#WE HAVE SUPER TALL CEILINGS SO I COULD SWING IN A BIG CIRCLE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

winterscaptain · 4 years ago

Note

directors commentary on mistletoe please!!!!

as promised - here it is! all the text of mistletoe is there, with my commentary in bold italics :)

“Merry Everything, Dave!” You accept a glass of champagne and a kiss from Rossi as you step into the house, and cross over to Emily by the dining room table to pick up a little snack. Aaron’s in the dining room with JJ, setting the table with the boys (who have been here since the early afternoon). He brought your food with his earlier in the day, and all of it is in the fridge waiting to go on the table.

Tonight is the big Christmas Eve dinner, and the rest of the festivities happen the day after Christmas, when the team and the kids get together to open their presents from each other.

Crossing to the doorway with Emily, you linger at the edge of the kitchen.

“Oh hell yeah!” Emily crows, looking up in response to JJ’s pointed look and grin - the mistletoe smiles down at you with its red bow, hanging from the doorway. She takes your face in one of her strong, gentle hands and plants a very real, very chaste kiss on your lips. You laugh and clink your champagne glass with hers. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Em.”

This scene popped fully formed into my head the second I thought of a holiday fic. I was like “oh absolutely Emily is going to have a field day with this.”

I originally had about seven different mini-scenes with different team members getting caught under the mistletoe, but I thought it best to stay focused in this really critical part of the story. I’ll include them in future fics, for sure!

+++

Jack runs up to you and you catch him when he jumps, swinging him in a circle. He’s almost too tall (and if anyone asks, he’s six, so he’s a big boy now), but you figure you should savor whatever you get while it lasts. He latches on to you and you let him hang off your hip as you walk back into the living room.

There’s nothing I love more than Jack just glomming onto Reader or any other team member. It’s like an instant hit of serotonin.

You perch with him on the edge of the sofa next to Derek, who’s entertaining Henry with a couple of excellent fire trucks.

This little picture here was straight out of a hallmark movie. I wanted to go into more detail, but I felt like it got bogged down. Basically, Derek’s sitting on the end of the sofa, leaning against the arm, while Henry’s basically sitting on his feet playing with the trucks. He’s minding Henry, leaning down every once in a while. Reader comes and sits on the arm, leaning against Derek, Jack-in-lap.

All in all, very cute.

When you catch JJ’s eye, she grins and looks up. Lo and behold, a sprig of mistletoe is tracked to the ceiling over your head. Jack follows your gaze and looks at you with a little question in his eyes.

In hushed tones, you explain. “So, Jack, there’s a tradition where if you land under mistletoe with someone,” you point at the little plants, scattered all over the arches, light fixtures, and random parts of the ceiling, “you give each other a kiss.”

He looks at you, wide eyed.

“Because it’s you and me, you don’t have to kiss on the lips like the grown ups do. We can give each other a hug or kiss each other on the cheek or anything you want.”

He sits back in your arms, thinking. Finally deciding, “I want to do what the grown ups do.”

Of course.

You smile at him and wait for him to come to you, which he does. He pecks you on the lips and immediately dissolves into giggles. You tuck him under your chin with a hand on the back of his head, rocking back and forth a little in your own laughter.

Writing kids is one of my favorite things. There’s something so magical about how delighted they are by so much of the world around them.

You look at Aaron over Jack’s head, finding him with a soft smile and beer in his hand.

Don’t give yourself away. Your smile says.

His eyes flicker up in an almost-eye roll and he takes a sip of his drink. I’m allowed to look at my kid.

You give him that one, and it’s a good enough cover.

The way I pictured this little tableau was completely in the third person, maybe from Emily or Dave’s POV? Like someone on the other side of the room just sees them staring at each other, clearly having a sub-social conversation and completely oblivious to the people around them.

It’s almost like the image of a duel. Reader’s on one side of the room with Jack, and Aaron is on the other side, leaning against something (maybe another couch, maybe a fireplace, idk. I always kind of picture Dave’s mansion as my childhood friend Maddie’s house. idk.) and it’s so clear they only have eyes for each other.

It does, however, escape your notice that Dave and Emily have put their heads together, whispering.

“They look a proper family, don’t they?” Dave asks.

Emily nods. “I think they��ve been one for a while, they just don’t know it yet.”

“Give them a little credit. They might know something.”

Emily snorts, and Dave relents.

“Alright, maybe that’s too much credit.”

The ongoing motif of the team trying to sus out if they’ve admitted their feelings to THEMSELVES - not even each other - is one of my favorite parts of this series. Aaron and Mom have them so thoroughly fooled without even trying, just by being repressed idiots who habitually steamroll their own feelings.

+++

“Uh oh, Hotch.” JJ grins, her gaze flickering first to Will, then Emily.

You look up and find mistletoe over your heads, hanging from the pot rack above the island.

He looks at you, shrugs, and you kiss each other on the cheek like it’s nothing.

He’s such a shit.

This is the first moment of this fic that popped into my head. All I wanted was for them to play coy under the mistletoe and for Emily to tease them within an inch of their lives before they almost give themselves away.

“Oh come on Hotch, you can do better than that. I did!” Emily smirks at him. “A real kiss. C’mon.”

For the sake of the game, you look up at him, playing at shyness, and say, “You don’t have to, it’s okay.”

He rolls his eyes and takes your face in his hands, pressing a soft, surprisingly deep, close-mouthed kiss to your lips. Looking up at Emily, he quirks an eyebrow. “Happy?”

There’s this little moment where they totally get lost in each other. I didn’t explicitly write it in, but it’s kind of in-between the lines. They have to remind themselves of the eyes watching them, because kissing each other has become so part of their life :’)

They were so deprived for so long that every time is like the first time.

Her cheeks are pink and she feels like she’s just stepped over some kind of line, but doesn’t know what or where it is. She recovers. “Much better.” Hopping off the counter, she retreats to the living room, leaving you alone with Aaron in the kitchen.

“I think you nearly killed her with that,” you say, picking up your glass of water from the counter.

He shrugs. “We’ve done worse, don’t you think?”

Your mind wanders to the night before, and heat shoots through you. “But they don’t know about that.”

Heated brown eyes look down at you, and you shift a little in your chair. “Yeah, but I do.”

That was another line of dialogue that I was itching to include. I’d had it in the outtakes for ages, and was so excited to finally find a home for it.

Before you can respond, Jack runs up to you and tugs on your shirt, calling your name until you kneel in front of him.

“What’s up, bud?”

“I have a secret question for you,” he says, very matter-of-fact.

Your eyebrows raise and you lift him up onto the counter so you can meet his eye. “A secret question?”

He nods, cupping his hands around his mouth and whispering into your ear. “Are you and me and dad having another sleepover tonight?”

You look at Aaron for a second before placing your hands around your mouth to reply. “Maybe. We have to see how tired we are after the party. Can you ask your dad a little later?”

He nods, but your hands stay put - there’s more to say. His little hands reach for you, resting lightly around your wrists as he leans into you.

“Hey, I’m really proud of you for asking me in a secret way. I know you and your dad talked about how our sleepovers are something we keep special just for the three of us, and I really appreciate your mindfulness tonight.” You lean back and kiss his forehead. “Super proud of you, bug.”

Establishing the kinship between Reader and Jack is super important to me. Parental, yet with different boundaries than Jack has with Aaron. This was one of the more parent-child moments, where Aaron can really see that Reader is becoming someone Jack trusts, someone who fills a similar role to himself in Jack’s life.

He grins at you and jumps off the counter, running back to the train he’s building with Henry - the annual ridiculous purchase from Uncle Rossi to keep the kids entertained while the adults actually enjoy Christmas Eve.

“What was that about?”

“Your son is just like you, you know that?”

He takes a sip of his beer. “How so?”

“He’s good at keeping secrets.”

There was more to this, but I honestly can’t remember what I cut here. It might have been another kiss, but I figured it was too risky and careless, even for them, at this stage of the game.

+++

You’re all called to dinner about an hour later, with Dave giving the first toast. Penelope, ever the saint, sits with Jack and Henry at the kids table behind you with her cup of spiked apple juice.

Aaron sits across from you, with the excuse of keeping an eye on Jack, and you’ve already engaged in one ridiculous game of footsie under the table.

“My friends, my family. Another year comes to a close and it only feels right to acknowledge how wonderful it is to have everyone back where they belong.” Dave looks at Emily, whose face warms, and Aaron, who offers a small smile. “Tonight, let us drink to our family, to forgiveness, and the year ahead.” He raises his glass. “Salut.”

“Hiding in Plain Sight” is one of my favorite tropes, and I engineered this dinner scene to capitalize on that as much as I could.

This scene originally wasn’t in here at all, but I felt that the fic was too short, so I played around with a couple of things before I added this one. I love that canon gives us so much to play with by way of big family dinners, and I was excited to embrace an opportunity to put my own spin on it.

There will be more of these in the future!

“Salut!” The rest of the table starts clinking glasses, and you smile widely at Aaron as the neck of his beer bottle taps against your champagne flute. He winks at you as you both drink.

It really is a family affair - everyone reaches over one another and shouts to pass dishes and refills nearby glasses without being asked. Spencer, beside you, surprises you by resting his head on your shoulder between dinner and dessert. You wrap an arm around him and kiss the top of his head, happy to accept his rare show of affection.

Emily stands, and you direct your attention to her as he makes another toast, talking about how much she loves all of you, how thankful she is to be home, and how she never once takes you for granted.

Spencer doesn’t move from under your arm, but Derek extends his arm over the back of Spencer’s chair, and his thumb brushes against the back of your arm. You smile at him over Spencer’s head.

I love a touchy-feely moment, you know?

When you look across the table at Aaron, he looks well and truly happy.

+++

A sleeping Jack slumps against your chest and over your shoulder as you say your goodbyes. Aaron has both his and his son’s sport coats over his arm and some leftovers balanced in his palm.

When kids absolutely crash on people they love, my heart melts. I just imagine a little wilted Jack completely draped over Reader - boneless and totally out cold. I almost added a scene of how he got there (he fell asleep on his dad on the couch, but dad had to help clean up because he’s Aaron, so Jack got shuffled over to Reader), but I couldn’t quite get the flow of the evening in all the right places, so it was cut.

Derek kisses your cheek and wishes you a Merry Christmas and sweet dreams. Penelope kisses Jack’s forehead and presses a palm to your shoulder. You’re covered in love and kisses and wrapped in hugs on your way out the door.

I call this The Greek Goodbye - but of course other cultures have this same phenomenon, where all the grown-ups put their coats and shoes on and still they stand around for thirty minutes saying goodbye and giving hugs and kisses and then everyone pours out on to the porch and they all stand around and talk some more and then someone finally gets in the car but they roll their window down etc. etc. etc. and suddenly its an hour and a half later and you haven’t actually left.

When you finally make it out onto the porch, Aaron’s hand hovers over your back as you step down the stairs to his SUV in the driveway. You, of course, drove separately, and will have to pour Jack into his carseat before you can go on your way.

You’re going to the same place, but the team doesn’t need to know that.

Jack barely stirs as you pull the seat belt around him. You pull the coats from Aaron’s arm and tuck them under his head, gingerly shutting the door after making sure he’s all propped up.

You turn toward Aaron, facing the house as you embrace. There are three heads looking at you (with about as much subtlety as a brick to the face) out the living room window. They think they’re slick, but they can’t see Aaron’s hand creep up the back of your shirt or his mouth as he whispers. “I’ll see you at home.”

I didn’t really realize how heavily this implied that they moved in together? What I tried to emphasize was the idea that home is wherever Aaron and Jack are, not necessarily the apartment itself.

The commentary that got excited about the fact that they’re moving in together did inspire me to get them to move in together, so then there’s that. Just another way yall inspire me and change this story around little by little with every installment :)

+++

Jack wakes you both early the next morning and you’re dragged by the hand into the living room while Aaron trails behind you both.

Little kids opening presents is truly a nightmare for any parent (or parent’s significant other) trying to get some of that good good before starting the day.

They were SOL this morning, but don’t worry - they get what they’re after eventually. They always do.

“Alright, Jack. What did you ask for?”

His lips press together, and he takes in the reasonable stack of presents under the tree. “I asked for a few things, but I wanted to ask for something else.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” You sit next to him, your legs folded under you, and put your arm around his waist while he loops his arms around your shoulders. Aaron’s taken up residence on the couch behind you, a trash bag in his hand.

