suddenly hissed in pain and dropped it. “Ow, fuck!”
The dew-covered grass where the stone landed began to sizzle. “Whoa, Eddie, you okay?” Richie grabbed at Eddie’s hand, inspecting it for a burn mark.
“That thing fucking burned me!”
The light from the stone grew brighter.
“Uh, guys?”
“You don’t have a mark-”
The hue grew more green, a deep, true green.
“Guys!”
“I think I know when I’ve been burned, Richie-”
“Guys, move!”
And then, there was light.
______________________________________________________________
Bill shook his head as he sat up, grass and dirt clinging to his cheek. To his left was a disgruntled Stan, face down in the grass as he tried to push himself up with his arms.
Across the field, about twenty yards away from him was Beverly. She wasn’t stirring. Beyond her, a few more yards to her left, was Ben, who was hoisting himself into a kneeling position.
Bill turned the other way to see Mike, closer by. He was groaning, and pretty soon Bev’s disdain joined his. Beyond Mike, nearly fifty yards away, Richie was shaking a limp form.
Oh god.
Bill was on his feet as quickly as possible, but hadn’t accounted for the effect the shock would have on his body. He went down almost immediately, bile rising in his stomach as he landed on all fours.
“Eddie! Eddie!” Richie’s frantic shouts started to float across the expanse, each of the others realizing what was going on and attempting to stumble their way over to the two boys.
Bill went directly past the pit as he made his way to the others. He passed the charred spot in the grass where the stone had landed.
It was gone.
“Eddie!” Richie was growing more and more frantic, the panic clear on his face when Mike reached them first.
“Rich, Rich, let go, give him some air.” Mike said calmly as he tried to lay Eddie out flat.
“Why won’t he wake up?!”
“Hey, hey, he’s been knocked pretty hard, okay? It’s gonna take him a minute, shaking him won’t help.” Richie took a shuddering breath, but hesitantly nodded.
Bill and Stan came running over, before kneeling down on either side of Richie. Bev and Ben stood behind them when they arrived, looking down at Eddie’s quiet form with worry.
“Eddie, hey, time to wake up now.” Mike said in a gentle tone, lightly tapping Eddie’s face. A small trail of blood started running out of Eddie’s nose.
Richie lost his shit.
“Eds- Eds, oh my god, look at his nose!” He cried, reaching out to wipe the blood away and shake his face.
“Richie! Be careful with him, he could have a concussion!” Mike yelled, trying to pull Richie’s hands away. The scuffle jostled Eddie more, but the boy still didn’t stir. When Mike was finally able to pull Richie away, and Stan and Bill got ahold of his hands to keep him from reaching out again, they heard a small intake of breath.
“What th-... what the fuck?”
“Eddie!”
Richie lost his handlers and immediately scooped the smaller boy into his arms. “Jesus fucking Christ Eds, you scared the shit out of me.”
“What the fuck happened?” He muttered, rubbing a sore spot on his head.
“That thing fucking exploded.” Stan said plainly. “Right over-” He trailed off as they all turned to look at where the stone had dropped, and they saw nothing but an empty field.
authors notes: here’s a good old flashback sequence for yall!!! i hope maybe soon any questions you have will start to get answered <3 again, a huge thanks to my lovely beta and bff @richiefreakingtozier, the goddess that is sara (follow her u dingnuts!!!) please give a like or a reblog if u enjoyed!!!!
tagslist: @richiefreakingtozier @s-s-stutteringbill @gazeboseddie @misssiriusblack @mythgirl96 @swiffybird @reddieaddict @wincestklaine @beepbeep-losers @ayyyymichele @ttrxshmouth
my askbox: requests are always open!
my posts
full fic here
popcultureverse posts
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to whomth it may concern
in case anyone is ever wondering abt my update/writing schedule, here’s the sitch!
next week im going on a business trip (exciting, i know, im a fancy adult) and will be working nonstop for abt a week and a half (im done right around valentines) between now and possibly during that, i’ll be working on my piece for the it fandom secret admirers gift exchange, so i won’t be putting up any new chapters for any wips i have going. when i am back from that trip, i will be attempting (attempting) to put out a new chapter for at least one of my wips every week and a half to two weeks. im p busy working and trying to be an adult and such BUT im hoping that a stricter writing schedule will help me actually get things out there.
anyways under the cut are my current projects, if you have one you’d like to see more than the others, let me know! ill try to prioritize based on demand, but as always, it’ll really come down to what im inspired to write.