So efficient.

Jack whispers into your ear, and his words bring a little smile to your face.

Nobody ask me what Jack actually asked for verbatim, because I have no idea. It was probably like “I want us all to be a family” or “i want you to live with us all the time” or something like that, but that’s only fast and loose with the idea of it.

I let the implications do all the talking, here.

“I think that’s something you need to ask your dad for, bud.”

His brow wrinkles. You nod encouragingly, turning him around and sending him to a very confused Aaron. Jack climbs up on the couch, and Aaron’s arms automatically wrap around him as he leans into his father’s side. He whispers, presumably, the same thing he said to you, judging from the little smile that pulls at the corner of Aaron’s mouth.

“Yeah, Jack. I think I can make that happen. Let’s talk about it some more tomorrow, yeah?”

Jack grins and jumps back down to you, looking over at his dad. “Can I open presents, now?”

Aaron nods, giving Jack permission to immediately tear into the bigger boxes under the tree. You rise and cross back to Aaron. He offers you his arm as you sit and you loop yours through his, holding onto the sleeve of his shirt - long-sleeved, on account of the weather.

Another Hallmark moment. This pose is always so cinematic to me, with one partner leaning on the other, arms looped, holding hands or holding onto the base partner’s clothes. Ugh. So cute.

I sit like this with my mom all the time, so it’s kind of the default posture when I write two people who love each other sitting close together.

“Did Jack tell you what else he wanted?”

Aaron tips his head to your shoulder, pressing a kiss to it before resting his temple against you. That’s enough of an answer for you. More cheating by not answering the question, Tali!! Nice!! Your cheek presses into his hair and you watch Jack unearth LEGO sets and a new bike helmet from his dad, and a new soccer ball with a practice net from you. He gets a couple more LEGO sets and a Wii game from his Aunt Jess.

He’s thrilled with his haul, and he forces you both down to the floor to open your presents.

From Jack, you get a framed photo. Jess took it while Aaron was in Pakistan and it’s one of your favorites. You’re both curled up in his bed wearing pajamas, reading a book together. His head rests under your chin, his arm around your waist as he falls asleep against you.

“Auntie Jess said you’d like that one and I picked the frame all by myself.”

You smile up at him, opening your arms. He tucks into you and informs you it’s Dad’s turn.

With your help, he put together a little scrapbook that covered the five months Aaron was away, as well as fun little photos of the two of them over the years. Aaron’s visibly affected, his right hand resting lightly over his mouth as he flips through the pages.

The fact that we never actually got to see the home-life aftermath of Pakistan deSTROYED ME. So, I fixed it.

His eyes are a little shiny when he looks at you first, then Jack. “Thanks, bud. I love it.”

Jack smiles widely at him. “Look in the back!”

In the back, indeed, is a new tie - royal blue, with tiny paisley detailing in white. You’re sure he has another one just like it in red, but narrow variety is the spice of life, right?

I got my dad ties for Christmas and his birthday for like...10 years straight. It’s wild that he pretended to like every single one. That’s love.

Aaron opens his arms, and Jack scrambles off your lap and into his. They sit together for a minute, and you take the time to consolidate the rest of the presents. Four remain - two for you and two for Aaron.

Jack shoves one of your gifts from Aaron at you, and you grin as you take it in your hands. It’s a little heavy, but fits neatly in your hands. You open it, and laugh out loud at what you find.

A new ankle holster...you’re kidding.

Shoutout to Kira for this gift idea!! @good-heavens-chris-evans

“Aaron, thank you!”

He huffs a laugh. “It’ll fit your Baretta - I know your old one was a little loose since you changed over from the Glock.”

You nod. “Very thoughtful. I love it.”

At Aaron’s prompting, Jack passes you the second box. This one is small, oblong, and thin. You carefully tear the paper, and find a smooth wooden box, beautiful on its own, inside. Squinting skeptically at Aaron, you open the lid. Its contents take your breath. A simple, stunning bracelet with little green stones twinkles at you, nestled in wrapping paper inside the box.

The bracelet was a total fluke idea, and I just ran with it. I’m now ridiculously attached to it and it will become some kind of symbolic device as we move forward, I think.

“I found it at a market in Pakistan - it’s from Turkey, originally, and thought you’d like it,” I’m Greek, so it hurt me a lil to make the bracelet from Turkey. However, thousands of years of tense relations don’t undermine the quality of Turkish silver - that shit is unmatched. I’ll never own any myself, but I can admire it from afar. he says. He reaches for the box and you hand it over, stunned into silence. Taking your wrist in his hand, he puts it on for you. The early-morning light through the window and the string lights from the tree reflect off of it. A little smile plays at his mouth. “To my knowledge, it’s handmade.”

You take a shaky breath, still looking at it. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

He ducks his head, almost shy, and you transfer your attention to his presents to save him the scrutiny. Jack, still the designated distributor, pulls the larger of Aaron’s presents toward him. It’s a decent-sized box, and Aaron leaves it on the floor to unwrap, neatly folding the paper as he goes.

It’s a new go bag, with about a million pockets, wheels on one side, and kevlar lining. It won’t ever tear or break or otherwise fail him. You found it after seeing the state of his bag upon his return from Pakistan - the poor thing was basically in shreds, and he’d been making do with a backpack and a dumb little duffle ever since.

I spare a thought for Aaron’s go bag every time I watch It Takes a Village because my God does that thing see some use.

So, just like the rest of it, I’ve fixed that, too.

The second of the two gifts is much smaller, and almost embarrassingly sentimental. He opens it, slipping the ribbons off and neatly tearing at the tape lines.

You see his sharp inhale before you hear it. He pats Jack’s shoulder, and the boy returns to your lap. His hands trace over the cover, opening it and reading the notes inside. The first, in blue pen, is his own handwriting.

Miss Haley Brooks,

Happy 25th Birthday, my darling. I figured it was high time you had a copy of my favorite novel. A selfish gift, sure, but at least I mailed it on time this year.

Love you. Miss you. A. Hotch, 1995

In the original, these are all written in different fonts! Aaron’s was Architect’s Daughter, Haley’s was Dancing Script, and Reader’s wasn’t any different from the body text.

Then, below it, in an elegant black scrawl:

Happy Birthday, Newbie!

Hotch told me you were looking for new reading material for the plane, so I figured I’d give you both a book and a key to Hotch’s good side, all in one.

Enjoy 25! I sure did.

Good luck! Haley, 2007

Finally, a new note, dated December 25th, 2011.

Aaron -

Thought it was time for this to come home. Merry Christmas.

I love you.

It’s the paperback copy of Catch-22 he gave Haley for her 25th birthday, when he was working for the US Attorney’s office in Washington D.C. and she was still in her Master’s program. You’d kept it all these years, simultaneously unable to part with it and waiting for the right opportunity to return it to Aaron.

I think Catch-22 is such an Aaron book. It’s nothing I can really eloquently articulate, but the energy is very much Hotch to a T for me.

This gift was EJ’s idea!! Thanks EJ!! @forgottenword

It was an ancient copy, and you suspected Aaron owned it long before he passed it on to Haley.

Aaron’s still quiet. Jack’s still tucked into your lap.

“I didn’t know she gave it to you. I asked, and she told me she’d given it to a friend. Never thought to ask who.” His voice is quiet, almost reverent. He looks up at you, and you can definitely see the mist in his eyes now. “Thank you for this.” The book rises in his hand and he waves it a little before dropping it back in his lap.

I also wanted to establish a little of Haley and Reader’s friendship here, however short-lived. I wanted the grief when we lost her to extend past Aaron and into their little family unit. I wanted to give Aaron someone who would understand the dynamics of Haley’s loss in a different way.

You run your hands through Jack’s hair, your bracelet catching the light.

+++

The rest of Christmas is fairly uneventful - you and Aaron handle breakfast with Jack, and Jessica stops by in the afternoon. You stop back at your house to make a couple of phone calls after dinner - touching base with the people you love where you can.

When you return to the Hotchner apartment later that evening, Jack is already in bed.

Aaron greets you with a kiss at the door and you spend a moment in his arms, your fingers resting lightly on his shoulders. The silence is peaceful, easy.

He presses a series of kisses up your cheek and over your temple. You laugh, tucking into him to avoid the onslaught.

Leaning back, you meet his eyes. “Good day?”

“Good day.” He smiles at you - one of those close-mouthed, squinty-eyed ones you love. “Ready for bed?”

This was one of those little moments for me. You know when people who love each other sometimes use really good, simple words to convey really big things? Yeah. That.

There’s something on his mind, and you’re sure he’ll tell you once you get settled. You nod, letting him take you by the hand to the back bedroom.

He shuts the door behind you and backs you into it, caging you in with his body. You kiss him, sucking lightly on his lower lip. His hands are everywhere, removing your clothes with a soft kind of reverence.

There’s a sweetness when you fall into bed together, taking notes from the snow-laden night outside. It seems to be holding its breath - hushed and muted under a quiet sky.

+++

He tosses you a pair of your pajama pants from the top drawer of his dresser after you shower and clean up (whether you re-dirtied yourselves in the shower is beside the point), and you settle into your learned rhythm. He gets into his pajamas while you brush your teeth, and then you switch. You inevitably land back in bed before he does, waiting for him as usual.

More establishing the normalcy of their relationship!!! This was a super important addition to me - also added much later. It used to end at the section right before this, but I really wanted to show the way they operate together when nobody’s watching them and they’re safe at home.

When he’s done in the bathroom, he throws himself on the bed beside you with a heavy sigh.

“I can hear you thinking, Hotchner.” You roll toward him, tucking the covers up around your shoulders.

He turns his head to look at you, lacing his fingers behind his head. There’s more going on behind his eyes than you originally thought, and you’d be nervous if you didn’t know better. “Did Jack tell you what else he wanted today?”

You nod, waiting on him.

“What do you think?”

Scooting over, you curl up against him with your head on his chest. Even though he’s on top of the covers, he drops his arms, wrapping them around you. “I think he’s got the right idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

He rolls over, and his lips are on yours before you can blink. With a surprised little noise, you smile against him and wind your fingers into his hair. It stays fairly slow, but that doesn’t stop the heat curling through your chest and belly.

Haven’t you had enough?

Never. Never. Never.

You can’t help but enjoy him. He’s good at just about everything. “Aaron,” you whisper. Immediately, he pulls back, watching you with a knit brow. “What time is it?”

With a little laugh, he turns around to look at his bedside clock. “Just after one. Why?”

“Do you think we can remember the date?”

After I figured out they started dating on the 26th, I had to figure out how to fill the time between the evening of the 25th and the 26th. Initially, I was going to let them have this conversation over breakfast, but I also know these two never shut up when they’re in bed together, so it seemed as good a time as any.

Also, I added some implied good-good grown-up time to fill the space between like...10pm and midnight. Sue me.

You can tell he’s not exactly following, but he’s willing to hang in and figure it out. “December 26th? Yeah. Why?”

It’s ridiculous, but you feel suddenly shy. “I just think it’s an alright anniversary date, don’t you?”

Realization dawns on his face, and he attacks your lips again, unable to keep the smile out of his kisses. You laugh, throwing the covers off and climbing over him. You don’t really have an agenda, but the lack of contact after your romp was driving you nuts. He looks up at you, taking your face in his hands. “You wanna do this?”

You nod. “Yeah. I do.”

“And you’re in it for the long haul with us, right?” You can see the nerves pulling at his brows, the latent insecurity creeping into his face. “Me and Jack?”

Say it with me, kids! Aaron is insecure about being an older, single dad and Reader must always reassure him at this point in their story. There’s more to come on that front, too.

Soothing it as best you can, you reply. “Yeah. I’m in if you are, Aaron. For real. For you and Jack.”

He takes a huge breath. With a start, you realize he’s not really able to speak. His lips press into a thin line, and for the third time that day, tears threaten at the corners of his eyes.

Nothing shocks Aaron more than the idea that someone wants him, loves him, and wants to stay with him. Haley like...fucked him up. He’s also got some of that insecurity and doubt built into his character, so I like to thing even with Haley he didn’t feel good enough, or deserving. The way the divorce went down probably left him feeling like he was right all along.

You drop down, laying yourself flush against him. “I love you, you big idiot.”

Your ridiculous comment has the intended effect - he laughs a little. It’s watery, but he wraps his arms around you again and kisses the top of your head. “I love you so much.”

“I’m so sorry it took me this long to make up my damn mind.”

He shakes his head. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you did.”

“I mean,” you continue, “I already kind of had my mind made up, but I was really scared it would become real real.” You tip your head up, propping your hands under your chin. “I forgive you for everything. I do. That’s really all I needed to figure out.”

It’s also important to me to establish the way they fight and forgive each other - the push and pull of it. There’s a lot of that in life, and I wanted to demonstrate that as much as I could.

One of the things I wanted to emphasize by keeping them in this kind of liminal state for a couple of months was the importance of trust. Reader didn’t completely trust Hotch when he got back from Pakistan, and that thought alone was super unnerving. So even the concept of a lack of trust deepened the problem itself, if that makes sense. (It’s one of those “if you have to ask” moments - like the very premise of the problem is actually the thing you have a problem with.)

I have no idea if I’m making any sense at all lmao.

He hauls you both up, and you find yourself straddling his lap with his hands laced together at your lower back. “Thank you.”

You frame his face with your hands, your fingers tracing over his cheekbones. Corrupting the silence of the moment seems wrong, and you’re afraid you’ll say something stupid if you open your mouth again.

He leans forward, and you catch him, pressing your forehead against his. There are two words floating through his head, but they’re too much, too soon, too big. So, he settles for three. “I love you.”

We picked up on what those two words were, right? It’s a big question, and it’ll happen eventually, but I wanted to lay the groundwork for how early on Hotch knew that he was done. It’s one of those Jim and Pam “I bought [the engagement ring] a week after we started dating.”

He just knows. And that’s super cool. He won’t actually do it for another two years, but its super cool.

+++

This scene was also a last minute addition because even with dinner, it still felt too short.

The next afternoon, you pack up the car with Jack’s other present he gets to open with the family, as well as your present for Henry and another for Penelope.

It’s tradition that you all draw names out of a hat for each other - there are far too many of you to get gifts for each other willy-nilly, so Aaron put a system in place after Penelope suggested it. That way, everyone gets one gift, and the kids get presents from all the grown ups.

The kids are delighted, and the adults aren’t completely broke by the end of it.

This is how we do Christmas presents in my family! There are so many cousins that we have to draw names or otherwise it gets ridiculous and people get offended lmao.

Stepping back into Dave’s house for the second time in as many days, you were immediately bombarded by Henry, itching to get his hands on your present.

“Alright, kiddo, you’ve got one here from me and one here from your Uncle Hotch, okay?”

He nods, taking both unwieldy boxes into his arms. On little legs, he trots over and places them under the tree. Aaron takes Jack’s and Penelope’s presents out of your hands and you snag Jack’s sleeve as he passes you, crouching beside him.

“Remember what we talked about, right? We don’t want Henry to feel left out okay, so as far as he’s concerned, this is the first and only present you got from me this year, right?”

He nods, grinning.

“Good boy.” You pat his shoulder, and he presses a lighting-quick kiss to your cheek before jetting off to the living room.

It’s always fun to watch Jack and Henry open presents. They’re thrilled, and more than once Jack runs up to you to show off whatever he’s got.

You’re on the arm of the couch beside Aaron, with Penelope on the floor at your feet and Derek in the chair next to you. Eventually, it’s time for the grown-ups to open their presents.

Derek goes first, with a present from Spencer. Inside the beautifully-wrapped box (you suspect JJ’s handiwork) is a new pair of headphones.

Penelope opens your present - a new feather-topped pen and a whimsical mug from a case in San Francisco a few months ago, as well as a new security key for her numerous external hard-drives.

Emily gets a gorgeous maroon scarf from Penelope and gifts a new pistol grip and toolbox to Will, while JJ receives a bottle of her favorite expensive wine and a new set of frames for the photos on her desk from Aaron.

JJ gets Aaron a new coffee maker for the apartment - he’s thrilled - and Spencer opens his first-edition copy of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy from Dave with much fanfare.

You open your box from Derek, and it’s a new set of fleece pajamas and a blanket for the plane. He leans into you, and you kiss the top of his head by way of thanks.

Figuring out what to get everyone was a NIGHTMARE, but I am proud to say I did it all on my own!!!

The afternoon is full of leftovers and laughter. After much begging, the kids wiggle another Christmas movie out of their parents, and you settle in for the duration.

Aaron covers you in a blanket as the sun sets, and you take the opportunity to gather Derek closer to you for the excuse to lean into Aaron. Under the blanket, you take his hand. His fingers pass back and forth over your knuckles.

If anyone asks, your distraction is the result of the snow falling outside.

+++

“No way!” Jack launches himself out of his chair and throws himself into his dad’s arms. “Really?”

“Really.” Aaron finds himself laughing as he looks over at you. “Is it okay if we all spend a little more time together, the three of us?”

Jack whips his head around to look at you, and you move into the chair he previously occupied, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay having me around with your dad, bud?”

A grin breaks out across his face. “Yeah! It’s just what I asked for!”

Aaron does a great job re-emphasizing the importance of keeping this just special for the three of you. Jack is completely on board - he completely understands that all the grown-ups are in each other’s business all the time, and sometimes it's nice to keep things to yourself for a little bit of peace.

Discretion is no new concept to the Hotchner household, and for that, you’re grateful.

That concludes our director’s commentary! Up next, I have a request to do some commentary on Metanoia, so that one will be up sometime this weekend.

#anon reply #tali answers stuff #a joyful future #tali provides commentary #that'll be the tag for this stuff i think #since we're chillin in the third person #may as well go full-tilt u know

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unfortunate-stranger-losers · 5 years ago

Photo

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Thirty - Violet does some Very Fast Math

Violet and Klaus hid behind cupboards and swinging doors, waiting as Jerome led the Quagmires down the Penthouse, trying to find them a decent bedroom. When he finally did, the Baudelaires ducked into a bathroom nearby to hide while he made sure everything was alright, stuck part of a rope around the knob so they all could remember which room was theirs, and wished the children goodnight, telling them that he’d come get them in the morning. As soon as his footsteps faded, Violet and Klaus walked into the Quagmires’ room, looking around in amazement.

The penthouse had certainly startled them upon first viewing, what with how grand and clean it was, yet with very little items scattered around. And yet seeing the bedroom just made it all sink in. There were two beds, but enough space to put three more inbetween them, a wardrobe that looked big enough to live him, and more floor space than most of the houses they’d snuck into. Isadora was bouncing on a bed, which looked like it weighed about nothing and had sheets probably more expensive than anything the Baudelaires had ever owned.

“We were thinking we could take one bed, and you guys could take the other. It’s big enough for all of us.” Duncan said, before bouncing on the bed beside his sister. “We can lock the door, too, so we won’t be surprised by one of the Squalors before we’re ready.”

Violet carefully dropped her bag at the edge of the other bed, while Klaus let Sunny down and slung his bag beside hers. Sunny crawled around, looking wonderingly at everything. “Eguh,” she said, meaning, “This room sure is big.”

“Yeah.” Violet nodded. “It’s… weird. But… yes, good idea, Duncan.”

“We could split boys and girls?” Klaus suggested. “I know sometimes siblings don’t like sharing a bed, so if you guys-”

“Oh, we used to do it all the time during thunderstorms.” Isadora waved her hand. “We’ll be alright.”

“We could always sleep in the wardrobe if you-” Violet began.

“It’s fine.”

Hesitantly, Violet put a hand on the bedsheet, watching as it sunk down into the fabric. Then, carefully, she hoisted herself up, jumping as the mattress bounced underneath her. “This is… way too soft.”

“Let us try!” Klaus said. He picked up Sunny and ran, making a leap so that he landed on the bed with Sunny held up above his head. He did indeed bounce quite a bit, and Sunny laughed, throwing up her arms.

“Alright, babies,” Violet giggled, as the mattress settled, “Settle down. We need to figure out a plan. We may not be able to stay here forever, depending on how long this ‘school break’ ruse will hold.”

“Listen, we can stay forever.” Duncan shrugged. “There’s enough rooms in this fucking penthouse that if we ran away in it, nobody would notice we were living here for years.”

“Including our parents.” Klaus said. “We’ll have to figure out how to signal to them, so if they get here, they know where we are.”

“Fosco,” Sunny said, meaning, “But we need something subtle that they will notice but Olaf will not.”

“That’s gonna be tricky.” Isadora said, thinking. “Usually I’d slip hints into poems, but at this height, where would he hang the paper?”

“Maybe we could put them in a newspaper.” Duncan said. “Slip them in for your parents to read.”

“This city’s paper is The Daily Punctilio, which our parents refuse to read.” Klaus shook his head.

Violet pulled out her ribbon, about to tie back her hair, and then she stopped and smiled. “I’ve got it.” she said. She jumped off the bed and raced to the nearest window. She opened it and then tied her ribbon to the outside handle, watching it blow a bit in the breeze.

“Olaf doesn’t know about my ribbon,” she said, “But our parents do.”

“What about your hair?” Isadora asked.

“I have extra ribbons.” Violet shrugged. She smirked at Klaus, then, and added, “And one of them has a cool-ass bloodstain on it.”

“Awesome.” Duncan said.

Klaus let out a nervous smile, as Sunny giggled and bounced some more on the bed.

“Now, we’ve got some time,” Violet said, before stretching a little. “What’d’ya say we take advantage of these pillows being too soft for their own damn good and practice throwing people over your shoulder?”

“Hell yes!”

They did wander around the penthouse a little, but didn’t move far from the bedroom, not wanting to get lost. They found a room filled with books, but only about current trends, a room of pinstripe suits hung up, a craft room, a room full of colorful scarves, at least two dining rooms, and one room that held nothing but a large ball of yarn, which Sunny tried to unwind for about five minutes before they caught her. They returned to the bedroom and went over some more self-defense, before Duncan sat down a moment and promptly passed out on the bed, so they called it a night. Isadora locked the door, and Violet, Klaus and Sunny tried to make themselves comfortable on the much-too-light bedspread, with one of the older children switching out for watch at the window.

When the sun arose, the Baudelaires all awoke around roughly the same time, and silently sat together beside the window, staring down. They were very high up, which was making them a little nervous, but what was more frightening was they recognized not a single person going down the street. Klaus and Sunny had been hoping beyond hope that soon their parents would pass by, and see the ribbon, and run up for their children, explaining that they’d killed Olaf and his troupe and now they were never going to be in trouble ever again. Violet, meanwhile, had that slight hope, but it was dimming by the second, even as the sun grew brighter.

Isadora and Duncan awoke soon after, and after everyone took turns freshening up in the closest bathroom, Violet sat them all in a circle on the floor.

“It’s really nice not being in that fucking school uniform.” Isadora mentioned, pulling down her sweater sleeves.

“We’re free!” Duncan said.

“We have shed our skin of chains,” Isadora said, rocking slightly, “And now at last we can use our brains.”

They giggled slightly, and the Baudelaires exchanged a quick look.

“So,” Violet said, “I have a quick question I forgot to ask yesterday.”

“Alright.” Isadora said. “What?”

Violet hesitated, and then said, “Are the Squalors VFD-affiliated? Do you have any idea?”

Isadorar and Duncan shrugged. “You were our first informants of this ‘VFD’ bullshit.” Duncan said. “And I… cannot see them using Jerome Squalor as a secret agent.”

“Maybe his wife. She’s a bit…” Isadora struggled to find the words. “Eccentric.”

“Why? Did you see something?”

“We just have some suspicions.” Violet said, waving her hand. “It’s not a huge deal, considering Ms Squalor clearly doesn’t give a shit about you, so she probably won’t try to recruit you herself, but we’d like to be aware.”

“Like, for example,” Klaus shrugged, “Your VFD parents put this bitch in charge of your affairs.”

“And she sent you to a VFD recruitment ground.” Violet said. “And-”

“Well,” Isadora considered, “You’d think she’d make sure we got inducted, though.”

“Maybe she just doesn’t give a shit.” Duncan shrugged.

“Or maybe our parents didn’t want us involved and she’s respecting that.” Isadora said hopefully.

“Eff,” Sunny said, meaning something like, “Have you ever seen her do anything suspicious?”

“We were only here for like, twelve hours before we got shipped off to Prufrock.” Duncan shrugged.

“We know she’s super into fashion and trends,” Isadora said, counting acts on her fingers and staring up at the ceiling, “She is a fuckin bitch… what else?”