and as always, you’re more than welcome to send prompts in if you’d like something outside of one of my multichapters! i love to write for you guys, so request away! please be patient tho x
current/upcoming wips:
pop culture: losers club super power au. currently being edited & having the soundtrack inserted. current word count: 21k. pairings: reddie, benverly, stenbrough eventually turned stenbranlon. ask to be on the tagslist/yell at me to write more
ridiculus: losers club harry potter au. current word count: 8.2k. reddie est. in the prologue, pairs will be temporary billverly turned benverly, undecided between hanbrough & stenbrough. ask to be on the tagslist/tell me which pairings you’d like/yell at me to write more
to (un)boldly go: losers club star trek au. not written yet, but it will be. established reddie, undecided other pairings, might just do space lesbian bev because literally why the fuck not. ask to be tagged when it premiers/tell me which pairings you’d like/ask me who the captain is
other:
a potential sequel to the piece im working on for the gift exchange?
an alternate hogwarts au bc tbh idk if i like where i sorted the losers?
some kind of older reddie au with eddie as a professor bc i didn’t know i needed that but now i need it?
tell me what u guys want from me!!!!!!!! other wise going forward im just going to trade off chapters of pop culture, ridiculus and unboldly go based on whatever my whims are lmao
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its almost midnight - requested
for @denbroughbill thank u love!!!
come request something?
Richie stretched out his left arm, yawning his biggest yawn of the evening yet. Bill shot him a sideways glance, marveling at how long it was lasting.
“J-jeez Tozier, tired much?”
“Screw you Billiam, it’s almost midnight. I have a right to be tired.”
“Weakling.” Bill mumbled, guiding his character through the checkpoint on the screen. “C-cmon, catch up. I’m already at the e-e-edge of the screen.”
“Ex-cyuuuuuuu-se me.” Richie mocked, settling back down into his beanbag and resuming his gameplay. “Sorry for being a person.”
“You know you’re not allowed.” Bill smirked, killing a goon in one swift maneuver.
“Apologies, your highness.” Richie muttered, smashing his buttons haphazardly, barely managing to vanquish his foe before it got him.
“You’re sh-shit at this game.”
“And you’re shit at sucking dick Billiam-”
“Beep beep, Richie.”
Silence fell over the two as they waited for the next level to load.
“Wait, am I-?”
“What?” Richie shot him a look.
“Shit at- you know-”
Richie didn’t stop guffawing until around one in the morning.
#sorry this is hella short#im gonna be honest this isnt my ship so im v uninspired#but if bitchie is anything they are the definition of video game boyfriends#anyways i hope u like love <3#sorry u had to wait#prior.txt#prior.fic#bichie#bill denbrough#richie tozier#it#it 2017#it 2017 fic#it fic
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this post got fucked up read the real fic here
#prior.txt#prior.fic#popcultureverse#wow wow wow im snervous postin this#anyways hope yall like it <3#it#it 2017#it fic#it 2017 fic#losers club#the losers club#losers club fic#the losers club fic#super power au#super au#aged up#bill denbrough#richie tozier#eddie kaspbrak#mike hanlon#ben hanscom#beverly marsh#stan uris#stanley uris#reddie#yes there will be reddie in the future#stenbrough#also stenbrough#benverly#and yes im a ho for benverly sue me
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listen I need angst with a happy ending it’s what i live for so 22 with reddie pls Liza ur the best i love u
guess who’s here to fuck u up
this one is also set in the pop culture universe!
______________________________________________________________
The click of the lock sliding into place was like a deadbolt sliding into Eddie’s heart.
“No.” The small protest slipped from his lips, repeating and growing in fervor as he grasped the handle and shook it, to no avail. “No no no no no. Richie, please, baby, open the door.”
A hoarse voice objected with only a weak sound. It twisted in Eddie’s ear and echoed, sitting and festering in the crack in his chest.
“Richie, you have to let me in so I can help you.” He was quickly losing a grip on his calm demeanor, panic rising in his belly as he foolishly tried the locked door again.
“Can’t.” Richie gritted out, voice thick with the effort he was taking to speak through the pain.
“Can you move?”
No response.
“Richie?!” Eddie called his name desperately, yanking at the handle like he could somehow force it open.
“No. I can’t.” He called back, voice just as affected as before. Eddie let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and tried to collect himself, pushing back against the fear.
“Okay. When you can, unlock the door for me, okay?”
“No.”
Eddie blanched, his heart falling into his stomach.
“What do you mean, no?”
“I don’t-” He paused, a sharp hiss of pain breaking his speech. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Richard, I have seen you change already. This isn’t new.”