“Uh, I think Esmé said something about going to school with Mother.” Duncan shrugged. “And when we asked for details she told us to shut up and opened a bottle of champagne.”

Isadora laughed. “Fuck, I forgot about that. Bitch. She- are you guys okay?”

The Quagmires turned, to see that the Baudelaires had turned white as a ghost. Violet’s eyes were wide, and she gripped tight onto her knees, squeezing hard enough to hurt herself. Klaus had completely frozen over, his breath coming in short gasps, and he’d scooted back at least a foot. Sunny had started shaking and hugging herself, tears springing to her eyes.

“What happened? Is something wrong?” Duncan asked.

Violet took a shaky breath, and then said, “What did you say her name was?”

“Esmé Squalor.” Isadora rolled her eyes. “She told us to call her Ms Squalor to be polite, but, like, fuck that. What’s going on?”

Violet and Klaus shared an absolutely terrified look, before Violet reached over, picking up the crying Sunny and holding her close.

“Is she tall, with blonde hair?” Klaus asked.

“Does she have a faint accent?” Violet added.

“Uh, yeah.” Duncan said. “Oh, shit, do you know her?”

“Fuck.” Klaus shut his eyes, hugging himself tight and starting to rock. “Fuck, fuck- Violet-”

Violet couldn’t breathe a moment, just clutching Sunny. She had her eyes shut tight, as if, when she opened them, she would once again see that horrible woman, ripping at her mother’s hair, kicking her in the stomach, gleefully talking about how much pain she was going to give to them all…

“We have to get out of here.” Violet finally said. “Now.”

“What?” Isadora said. “Wh-”

There was a sharp knock at the door. Terrified, Violet clung to Sunny and immediately dove them under the bed. Klaus grabbed both their bags, sliding under the other one. Within a few seconds, they were gone.

Isadora shook while getting to her feet, sending a terrified look to Duncan. Then she carefully opened the door, forcing a smile. “Hello, Mr Squalor.”

Jerome smiled down at her. “Oh, Isadora, we’ve been over this, you can call me Jerome. ‘Mr Squalor’ sounds so formal.”

“I guess.” She carefully swung the door open some more, and Duncan stood beside her, carefully putting a hand on her back to let her know he was there.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Very well, thank you.” Duncan said. “Did you need anything?”

“Oh, yes. My wife just called me from the lobby, she’s heading up. She already knew you were here, said something about expecting you back from school, isn’t that nice?”

Isadora took a sharp breath and tried not to look behind them. “So cool.” Duncan managed.

“She’s going to take you out for pinstripe suits later today, they’re the new fashion.” Jerome said. “But she says she wants you to stay up here. She’s got a surprise for you! She just said to make sure you stay in the penthouse until she arrives, so you stay in your room until I come get you, and then we’ll see what she has planned!”

Duncan and Isadora, though they didn’t entirely know why, felt like they were falling.

“That sounds great.” Duncan finally said. “We’ll remain right here.”

Jerome nodded, smiling and then jumped when both Quagmires, almost instinctively, ran forwards and hugged him tight.

“Thank you so much, Jerome.” Isadora said.

“For taking care of us.” Duncan said.

Jerome softened, hugging them back. “Oh, children, no need to thank me. We’re in charge of you, it’s our job.”

As they pulled away, he caught a glimpse of the window over their shoulders, and he hesitated. “Is that ribbon yours?”

Isadora jumped. “Y-yeah. I, uh-”

“It’s quite nice,” Jerome said hesitantly, “But… well, you might want to remove it. Ribbons aren’t ‘in’, apparently, and Esmé won’t like that.”

They nodded and smiled and thanked him, and then closed the door.

Violet almost launched herself out from under the bed, tossing Sunny onto the pillows. She ran to the window, throwing it open and reaching out for her ribbon, terror coursing through her. Klaus shakily raced out and jumped beside his little sister, picking her up and cradling her as close as he could.

“What’s wrong with Esmé?” Duncan asked.

“She- she works with-” Klaus shut his eyes, shaking.

“Olaf!” Sunny finished for him.

Isadora and Duncan completely froze over, and then Duncan started to cry, backing up and throwing a hand over his face. Isadora shook her head, and then fell to the ground, curling up. “No, no, no…”

“She hurt our Mom.” Klaus muttered, clutching Sunny tighter and bawling. “She hurt our Mom!”

“We need to get out of here.” Violet said, using the ribbon to tie back her hair.

“She’s already coming up the stairs!” Duncan said, shaking and leaning against the door, looking like he was about to vomit. “If we try to go down, she’ll catch us!”

“No, no, no…” Isadora hugged her knees, shutting her eyes. “We can’t let her- she’ll- he’ll- I’m sorry!”

“It’s- it’s not your fault.” Violet said quickly. “It’s-” she shut her eyes. “We can’t climb down the penthouse. There’s too many floors, too much wind resistance- we’ll likely fall.” She shut her eyes. “We need to get down…”

Duncan leaned over, hugging Isadora tight, as Klaus looked over at Violet. Her hair tied back, her eyes shut, she was clearly thinking hard and fast. She bounced her leg and flapped her hands, trying not to shake.

Then her eyes flew open.

“The scarf room.” she said. “We need to get in there. Hurry, we don’t know how long it’ll take before she gets here.”

Klaus nodded, shakily stumbling to his feet and clinging to Sunny while Violet grabbed their bags. The Quagmires quickly grabbed theirs and Isadora struggled at the lock, still feeling panic overwhelming her.

They raced between the nearby rooms until they reached the one they’d seen yesterday, full of different scarves of varying colors, materials and lengths.

Violet tied her ribbon tighter, trying to slow her breathing. “Who knows the Devil’s Tongue Knot?”

Isadora raised her trembling hand, while the boys shook their heads, and Sunny obviously muttered a “Ni?”

“I…” Isadora took a shaky breath. “I-”

Violet ran over, putting her hands on her shoulders. “Listen, we need to move fast, but know that this is in no way your fault. You had no idea this would happen. What we have to do now is get out before anything can happen. Okay?”

Isadora met her eyes. “But- we’re all in danger, I… I put you guys, I put Duncan-”

“You didn’t know. And now we have to go. So tell me, can you do the Devil’s Tongue knot?”

Isadora bit her lip, and then smiled. “Aye-aye. It was the sort of thing that would impress-”

“Female Finnish Pirates.” Violet smiled. “Hell yeah.”

“I still don’t get that.” Duncan said.

“It’s a sapphic thing.” Violet waved a hand at him. “Isa, I need you to show the boys how to do it- and Sunny, if she can get her hands around. We need to tie as many scarves together as we can manage. Klaus?”

Klaus looked up as Violet turned to him. “Yeah?”

“How deep do you think that ersatz shaft was?”

Klaus’s eyes widened as he realized her plan, and then he smiled. “Well, we either climbed forty-eight or eighty-four floors, I can’t remember. So that’d be either nine-hundred and ten feet, or five-hundred and nineteen.”

“Erica?” Sunny asked. “Is that math right?”

“We don’t have time to check.” Violet said.

“What ersatz shaft?” Duncan asked.

“You’ve got a fake elevator. Explain later.” Violet said. “Now, I don’t wanna drop four-hundred and nine feet, so to be safe we’ll tie about… how long is the average scarf?”

“Five feet.” Duncan said. “I did a report on fashion accessories about two years ago- and, also, Quigley liked to knit.”

“Then we need to tie about a hundred and eighty-two scarves together.” Violet said. “To be safe, we’ll up that to one hundred and eighty-five. How many scarves are on each shelf?”

“Viginti!” Sunny said, pointing to a sign at the edge of the wall, labelling that each shelf could hold twenty scarves.

“Nine and a quarter.” Violet said. “We need to use up nine and a quarter shelves.”

“We could make it ten to be extra safe.” Duncan said.

“That all depends,” Violet said, grabbing two scarves, “On how fast we tie. Isadora, show them how it’s done, and get the fuck to work. We have one-hundred and eighty-five scarves to get together, and we need to do it fast. So let’s go.”

She grabbed two scarves off a rack and quickly started tying. Isadora quickly led the others to another and knocked the scarves all to the ground. She knelt down, showing them exactly how to tie the strong knot, letting them practice a little as she demonstrated with the scarves she was tying. It took quite a few minutes, but once Violet finished her shelf and the others finished theirs, Violet tied them together.

“Forty.” she said. “One-hundred forty-five more to go. Boys, Sunny, how do you feel about the knots?”

“Pretty good, actually.” Duncan said.

“You know I suck at motor skills, but I think I got it.” Klaus said.

“Stimmy!” Sunny cheered. “It’s so much fun!”

“Well, then, you each take a shelf.” Violet said. “And throw your twenty scarves at me when you’re done. That’ll get seven of our nine-and-a-quarter out of the way. When you’re done, either come help me or find one of the last two or three shelves and start tying. We don’t have much time, so no talking unless it’s an emergency.”

They nodded and raced off. Violet and Isadora, of course, finished their next ropes first, tying it to their main one, but Duncan also finished quite quickly, and once they had their scarves all tied together, they got started on the last three shelves. Klaus and Sunny finished and Klaus managed to tie their ropes to the main one while the others worked. With Klaus and Sunny’s help, they managed to finish the last three shelves completely, and Violet got their entire rope together.

“Klaus, we’re going to have to hope your math worked out.” Violet said. “Help me wrap this around my shoulder, and we need to book it to the elevator. Esmé could be nearing the penthouse.”

While the Quagmires helped Violet, Klaus made sure their bags were secure. Sunny insisted she could be carried and didn’t need to be in a bag, so Klaus picked her up while Isadora did Violet a favor and took her bag for a moment while Violet carried about nine-hundred feet of scarf material.

They took off running, with Duncan and Isadora leading the way, clinging to each other’s hands as they navigated the difficult halls, trying to find the exit. Klaus used his free hand to grab some dangling rope from Violet, who was trying not to trip over the giant bundle wrapped around her.

Unfortunately, just as Isadora said, “We’re about to reach the lobby!” and the children felt relief course through them, they threw open the door, raced out, and then skidded to a panicked halt.

Jerome looked over, as Esmé Squalor smiled from the doorway. Her eyes were dark but shining in an eerily familiar way, and Violet, Klaus and Sunny instantly felt incredibly cold.

“Children! Ah, Esmé was just-” Jerome faltered, his eyes scanning the children. “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t realize you had company over?”

“I…” Isadora began.

Before any of them could do anything else, Sunny kicked on Klaus’s stomach and propelled herself out of his arms. She flew through the air and hit Esmé’s chest, grabbing her pinstripe suit with her tiny fists. And as Esmé reeled back, Sunny hoisted herself to the left, grabbed Esmé’s arm, and bit it down hard.

“Sunny!” Violet and Klaus shouted, terrified.

Esmé let out an unholy screech, and now Sunny was attached to her arm, grabbing it with two hands and ripping off fabric with her teeth so she could bite into flesh. Jerome leapt back, startled, as Duncan and Isadora immediately whipped around to Violet and Klaus to see what they were supposed to do.

Violet’s eyes were locked on Sunny, not just terror holding her in place but indecision and confusion- what was she supposed to do? Sunny was biting into Esmé Squalor and-

Klaus managed to recover first. He turned her around to face him, and then said quickly, “E flat, G minor, A flat.”

Violet paused a moment, and then hastily nodded.

“What the fuck does that-” Isadora began.

Sunny let out a scream, then, drawing their attention. Esmé had finally tossed her off, and Sunny landed on a chair, screeching and reeling from the impact. Klaus took off, running behind Violet so Esmé did not immediately notice, rushing to grab his infant sister.

“Holy fuck,” Esmé spat, looking down at her arm. Violet, too, widened her eyes to see that Sunny had drawn blood- quite a bit, too, staining Esmé’s sleeve. “What kind of a-”

“Mama!” Sunny screeched, even as Klaus grabbed her and forcibly strapped her into the bag. “For Mama! You hurt Mama!”

Violet pulled Duncan aside, whispered, “Trip her,” and then ran at Esmé. As she expected, the woman recovered quickly and grabbed Violet’s shirt collar, yanking her closer.

She looked down at the scarves, and hissed, “Trying to escape out the window, were we? Trying to run away? Like you always do.”

“‘Trying’ is a bit unfair.” Violet smiled. “We’re not done.”

At that, Duncan slid on the floor, grabbed the end of the scarves, and yanked it hard against Esmé’s legs. She released her grip on Violet, who jumped back just as Esmé fell, and Isadora gathered up the scarves. Klaus raced by, with Sunny finally strapped to his bag, though she still kicked and screamed, droplets of blood across her face. He lifted Duncan to his feet and ran him to the door, which Isadora was throwing open.

“What-?” Jerome started, as Esmé screeched again.

“Sorry, Jerome!” Isadora said, as she slammed the door shut.

As soon as it was closed, Klaus reached into his bag, pulling out a thick book. “Finished this anyway.” he muttered, as he shoved it against the edge of the door. “This’ll block their exit for a few minutes.”

“Long enough.” Violet said. She ran to the false elevator and hit the up button, watching the doors slide open. “Klaus, you should still have a bouncy ball we gave to Sunny a few weeks before this shit went down, right? I need it. I’m going to aim and have it hit the elevator to close the button once we’re down, so that Esmé doesn’t know where we went.”

She leaned over, finding a loose crevice in the elevator wall, and she started tying the rope to it. Once she had it as tight as she could, she and Duncan kicked the scarves down, watching them descend into darkness.

“We’re going to climb down that way?” Isadora asked nervously.

“If Esmé’s here,” Violet said, as they started to hear pounding on the door, “We have to assume there are more. They’ll be waiting at the exit for us. If they know about this secret passage, likely they’ll assume we don’t and thus won’t be guarding it. There’ll be an exit at the bottom, otherwise why would it be here?”

“And if there isn’t an exit,” Klaus said, making sure the screeching toddler was secured on his chest, “Then we climb up again and hide in the penthouse until the bitch leaves.”

Duncan looked down. “That’s… very dark.”

“Do you want to go back in there?” Klaus asked, gesturing to the door which was still being pounded on. Esmé was screeching behind it, words that they wouldn’t dare repeat.

Isadora took a deep breath. “I-I’m not sure we’re ready to-”

“If we wait until we’re ready,” Violet said, “We’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives.”

Klaus grabbed the rope first. He tested it a second, yanking to make sure it held, and then he leapt into the elevator shaft, scurrying down as fast as he could. He stopped after a few feet, though, waiting.

Duncan and Isadora looked to the rope, and then to each other, and then to Violet.

Violet smiled at them, took one of each of their hands, and said, “Do the scary thing first, Quagmires. And get scared later.”

They both took deep breaths, and then Isadora grabbed the rope and started down. Duncan followed, and once Violet grabbed the rope, she tossed the ball, watching as it hit the door to close the elevator shaft.

They were truly in the dark now.

#asoue #asoue au #asoue netflix #a series of unfortunate events #runaway baudelaires au #the ersatz elevator #all those things they couldn't say #my fanfic #asoue fanfiction #mine

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yallreddieforthis · 7 years ago

Text

He Came In Through the Window

Fandom: It (2017)

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Rating: T (for language, talking about sex, mentions of past sexual situations)

Words: 11.3k

Movie canon-compliant but not book. Aged-up (16-17) Also posted on AO3

"It’s finally happened. I cannot fit through this goddamn window. I’m out of ideas."

Eddie enlists the help of two other Losers to help fix his bedroom window, and finally spills the beans about what's going on between him and Richie.

“Alright babe,” Richie says, leaning on the sill and looking into Eddie’s eyes, “I’m gonna be straight with you for a second—”

“You’re gonna be straight?” Eddie mocks.

“Pfft. Straighter than you, that’s for sure,” says Richie. “Except, you know—my dick burns only for you, Eddie my love.”

“If your dick is burning, you should probably see a doctor,” Eddie tells him.

“—and although my raging desire for your dick cannot be contained…” Richie lightly socks the window frame and shakes his head.

Eddie suddenly realizes where this is going. His heart sinks as he grabs hold of the windowsill. “Oh my God, no you—”

“—it’s finally happened. I cannot fit through this goddamn window. I’m out of ideas.” Richie throws his hands in the air. Eddie can see the scrapes on both arms from his valiant, fruitless attempts to worm his way in.

And there it is. Eddie saw this coming many months ago, long before Richie hit six feet. In fact, in the last few weeks alone Richie has gotten stuck for over ten minutes at least four times, and they just sort of silently decided to collectively ignore it and hope that maybe Richie’s body would chill with the growing for one fucking second. They’re a third of the way into eleventh grade and it’s still going to be one year, seven months and eighteen days before they can ride off into the sunset or whatever together, and he’s suddenly being forced to face the prospect of no dick until then.

Unacceptable. Eddie has gotten used to getting off with Richie a minimum of two or three times a week—and cuddling every night—and he isn’t willing to settle for less.

Do not cry, Eddie tell himself sternly. Crying will not solve anything except that maybe Richie will just yell Oh Yeah! and try to Kool-Aid Man his way through the wall to comfort him, and Eddie’s mom is a heavy sleeper, but no one is that heavy of a sleeper.

No dick until college. No naked Richie. No Richie big-spooning him to sleep and then sneaking out again without waking Eddie up...

“No,” Eddie says and oh God, it comes out like a cross between a whine and a whimper and it’s almost as bad as crying.

To be fair, Eddie might be overreacting a tiny bit. It’s not like there’s no other way for them to ever like...make out and stuff. There have been a few times where they’ve managed to get some daytime action in on the weekends, although Eddie usually avoids that because Richie always starts singing Afternoon Delight when it’s clear that shit’s about to go down and it infuriates Eddie like nothing else. And even if that doesn’t work out, Richie is bound to get a car sooner or later, which will hopefully have a backseat. So there will be opportunities.

It’s just that Richie climbing through his bedroom window is like... Their Thing. Like, Eddie thinks they could trademark it. It’s a routine, it’s comforting, they’ve never gotten caught...and now it’s over. Forever.

“Trust me,” Richie says, “the despair is mutual. What if we just tried to like reeeeeally quietly sneak me through the front—”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head. “No, if she was in her room then like, maybe we could risk the hallway…”

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

Eddie just wishes his mom would sleep in her actual bed for once. She always, always falls asleep in front of the TV and it’s worse than having a gargoyle guarding the house. And Eddie doesn’t even want to think about what would happen if he got caught sneaking that disgusting Tozier boy into his bedroom in the middle of the night.

“Eds, are you crying?” Richie squints through the window.

“Pssh,” says Eddie, “no.” Even to his own ears it sounds watery.

“Okay I swear I’m gonna be like a fuckin’ ninja,” Richie pleads. “Just unlock the front door. Like, go unlock it and I’ll even wait a few minutes to come in, just so we don’t make too much noise at once. It’s gonna work, we can—”

“She’s literally right there, Richie,” Eddie says. “She can see the door from her chair. And if she catches us…” Eddie shakes his head, “she’ll put bars on my window, and then we’ll have no chance. Even if we could open it further—”

“Why doesn’t this window open all the way?” Richie asks. He pokes his head through and then turns around so he’s leaning back like he’s playing limbo and looking up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know,” Eddie says. “I guess...maybe that’s just the kind of window it is? Maybe it’s broken? What do I look like, Mario?”

“Mario’s a plumber, dumbass,” says Richie. “We need a carpenter. Wait, wasn’t Jesus a carpenter?”

“Oh, you’re brilliant,” Eddie tells him. “I’ll just pray real quick—like, dear God, please use your carpenter skills to fix my window so my boyfriend can come in and suck my dick.”

“Amen,” says Richie, squinting up at the window frame. He points at the latch from the outside. “That looks like it should go higher. Not like, a lot higher, but I think I could make it through even if it was just a couple inches. At least for now.”

“What you mean ‘for now?’” Eddie asks. “How much taller can you possibly get?”

“I dunno,” Richie tries to shrug, but only succeeds in whacking his shoulders on the window frame. He doesn’t even wince; he must be used to bumping into shit all the time. Eddie has no idea how he’d keep track of all his limbs at the same time if he was that long. “How much shorter can you possibly get?”

Rude. Eddie has been five foot five and no quarters of a inch for long enough that he’s kind of having to come to terms with the fact that that’s probably going to be it for him, but Richie didn’t have to call it out like that. Still, Eddie technically started it, so he figures he can’t get that mad.

“I think that’s literally impossible,” Eddie tells him. “Except for like maybe super old people.”

“Yeah, and I’ll still love you even when you’re so old and short that I have to use a fucking microscope to look at you,” Richie says.

Eddie snorts. “Yeah well, I’ll still love you even when you’re so tall and blind that I have to...shoot missiles into the sky to knock out airplanes before they hit your fat head.”

“That was terrible,” Richie declares, then he laughs, then bucks up and kisses the only part of Eddie he can reach—which is the underside of his nose.

Eddie splutters. “Don’t kiss my nostrils like that, it’s like you’re...like you’re kissing boogers.”

“I’ll eat your boogers any day, babe,” Richie replies, grinning up at him like an idiot.

Eddie shoves the top of his head out the window. “Go home, Richie,” he orders him. “That’s it. That’s the grossest thing you’ve ever said to me. We’re done. I’m closing the window now.”

“No!” Richie cries, still laughing. “I’m gonna have blue balls. At least do a sexy dance or something and I’ll just like jerk it out here before I—”

“I can’t hear you,” Eddie says over him, shoving down on the window frame. “I can’t hear you over the sound of me closing the window on your nasty ass. And I’m not even gonna be sorry when your dick gets frostbite and falls off because you decided to whip it out when it’s fifty fucking degrees out—”

“I’m totally gonna whip it out,” Richie says, reaching for his belt. “I’m just gonna stand here jacking off outside your window until—”

“You could get arrested for that, actually,” Eddie informs him, and Richie looks like he’s about to reply when he suddenly jerks his hand away from his jeans and grabs the windowsill. He’s got that face on that can only mean one thing: mind switched gears, new topic.

“Oh,” says Richie. “Oh oh oh new idea—do you have an attic?”

“I...maybe?” Eddie says. There’s no way his mom would allow him to go up there if there even is one.

“What if—seriously—what if we just like cut a hole in the roof and—”

“You think my mom isn’t going to notice a fucking hole in the roof? What happens when it rains?!”

“No, I mean like a hole we can open and close,” says Richie.

“You mean like a trapdoor,” Eddie says. “Like we build an entire trapdoor. In my roof.”

“Yeah!” says Richie. “Like that. I played this game once where—”

“Goodnight, Richie.” Eddie closes the window.

“I love you,” Richie calls from outside the house. He smacks a kiss right on the window pane before making a rude tongue-between-two-fingers gesture and wandering off down the side of the house, arms swinging.

“Rough night?” Ben asks, plopping a stack of books on the desk and sitting down next to Eddie.

“Yeah, I guess,” Eddie says, rubbing his eyes. English is about to start in like two minutes and he knows he looks like shit—bloodshot eyes, dark circles, kind of a mess—and he knows why, too: apparently Eddie’s brain has decided that he is no longer allowed to fall asleep without Richie’s arms around him. And that’s just fucking...great. Eddie lay in bed for hours and hours last night, and at some point after three in the morning he started calculating when the last time was he fell asleep without Richie there and it was like...over six months ago.

He hasn’t seen Richie yet today and he isn’t looking forward to it. Richie is going to instantly know something is wrong, and then he’s going to pester it out of him. Eddie feels like an idiot even thinking the words I can’t sleep without you anymore and can’t imagine saying them without wanting to sink into the ground and die. Richie will without a doubt proceed to tease the absolute shit out of him for it, but then he’ll start pitching newer and stupider ideas for how to get in with renewed vigor. Which will probably result in Richie accidentally burning Eddie’s house down. With the best intentions, of course.

The worst part about this scenario—the one in which Richie torches Eddie’s childhood home to the ground and destroys everything inside—is that it means his mom will find out about him and Richie in the ensuing court case. Eddie can’t have that.

His mom tried to keep him home today because she said he looked like he was coming down with something, but Eddie stubbornly refused. If falling asleep without Richie is his new reality, then he damn well better get used to it.

“Are you okay?” Ben asks, turning to face Eddie and narrowing his eyes.

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, but he knows it sounds unconvincing and Ben isn’t stupid.