Again, silence.
“You know I don’t care about it, Richie! I just want to help you!”
Nothing.
“Please. Please let me come help you.” He rested his forehead against the door.
“You can’t.” Richie’s quiet, broken voice barely found his ears.
“Then just let me hold you, at least.” Eddie wasn’t sure if he could hear him as he spoke just as softly.
He took the lack of response to mean Richie didn’t.
“Please.”
Quiet.
“I love you.”
A beat.
“I love you too.”
Richie’s voice sounded closer, like he’d managed to turn himself around or scoot closer to the door. Eddie thought maybe Richie was sitting with his back up against it, but knew he wouldn’t be able to see even if he were in the bathroom with him.
“Will you let me in?” Eddie sunk down on his side, on his knees as he faced the wood.
“Can’t.”
Eddie sighed, resigned.
“Then I’m going to stay right here until you can.”
On the other side, Richie felt a light caress on the back of his hand. Looking down through the translucent skin, he could see little vines creeping their way beneath the crack of the door, curling up towards his invisible hand like it was much needed sunlight.
______________________________________________________________
oops you said happy ending? yikes sorry
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ooooh "A taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips" with reddie bls!!! 💖
okay so i’m sure u probably were expecting something cute n flirty but guess who decided to get angsty as fuck on ur ass. sorry! (i’m not) (its also like… a teeny bit of an ad-lib but u kno) thank u for requesting bia ily
the following is a scene that is part of the pop culture universe and will reappear in a later chapter
if ur tagged, i have u on my tagslist, its just my general one i’ll tag all my writing with from now on.
send me a request off this list???
________________________________________________________________
“I don’t think I can keep doing this, Rich!”
Richie’s eyebrows shot up in response, furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”
“This!” He gestured wildly between them, hands shaking as he took heaving breaths. The tension rolling off the both of them in waves filled the room rapidly, like a swimming pool of brutality and confessions on edges of tongues. He could tell Eddie was gearing up to spill out something palpable, to chum the waters they stood in and make it all the more real. Even as the other man was opening his mouth and closing it rapidly, still mulling over how to continue, Richie prayed he’d stay silent, almost seeing the metaphorical drops of water spewing from his throat to add to the growing ocean in the room.
Stop with the gross fucking visuals Tozier. Get it together.
“And you! And- all of this… I don’t know! I don’t know Richie. I just can’t anymore. There’s not enough…”
“Enough what?” Richie asked, against his better judgement.
“Enough honesty!” Eddie surprised them both with his volume. “Enough seriousness! It’s like this whole thing is a joke to you, like we’re a joke to you-”
“You want me to get serious about us, Eds?” Richie asked incredulously. “How can I? You won’t even talk about it!” He found himself heating up too, face and ears no doubt bright red as his anger spiked. “You’re one to fucking talk about honesty, Eddie. You haven’t said something real to me since we were thirteen.”
“I’ll give you something fucking real-” Eddie ground out through gritted teeth, hands clenching into fists. Richie began to imagine the water they stood in freezing over, holding them in place.
“Like what!” Richie mimicked his position, fearing Eddie would burn a hole right through that ice and launch himself across the room, fists blazing.
“I don’t- ugh!” He yelled in frustration, his hands flying up to cover his face. “You can’t just turn this around on me!”
“Yes I can, you’re being a fucking hypocrite!” Richie trembled after this, regretting his words immediately, knowing full well they were true and he was in the right, but also knowing Eddie hated being called out for it. “Look, Eddie, you can’t just ask me to be the one to be perfect all the time. You’ve got shit you need to work on too.” He tried to put it softly, he really did; but as with much of Richie’s intended actions, he found them less effective than planned.
“That doesn’t mean you have an excuse to ignore what you do!” Eddie looked at him then, that terrifying fire in his eyes, and for a moment Richie was struck with just how serious the ramifications of this fight could be.
“And what do I do, Edward.” Richie mocked.
“You never say how you feel! You don’t- you don’t tell me what you see- fuck!” Eddie’s hands went back to his face, his frustration clear. Eddie was never good at forming sentences when he was angry.
“Neither do you.” Richie spat quietly, words like venom.
“Excuse me?” Eddie glowered at him.
“Fucking neither do you!”
“Yes I do!”
“Really? Prove it right now! Tell me exactly how you feel about me!”