Ben also isn’t a prier—he lets people come out with stuff when they’re ready—which is partly why Eddie still hasn’t told him (or any of them) about him and Richie. Still. It’s been what...a year and two months? A year and three months? And Eddie still hasn’t managed to spit it out. He and Richie talked about it during the second semester of last year; there was a discussion that was basically Richie saying, hey uh, are we gonna tell the others about this ever or what? and Eddie was like, yeah for sure, can we just wait until I’m ready? And like...apparently he’s still not ready.

It makes him feel kind of sick every time he thinks about it, especially the fact that Richie hasn’t even brought it up again, and Richie is the actual worst secret-keeper of all time. Once in kindergarten, Stan threw up in one of the cubbies where they all kept their backpacks and Richie was the only one who actually saw, but the entire class knew about it within thirty seconds. They hadn’t known Ben longer than fifteen minutes before Richie told him that Bill had kissed Beverly in third grade. Richie does not do secrets. Not telling the others about this whopper must be killing him.

Ben sighs and opens up the top book on his stack. “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Eddie looks blearily to the side and is about to say something like thanks I will and not mean it at all when his eyes decide to focus all of a sudden, and he notices that titles on Ben’s book stack are all things like A History of New England Architecture, and A Guide to Colonial and Spanish Style Homes. Eddie sits up straight.

“Actually,” he says, “what...how much do you know about windows?”

“Windows?” Ben repeats, looking up from his book. “Uh...I mean, a little, I guess. Why?”

Eddie thinks fast.

“I have this window in my house and it’s like broken or something. How do you fix that?”

Ben’s face is the picture of confusion.

“Well...um, do you mean like the glass is broken? I think you just have to get a new pane if—”

“No no no,” Eddie interrupts, feeling much more energetic than he has in hours. “There’s nothing wrong with the glass, it’s like...it gets stuck if you try to open it all the way."

“What kind of window is it?” Ben asks.

“Uh…a bedroom window?”

“Like, is it a stationary?” Ben asks. “Or an awning type, or a transom—”

“A what?”

Ben tears a page out of his English notebook—neatly, along the perforated edge. “Can you draw it for me?”

Eddie has been sleeping in the same bedroom for his entire life and staring out the only window in it as long as he can remember, and suddenly when faced with the task of drawing it, he can’t seem to remember what it looks like at all.

“Uh… So there’s a bottom part here,” Eddie says, trying to sketch, “and then you pull from the bottom and it stops like halfway up—”

“Can you open it from the top too?” Ben asks.

“No, it only goes—”

“That looks like a single-hung window,” Ben says, nodding. Eddie feels better already. Ben always knows what to do; Eddie was stupid for not coming to him sooner. Like, maybe before it became a goddamn crisis. That would’ve been smart.

“Can you help me fix it?” he asks.

“How long has it been broken?” Ben squints at Eddie’s terrible sketch like it’s going to give him any information at all.

Eddie shrugs. “Forever?”

“I mean there’s probably not anything I can do about it,” says Ben, eyebrows furrowed.

“Maybe you could just come look?” Eddie says. He knows Ben thinks he’s not qualified to deal with this, but Eddie has a distinct memory of Ben biting that god damn clown on the arm and then stabbing it through the back, so he feels that he can be forgiven for his confidence that Ben is capable of a lot more than he thinks he is.

“Well, I was going to call—”

Eddie doesn’t exactly purposely make his eyes look bigger and sadder and more pitiful than they already are, but he doesn’t not do that either. Cute cute cute, he thinks, unbidden. In Richie's voice. It’s gotta be good for something.

“You know what? Nevermind. I can do that tomorrow or...yeah,” Ben says. “So, do you want me to come straight over with—”

“Yes! Yes,” Eddie says. “Please.”

“Cool,” Ben says. “Is...is that what kept you up all night? A broken window?”

“Kinda sorta,” Eddie tells him. “It’s bugging me.”

Ben looks like he’s about to say something else, but just then Mr. Duncan stands up and starts the alright class, let’s get going spiel, so Eddie just faces front and hopes he can come up with a reason Ben will buy as to why he suddenly desperately today right now needs this window that’s never worked to open.

But more than that, it occurs to him that maybe he just...won’t lie. Maybe he doesn’t need to think of a fake reason. His eyes glaze over the text of Julius Caesar. Usually Eddie comes up with some kind of contingency plan whenever he makes the decision to Tell Everyone for when he inevitably chickens out at the last minute. He’s gone through that process at least fifteen times, and honestly it’s getting kind of exhausting. And he’s already exhausted enough. Maybe he just won’t give himself the out this time. He puts his head on the desk, just for a second, just to rest his eyes, and then suddenly the bell for second period is ringing. Eddie heaves a sigh. It’s going to be...a really long day.

Eddie gets Ben into the house under the ruse of Ben is helping me with an English project ma, he’s got the best grades in the class, and now Ben is crouched down under the window, fiddling with the latch.

“See, it goes up until there,” Eddie says, watching Ben lift the window. “And then—”

Eddie collapses onto his bed with a groan.

Ben hums, pulling the window back down. He tests it out a few times before peering up into the frame.

“Have you checked the frame?” he asks.

“We were—I mean, I was looking at it last night but it was really dark,” Eddie says from under his pillow, hoping Ben missed the slip-up. “I don’t even know what to look for, even if I could’ve seen it.”

Eddie has, predictably, suddenly decided against telling Ben about him and Richie. Like he always does. This time, his excuse is that he didn’t give Richie a heads up that he was going to do it and that seems like the kind of thing Eddie should probably warn him about first, and also maybe Richie wants to be there when other people find out. And now Eddie is a little bit pissed at himself for not thinking of a contingency plan in case he chickened out...again.

Ben is quiet for a minute before—

“Oh,” Ben says, the kind of oh that means he’s going to fix all of Eddie’s problems. Eddie lurches into a seated position. He already wants to hug Ben. “I see it.”

“Can you fix it?” Eddie asks, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.

“Here,” says Ben. “Come look. See that part right there, on the side? That’s water damage. The wood—”

“How do you fix water damage?” Eddie asks him, walking toward the window. Eddie doesn’t particularly care why it isn’t working. He just wants it to work.

“Well, I don’t think there’s a good long-term solution other than replacing the window,” Ben tells him. “But maybe…”

“Yes?”

Ben turns away from the window for a second and looks Eddie right in the eye.

“Why is this suddenly such a big problem?” he asks. “You said it’s never worked, right?”

Eddie’s eyes dart to his door. They’re not talking loudly enough that his mom would be able to hear them from the living room, but if Ben is as close to discovering the truth as Eddie thinks he is, he doesn’t want to take any chances. Ben bites his lip, then walks to the bedroom door and closes it.

“Can I ask you something?” he says quietly.

“Uh...sure,” says Eddie, and he knows in his heart that the jig is definitely up before Ben even opens his mouth. His heartbeat speeds up.

“Are you and Richie—”

“Yes,” Eddie interrupts, before he can stop himself. “Whatever you were gonna say, yes we are.”

Eddie exhales. Holy shit. Honestly, it feels so fucking good to tell him. Eddie always expected there would be at least a little discomfort or weirdness or something unpleasant, but there’s not. There’s just this sweet sense of relief and a knot he didn’t even know existed loosening in his stomach. He wants to kick Past Eddie in the balls for not doing this sooner.

Ben’s face breaks into a radiant smile. “Oh wow. I thought so. Does the window thing have anything to do with—”

“Richie won’t fit through the window anymore,” Eddie says, and it’s like the words are tumbling out of his mouth faster than he can keep up with them. “He couldn’t get in last night and I can’t fall asleep if he’s not like...in the bed with me.”

“Wow,” Ben breathes out, and Eddie can hear him thinking how romantic and he wishes he couldn’t because Eddie already knows Richie has turned him into an absolute sap—he doesn’t need further confirmation from other people ooh-ing over them. “Okay. So...first of all—”

“Anything you want to know about...that, like, Richie and me, I’ll tell you,” Eddie says. “But can you please fix the window, I feel like I can’t even think about anything else until I know he’s gonna be able to get in tonight.”

Ben huffs out a laugh and smiles again. “Okay. I don’t really have any experience fixing stuff like that, but Mike told me a few months ago that he had to help his grandpa work on their shed because there was water damage from the rain. He might be able to figure it out.”

“Hmm.” Eddie clicks his tongue, thinking hard. His mom doesn’t really know Mike very well, it’s possible he could just pretend Mike’s from school and say they’re working on the project together. If he got him in fast enough, his mom might not even get a good enough look to question it.

“Be right back,” he tells Ben.

Eddie walks down the hall and into the kitchen. He can see the glow from the TV in the living room out of the corner of his eye, can hear some guy sobbing on Days of Our Lives. The music on the show pauses dramatically as Eddie dials Mike’s number.

Ring...ring…

“Hello?”

“Hi Mr. Hanlon,” Eddie says, making a conscious effort to slow his voice down. Adults are always telling Eddie to speak more slowly and it drives him crazy, but he doesn’t want to have to repeat himself over and over right now. “Can I speak to Mike please?”

“Who is this?” Mr. Hanlon asks, not particularly politely.

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” says Eddie. “I’m a friend of Mike’s.”

“Hold on.”

Eddie hears Mr. Hanlon put the phone down on the other line and he leans back against the kitchen table, tapping his fingers against the receiver.

“Eddie-bear?” his mother’s voice floats in from the living room. Eddie’s not sure how he never realized before how fucking creepy it sounds sometimes. Like just this disembodied voice trying to control every aspect of his life. Eddie puts his hand over the speaker.

“Yes, Mommy?”

“Who are you calling?” she asks.

“Mike from English,” Eddie lies. “He’s...we’re doing this project together. I was going to see if he could come over too, so Ben could help both of us.” Please, please, please be too interested in RJ or JT or whoever’s problems to care about mine.

“Not too long,” she says, and Eddie breathes a sigh of relief.

Eddie hears shuffling on the other line, then a voice.

“Eddie? What’s going on?”

“Hi Mike,” says Eddie. “Um...you wanna come over and work on the English project?”

“What?” says Mike. “I don’t—wait. Is your mom listening? Is everything—”

“Uh, yeah. I have Ben here,” Eddie continues over him, choosing his words carefully. “He says the poster part would be a lot easier with you here. We don’t have the...um...stuff we need.”

“Your house?” Mike asks. “I can be there in twenty minutes. What do you need me to bring?”

God, Eddie could hug Mike too. He suddenly gets the image of himself being squeezed in the middle of a Mike-and-Ben sandwich and honestly, that might be enough to get him to fall asleep without Richie. Sleep...sleep sounds so good...

“Uh…” Eddie pauses. “Just your backpack. And um…”

“I have...farming tools?” Mike suggests. “Want me to start naming stuff?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” says Eddie, trying to sort of muffle his voice in case his mom is listening. “Weneedtofixawoodenwindowframe,” he whispers under his breath, praying that Mike is able to understand him.

“Wha—oh,” Mike says. “Okay. Like maybe...a hammer? Nails? Screwdriver?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Eddie replies, suddenly wishing he and Ben had come up with a slightly more detailed plan than get Mike. Although, to be fair, get Mike is an amazing solution that can solve almost any conceivable problem Eddie’s ever had.

“Tell you what, I’m just gonna grab whatever I can find that might help,” Mike says. “I’ll be right over, okay?”

“Okay,” says Eddie. “Thanks, Mike—Iloveyousomuch—see you soon!”

“Eddie?” his mom calls again as Eddie hangs the phone up.

“Yes?”

“Did you just say ‘thanks Mike sandwich see you soon’?” his mom asks.

“Uh...yeah. Mike Sandwich is his nickname,” Eddie lies, straight out of his ass. “He...brings ham and cheese for lunch every day.” He makes a face at himself. What the hell kind of…

“Okay,” his mom calls back. Evidently she’s too interested in whatever the screaming lady on Days of Our Lives has to say to divert more energy into figuring out what the fuck Eddie could be doing with Mike Sandwich.

Eddie walks back down the hall to his bedroom and quietly closes the door.

“Is he coming?” Ben asks.

“Yeah, he’ll be right over,” Eddie says.

Ben sits down on Eddie’s bed and makes himself comfortable.

“Great. So until he gets here we can talk about you and Richie.”

“Yeah, okay,” says Eddie, perching on the other side of the bed. “What do you want to know?”

“First of all, I knew something was up. I knew it. I was—”

“How the fuck did you know?” Eddie asks, planning on making a mental note to yell at Richie later for whatever it was he did that blew their cover. “I’m like constantly telling him to stop pretending he’s gonna kiss me in public and pushing his hands off me and—”

“Yeah, that’s what gave it away,” Ben says. “All of a sudden last year you just started acting really freaked out every time he touched you. And one time I heard you whisper ‘stop touching my butt where other people can see you—are you aware we’re at fucking school right now?’”

“Wait wait wait,” Eddie interrupts. “Are you saying I was the one who gave it away?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” says Ben. “Richie’s always done that kind of stuff; you just used to go with it and then—”

Eddie has no doubt that Ben remembers that verbatim. Unfortunately, Eddie has said it on at least a dozen different occasions, so it’s impossible to tell when exactly Ben might’ve overheard.

“Oh my God,” Eddie groans. “Do you think everyone knows?”

“Do you mean...everyone like Beverly and Bill and Mike and Stan?” Ben asks. “Or like everyone everyone?”

“Everyone at school…”

“No way.” Ben shakes his head. “No way they’re paying attention. But the rest of us… I kind of told Beverly I thought something might be up. Sorry if—”

“No, that’s okay,” Eddie says. “We were always going to tell you guys, I was just being…”

“You know none of us will think any differently of you, right?” Ben says, sitting up straighter and looking Eddie right in the eye.

“No, I know,” Eddie says. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to—I just...yeah. It was like—it started happening and then—”

“What started happening?”

“Whenever we were alone together we’d like...be kissing or whatever...or then, you know, other stuff...and it was even hard to talk to him about it. You don’t… I was just freaked out because…fuck.” Eddie is having a hard time coming up with a way to say what he means without sounding like he’s insulting Ben.

“Hey,” Ben says softly, leaning towards Eddie. “Remember this?”

He reaches out and takes Eddie’s left hand in his, letting Eddie’s fingers slide over the slightly raised skin of his scar. They don’t talk about it often, but it’s something all of them have done at one point to each other—reminding one another that whatever it is that’s going on isn’t stronger than their bond. Of what they overcame together.

“Yeah,” says Eddie, nodding. “But—”

“No, there’s no ‘but,’” Ben insists. “‘But’ nothing. You love Richie, Richie loves you, and that’s great. I think it’s great. The rest of us will too. And if people find out—other people—and they give you guys a hard time, they’ll have us to reckon with. We’ll all fight for you.”

Eddie gets that this is an emotional moment and that maybe he should be crying or some shit—and also he suddenly really understands why Ben has the best grades in their English class—but instead of sobs, what comes out of his mouth when he opens it is just this...it’s like a Shakespeare-style monologue of every romantic thought he’s ever had about Richie in his life. He takes maybe two breaths in ten minutes and he knows he’s talking so fast that Ben can’t possibly be processing more than a third of what he’s saying, but he can’t stop. He can barely keep up with himself. It’s like now that he has someone to say it all to, he has to say it all right now.

“...and just like sometimes I just look at him and he just smiles at me and just ugh, you know?”

“...on Valentine’s Day he literally brought me chocolate. I mean, it was a king-size Kit-Kat and I think he stole it from the Circle K and it was melted because he forgot to take it out of his pocket but, you know, it was still pretty cute…”

“...and then sometimes I think that Heroes by David Bowie has to be, like “our song” because like the lyrics are so amazing and I think about that ‘you will be mean’ part and how—”

The doorbell rings. Eddie stops speaking abruptly and turns toward his bedroom door.

“Are you gonna tell Mike right now?” Ben asks.

“Yeah, probably,” Eddie says, suddenly wishing all of them were here. He’s gonna have to wait to tell everyone else, but his mouth has clearly done a manual override of his brain and all he can do is hope he doesn’t declare his undying love for Richie to Mike in front of his mother.

Eddie races to the front door. Mike is standing outside, truck parked neatly in the driveway and carrying a very full-looking backpack on both shoulders.

“Come in,” says Eddie, practically dragging Mike inside and pushing him as far down the hall as he can while calling “Mom, this is Mike, Mike this is Mom, come on, let’s get started,” in the direction of the living room. He slams his bedroom door shut behind Mike.

“Are you okay, Eddie?” Mike asks immediately.

“Not really,” Eddie answers honestly. “We need to make that window open all the way before it gets dark so that Richie can fit through it tonight.”

“Oh,” says Mike, “okay. What’s keeping it from—“

“Richie and I are together,” Eddie volunteers. “Like...boyfriends, or whatever.”

“Not or whatever,” Ben interjects. “You are boyfriends.”

Mike really does have the most charming smile Eddie’s ever seen. “Wow, I bet Richie is over the moon,” he says.

“Why?” Eddie asks.

“Well,” says Mike, dropping his backpack over next to the window and unzipping it, “obviously cause you’re a catch.”

Eddie just hopes he doesn’t look as blush-y and butterflies-in-the-stomach-y as he feels. He should be used to Mike’s easy compliments by now, but they always seem to catch him off-guard. He’s not flirting or anything, he’s just really that nice.

“Also cause he told me a while back about how much he wanted to be with you,” Mike continues, “and he talks about how much he likes you all the time when you’re not there. When did you guys—”

“Um, like...last summer,” Eddie says.

Mike’s eyebrows raise as he peers up into the window frame. “Really? That’s about when he told me he was crushing on you the first time, I just didn’t—oh, I see it. Water damage, huh?”

“That’s what I thought,” Ben says, getting up from the bed and crouching down next to Mike.

“Yeah, see that part sticking out right there?” Mike points to something and Ben nods. “I bet if you chipped it off—”

“But what if it gets humid?” Ben says. “Then it’s just going to start warping out again.”

“Nah,” says Mike. “I mean, yeah it will, but it’ll take years to get this bad again. You could probably put a sealant over it though—if you have some, I don’t have any—and that would at least delay the—”

“I literally only need this window to function for another one year, seven months and eighteen days,” Eddie interjects. “It can fall apart the next morning after that as far as I care.”

Mike laughs. “Gotcha. Here’s the thing though: I’m assuming your mom doesn’t know about any of this.”

“Right,” Eddie confirms.

“I’m thinking I’m probably gonna need to use a chisel or something and scrape that damaged part out. I’ll try to keep it as quiet as I can,” Mike says.

Eddie watches from his perch on the bed as Mike rummages through his backpack and emerges with what Eddie assumes must be a chisel, then crouches down and begins using it to pick at something in the window frame.

“Wow,” he says after a few minutes. “This stuff is just chipping right off. Eddie, you might want to sweep it up or something, Richie’s gonna step right in the splinters if we leave them here.”

Eddie hums. Going out to the kitchen to get a broom… He screws up his face. Too risky. He walks over to Mike, then gets down on his knees and starts carefully picking up the splinters with his fingers, collecting them in the palm of his other hand. Mike stops scraping for a second to stare at him, mouth open.

“You really do love Richie,” Ben says. His voice is nothing short of awestruck.

“You didn’t get that from all the shit I said earlier?” Eddie asks him, dropping the splinters into the garbage can.

“Yeah but...you just picked up a bunch of splinters with your bare hands,” Ben points out. “And you didn’t even complain about it. That’s love. Especially coming from you.”

Ben...has a point. Eddie dusts off his hands over the garbage one last time.

“That was all the loose stuff,” Mike says, looking up into the window once more. “The rest looks like it’s gonna be harder to scrape out. Just to be safe, you might want to—I don’t know—make some noise or something to cover it up. You think she’s listening?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie nods, reaching under the bed and producing a towel. “Definitely. If she hears like...hammering or whatever she’ll get really suspicious. But here, take this. Once I go out there, just like jam it as hard as you can under the door. I use it every night to soundproof the room so...you know. So she can’t hear...yeah. Us.”

Mike makes an attempt at hiding his smile and fails. Ben doesn’t even bother trying. Eddie’s face feels like it’s on fire.

“Got it,” Ben tells him, taking the towel and rolling it up like a burrito. “What are you going to do to distract her?”

“I dunno,” Eddie says, glancing around the room for ideas. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation or the adrenaline rush of telling Ben and Mike his Big Secret, but he’s feeling reckless and lucky and his eyes settle on the boombox by his desk. “Something crazy.”

Eddie heaves the heavy cassette player into his arms on his way to the door and strides down the hallway, stopping where his mom can see him, but where he can also glance sideways and see his door. The door shuts very quietly, and then the light from underneath it disappears as Eddie assumes Ben has inserted the towel underneath.

Eddie’s mom is sitting in her chair, like always, painting her fingernails. Eddie doesn’t even have to look to tell the color—a frosted, bubblegum pink that he knows by sight if not by name, made by Revlon—because he’s been using it to paint her toenails (which she can’t reach) every other week since he can remember. She looks up at him.

“What’re you boys up to, Eddie-bear?” she asks, blowing daintily on her pinky finger.

“Just homework,” Eddie tells her quickly. “We wanted to put some music on, but I think—do we have any D batteries?”

“Did you check—”

Just then, Eddie hears a soft thudding sound from the direction of his room. His mom’s eyes dart toward the hallway.

Thinking fast—or possibly not even thinking at all—Eddie slams the play button.

WE ALWAYS HAVE A REAL GOOD TIME

AND MAYBE HE SINGS OFF-KEY

BUT THAT’S ALRIGHT BY ME

Eddie’s mom almost drops her bottle of nail polish in surprise. The volume must’ve been at max—turning the dial all the way up when Eddie’s not looking so the next time he puts on music it practically blasts him across the room is a favorite prank of Richie’s—and Eddie has never in his life been so grateful for it. It’s the perfect distraction, and the kind of favor Richie only seems to be able to do by accident. God damn, Eddie loves that asshole.

“Sorry Mommy!” Eddie calls, pretending to fiddle with the dials in search of the volume. Like he doesn’t know where it is.

BECAUSE WHAT HE DOES, HE DOES SO WELL

Damn right, Eddie thinks, fighting off the insane giggle bubbling up in his throat. He crouches down with the boombox and glances surreptitiously toward the hallway. Nothing is happening.

MAKES ME WANT TO YELL

LET’S HEAR IT FOR THE BOY

LET’S GIVE THE BOY A HAND

Eddie’s glad there’s no way his mom can hear his suppressed laughter over Deniece Williams. God, he needs some sleep.

Eddie looks up in time to see his mom place her nail polish on the TV tray. Oh shit. What if she gets up? Eddie didn’t think of that. He looks desperately toward the hallway. Nothing.

“No, Ma—don’t get up—I got it,” he calls again. “It’s just—”

A frantic motion out of the corner of his eye grabs his attention. It’s Ben—he’s opened Eddie’s bedroom door and is waving. When Eddie looks up at him, he smiles and gives him a thumbs up.

MAYBE HE’S NO ROMEO

BUT HE’S MY LOVIN’ ONE-MAN SHOW

WHOA WHOA—

Eddie smacks the power button and the music stops abruptly. He stares up at his mom, who has placed a hand on each armrest like she’s about to heave herself up off the chair.

“Guess it doesn’t need new batteries,” Eddie says, going for a bright, cheerful tone.

“Eddie, it’s not good for your hearing to listen to loud music,” his mom says, settling back in her chair and picking up her nail polish bottle again. “And your friends should go home before it gets too late.”

“Yes, Ma,” he tells her, heaving the boombox back into his arms and making his exit. He sets it back on his desk once he’s back in his room and looks anxiously up at Mike.

“I love that song, by the way,” says Ben, closing the door behind him and replacing the towel under Eddie’s bed.

Mike beams and raises the window as far as it will go—which is at least four inches higher than it was last night. Richie will be able to make it through without becoming a contortionist. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief and sinks down onto his bed.

“Thanks so much,” Eddie breathes out, rubbing his eyes.

“You look like you could use a nap,” Mike tells him.

“Want me to call Richie?” Ben asks.

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, “I better… I have so much homework. I need to read whatever it was we went over in English today. I think I fell asleep.”

“You did,” Ben says, patting him on the back. “We went over Antony’s speech. Act III.”

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles. “Thank you guys. Seriously. So much.”

“Hey,” says Mike, patting him on the shoulder. “Anytime.” Eddie smiles up at him.