“I- I can’t-”
Richie could tell you exactly where he went wrong. It wasn’t the mocking body language: hands on his hips, eyebrows raised, foot nearly tapping as he leaned in. It wasn’t the devious, evil smirk on his face, or the tone to his voice as he said his next piece. It wasn’t even a combination of all those things, because without them the words would have still hurt just as much.
Richie lost it at this.
“What, you gonna say that you love me?”
Eddie’s face turned a deep, angry puce as he sputtered. A single sentence had never elicited such a response out of him, never pulled such pure rage like a tooth right out of his head. Richie watched in near horror as Eddie shook violently, clearly using every last bit of energy he had to contain himself. Seeing the nerve it struck sent Richie into a panicked frenzy, the weight of it dawning on him and making him feel like the room had filled all the way up, and he was drowning.
“Eddie-” He tried gingerly, remorse coloring his tone as Eddie took deep breaths in through flared nostrils. “I’m sorry, that- that was uncalled for-”
“You. Absolute. Asshole.” Eddie managed between labored breaths. “You FUCKHEAD!” Richie flinched away from Eddie’s raised voice. “I can’t BELIEVE you!”
Since he was already in deep, nothing much stopped Richie from stopping himself from making it worse.
“What, like it’s not true! Admit it, you do!”
“YOU THINK I WOULDN’T TELL YOU THAT EVERY DAY IF IT WERE TRUE?!”
They both froze in shock, Eddie’s words stuck like slime in the air, coating and dripping down the walls.
“You think I’d-” And there was that tone again, the one that made Richie feel like someone was burning him alive. The anger singed with choked-up tears, a state he hated seeing Eddie in. One he was responsible for. “You think I’d ever stop saying it if I could?”
Richie just blinked, near comically, magnified by his glasses.
“I want to.” Eddie’s voice was surprisingly firm, gaining confidence as he continued. “God do I fucking want to. But what happens if I do, Rich? What happens? Do you say it back? Do you laugh at me? Do you do finger guns and crack some fucking joke about how gay that is, despite the multiple times you’ve kissed me and acted like you liked it?!” He was on a roll, surprising Richie and making him proud by how much power he was giving himself, the confidence behind his scolding. The ice is melting. “Do you run away? Do you tell all our friends and make fun of me with them? Do you tell the whole town and send them on a witch hunt after me? I don’t know what you’ll do! I don’t know because despite all the little looks and the- the fucking kisses and cheek pinching and hugs and comfort and closeness you won’t just say that you care about me! You won’t just say that you need me, or that you love me, or whatever you’re feeling! You won’t just say it and I-” Here the confidence started to dissolve. “I need you to say it first. I need to know. So I don’t make a fucking fool of myself.”
Richie was flabbergasted. They stood staring wide eyed at each other, Eddie’s chest heaving from the exertion.
“Say it.”
“What?”
“Eddie, say it. Say it and see what I do.”
“Richie-”
“Just go ahead.”
Just say it.
The ice is melted.
“Rich, I- I love you.”
Move.
Richie’s feet started as soon as the thought blossomed, crossing the room in a few short strides, all hesitance and uncertainty leaving his body.
“I love you too.”
And then he’s scooping Eddie up, his arms around the boy and his lips capturing Eddie’s in a searing kiss, one hand weaving up to grip the back of Eddie’s head. He keeps walking, feet moving without aim, only stopping when they hit a wall, and they have no choice. Richie holds Eddie there, using his lips to say what his voice doesn’t know how to. He kisses and he’s sorry. He kisses and he loves him. He kisses and he is proud, he is committed, he is whole. He kisses and kisses and kisses until air is gone and there’s nothing but fire in his lungs and that’s all he wants to breathe, because that fire is Eddie and the ice is gone and they’re not stuck they’re light beams.
Being all too human, he has to come up for it eventually.
“I love you Eddie, I really do.” He pants, his words light on exhalation.
“Then why haven’t you said it?” Eddie sighs back as Richie’s lips roam his face, kissing the high spots of color, kissing away the anger.
“I didn’t know you were waiting.” He said, honestly. “If I’d known I’d been allowed to say it, I would have told you years ago.” He punctuates his admission with another bruising kiss to Eddie’s lips, fingers tangled in the curls at the nape of Eddie’s neck.
Eddie pulled back after a moment to breathe, his hands on Richie’s chest.
“Years?”
“Fucking years.”
So Richie kisses him. He kisses for years.
________________________________________________________________
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#prior.txt#prior.fic#reddie#reddie fic#it#it 2017#richie tozier#eddie kaspbrak#anywaaaayyyyys sorry?#hope yall enjoy <33
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