Ben is quiet for a moment before he says, “Are you gonna tell Bill and Stan? And—”

“You can tell Beverly,” Eddie finishes for him. Ben looks very pleased. “I’ll tell Bill and Stan. Or maybe I’ll let Richie do it—I don’t know. I have to talk to him—I didn’t tell him I was gonna tell you guys either. He’s wanted to for like...ever. I was the one being weird about it. And I don’t want you to think it was anything you did or… It was just me. I was freaked out and I kind of still am because—”

“No,” Mike interrupts, “it’s okay. People here… It’s not easy being different. I get that.”

“I should’ve told you guys though,” Eddie says. “Like, I knew you’d—I knew you wouldn’t treat me like…”

“No one’s mad at you,” Ben tells him, very gently.

“No, I know,” says Eddie. “I’m just mad at myself because like… Jesus, I knew as soon as I told you I’d be like, why the fuck didn’t I do this sooner like I basically put myself into this stupid position and—”

“Eddie?” his mom calls from the living room. “I think it’s about time your friends head home. They’ve been here long enough, especially since you weren’t feeling well this morning. You need to start getting ready for dinner.”

“Just a minute,” Eddie calls back.

“It’s not even four…” Ben whispers to Eddie in confusion.

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Don’t even try. It’s not...she just doesn’t want me to have friends over. Or like...friends. At all.”

“What does she want you to do?” Mike asks.

“She wants me to sit in the living room and watch The Bold and The Beautiful with her until one of us dies,” Eddie responds. He nods at the identical looks of horror on Ben and Mike’s faces.

“That’s…” Mike starts.

“One year. Seven months. Eighteen days,” Eddie repeats. It’s his personal mantra. “Then Richie and I…” Eddie snaps his fingers and flings out his arm. “Gone.”

“To where?” asks Ben.

“We don’t know yet,” Eddie says, standing and preparing to escort Ben and Mike to the front door. “We’ve talked about New York, LA. I guess it depends where we get in. Or, you know, where I get in. If Richie wants to go to college, or…”

“Can I come visit you guys there?” Ben asks, swinging his backpack onto his shoulders as Mike does the same.

“You better,” Eddie says with a grin, directing his answer to both of them. Eddie follows them down the hall as Mike quietly offers Ben a ride home and Ben accepts with murmured thanks. They nod politely to Eddie’s mom, who doesn’t look away from the TV. Eddie watches their retreating backs for a moment, wishing he could go with them to...wherever. Somewhere else.

“Eddie-bear.”

Eddie takes a deep breath, shutting the door behind his friends, and closes his eyes, preparing to face his mom. One year. Seven months. Eighteen days.

After a microwaved dinner eaten with his mom in front of the TV, Eddie takes advantage of a commercial break during Wheel of Fortune while she gets up to use the bathroom.

“Yeeello?”

“Hey,” Eddie whispers quickly into the phone.

“I gotta tell you,” Richie says, “when you use that secret-mission spy voice it does something to my—”

“Shut up,” Eddie hisses. “I fixed the problem.”

“What problem?”

“You know... the problem we were having?” Eddie doesn’t want to say the window just in case his mom has somehow developed supersonic hearing. “It’s fixed.”

“The...oh my God,” says Richie. “Oh my God, start unzipping right now and I’ll be there by the time your pants hit the floor.” There’s a click as Richie hangs up the phone.

Not one second later, Eddie hears the toilet flush at the other end of the hall. He hurries to take his seat back in the living room, hoping he looks like he hasn’t moved.

“I think I’m going to go to bed a little early,” Eddie tells his mom once she’s gotten settled in her chair.

“Sweetie,” she says, turning towards him and gazing at him like she’s trying to X-ray him with her eyes, “are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Oh yeah, Ma,” says Eddie, nodding confidently, smiling his sweetest. “I’m fine, but I know you were worried so I want to make sure I get plenty of sleep.” Gotta really slather it on.

“Alright,” she tells him, apparently satisfied. Oh yeah, eat that shit up, Mom. “Good night. I love you, Eddie-bear.” She proffers her cheek for him to kiss and he does so.

Eddie has biked between his and Richie’s houses at least a hundred times over the course of his life, and because of that, he is aware that it takes almost exactly seven minutes to do so. Which is why after saying goodnight to his mother, brushing his teeth, washing his face and using the bathroom (all of which took a total of five minutes) he is surprised to walk into his bedroom and see Richie’s face peering at him from outside the window. He shoves the towel under the door and rushes to let Richie in.

“How the fuck did you get here so fast?” he whispers, opening the window.

Richie wags his eyebrows, grinning wide. “Followed my heart. And by that I mean my—”

“I know what you mean.” Eddie rolls his eyes.

“What?” Richie says, poking his head in. “Can’t a guy be excited to see his boyfriend?”

“You already saw me,” Eddie says, watching with satisfaction and relief as Richie climbs easily through the window. “You saw me like...all day. Lunch and history and—”

The rest of Eddie’s sentence is drowned out by Richie kissing him—hard and deep, hands in Eddie’s hair. Eddie wraps his arms around Richie’s neck and sighs in contentment because this...this is what all that stress was for, it’s worth tiptoeing around his mother and the sneaking and the—

“I notice your pants are still on,” Richie whispers against his lips.

Eddie tries to think of something witty to say back, or maybe something kind of sexy, but when he tries to speak—to his absolute horror—he instead yawns directly into Richie’s mouth.

Richie immediately stops kissing him and pulls back, staring, eyebrows so high they’ve disappeared into his hair.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you, Eds?”

“No,” Eddie squeaks, untangling his arms from around Richie and using both hands to cover his mouth. His body apparently decides that the first yawn didn’t get the message across, so he yawns again, furiously trying to keep his mouth closed and his expression even.

“What the fuck was that?” Richie asks. “Did you just shit yourself?” Charming, as always.

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie says. “I didn’t—ew. No. I’m just…”

“About to pass the fuck out,” Richie says, nodding. He’s still smiling just as brightly as he was when he arrived. He then stands up very straight (which he rarely does—it adds to his already ridiculous height noticeably) and bends at the waist. “Allow me to escort you to your chambers, Sleeping Beauty.”

“No—Richie I—”

Before Eddie can say anything else, Richie has hoisted him up under the knees and is attempting to carry him—bridal-style—to bed. Eddie flails wildly.

“Put me down, put me down,” he says, pushing away from Richie’s chest and trying not to fall on his ass. “Stop stop stop, you can’t—”

“What do you mean I can’t?” Richie interrupts, struggling mightily under Eddie’s weight. His legs wobble during the five or six steps it takes him to transport Eddie from the window to the bed, but to his credit, he doesn’t drop him.

“Jesus,” Richie says, heaving Eddie bodily into the bed and kicking his shoes off without untying the laces, “how are you ten thousand pounds? What the fuck have you been eating lately?”

“It’s not me, you’re just weak as hell,” Eddie replies as Richie sticks his tongue out, dropping his coat on the floor. He grabs his shirt from the back of his neck and pulls it off in one fluid motion, tossing it down with his jacket and getting started on his belt while Eddie watches. It’s...he’s so exhausted, but he can’t help licking his lips. Watching Richie unbuckle his belt one-handed, pull down his fly…

“Don’t look at me like that,” Richie says, interrupting his thoughts. “You need sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Eddie grumbles.

Richie climbs into bed behind him. Eddie huffs a little wistfully at the trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of Richie’s boxers.

“My dick will still be there tomorrow, don’t worry,” Richie assures him, pulling the covers up over both of them and cuddling up behind him.

“Not if you keep bugging Stan the way you were at lunch today,” Eddie says, twisting around to look him in the eye. “I thought he was gonna chop your balls off right there in the cafeteria.”

“Stan loves me,” Richie says confidently, kissing Eddie softly on the lips. “He just shows it through death threats. It’s our thing. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“No, I totally understand,” Eddie says. “I want to kill you half the time too.”

“Then I for sure have something to look forward to tomorrow,” says Richie, pulling Eddie close and wrapping his arms around him. “I get a handjob, or murdered. Sounds like a good time either way.”

Eddie chuckles softly. “Shut up, Richie.”

“See?” Richie says, nuzzling into Eddie’s hair. “You do love me.”

“I do,” Eddie murmurs. His eyes are closing of their own volition, but he knows he has something important to talk to Richie about. “And I told that to Ben and Mike today.”

Richie tightens his grip around Eddie. “You did? Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What’d they say?” Richie asks.

Eddie smiles. “They were cool.”

“Did you ever think they wouldn’t be?”

“Nah,” says Eddie. “I knew they would be, I just…”

“You wanna tell Bill and Stan too?” Richie asks.

“Mmm,” says Eddie. “Yeah. Movie Day.”

“Okay.” Richie presses a kiss into Eddie’s hair.

The last thing he remembers hearing—the last thing he remembers at all before his alarm goes off in the morning—is Richie whispering in his ear, “You know...I didn’t get any sleep last night either.”

Three nights of falling asleep in Richie’s arms and Eddie is feeling a lot better by the time he’s biking over to Bill’s on Saturday for an Extra Special Movie Day. It’s windy as fuck, and Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough have gone out of town to pick up like, an antique dresser or something that Mr. Denbrough is supposed to re-lacquer or sand or do whatever it is he does to the shit he works on. Eddie imagines that for popular kids this kind of no-parents opportunity would be a house party occasion, but all it means for them is that they’ll probably watch something R-rated instead of PG-13.

Eddie’s not sure what, though. Richie, who either doesn’t understand their turn-based system or just pretends not to, had been campaigning for Silence of the Lambs, although admittedly he didn’t get very far. Frankly, Eddie he feels like he personally has been scared enough for one lifetime, although he hadn’t actually wanted to say that, but Mike—in an unprecedented move—flat-out refused. Mike never vetoes people’s suggestions, which Eddie guesses is the reason Richie immediately dropped it and hasn’t brought it up again.

Eddie turns onto Witcham, trying to remember whose weekend it is to pick the movie. It’s not his and it’s not Richie’s, that he knows for sure. He suspects it’s either Bill or Ben, neither of which is a particularly good thing. Bill picked Bull Durham last time they watched something R-rated, which was about baseball and had a sex scene that was… Well, it was just a lot. Eddie doesn’t really like watching sex scenes, especially not with other people. It’s not terrible if it’s just him and Richie—even though Richie invariably starts cracking jokes or imitating the moaning noises—but Eddie could definitely go for not sitting in uncomfortable silence surrounded by all his friends, watching in Susan Sarandon get nailed by Kevin Costner in a bathtub.

Ben almost invariably chooses romantic movies, often comedies. They’re usually at least critically acclaimed because Ben is a tasteful guy like that. However, Ben is also a serial re-watcher, and Eddie liked Sleepless in Seattle the first couple of times, but it’s already starting to get old. Meg Ryan is great—it’s not that—but if Ben shows up holding Joe Versus the Volcano or When Harry Met Sally again, Eddie feels like he might have to use his veto card.

He makes it to Bill’s, which is surprising because Eddie spent the whole ride over pretty sure that he and his bike were about to be picked up and carried away by the wind. Eddie leaves his bike in the stack leaned up against Mike’s truck, still undecided as to whether he’d rather watch something picked out by Ben or Bill.

Turns out, Eddie was wrong. It’s Stan’s turn again, and he’s brought The Princess Bride, which is one of those movies that everyone in the world seems to have memorized and Eddie has somehow never seen. Apparently the rest of them haven’t either because Stan is in the middle of lecturing the room at large about classics and being uncultured when Eddie arrives.

“We taped it when it was on TV,” Stan explains, taking it out of a plain black box. The title is written on a sticker affixed to the front of the tape in Stan’s careful handwriting. “It’s a great movie.”

“I love The Princess Bride,” Ben says, walking into the room behind Eddie and flopping onto the couch.

“Hoo boy,” Richie says, settling in on the couch across from Ben and patting the spot next to him, indicating that Eddie should take a seat. “A ringing endorsement from both Stan and Ben? Wake me up when it’s over.”

“Wh-what’s it about?” Bill asks.

“Honestly, it’s insane that none of you have seen it. So, it’s about a girl who’s engaged to a prince,” Stan says. “She was in love with someone else, but he was lost at sea and presumed dead. The prince is trying to start a war with a neighboring kingdom, and he tries to use her as a political tool to incite—”

Richie yawns very loudly and obnoxiously.

“—a confrontation,” Stan continues, even more loudly. “It’s told by a grandfather who’s reading the book to his grandson. The book is very good too, by the way,” Stan adds. “I’ve read it.”

“I don’t think I knew there was a book,” says Ben.

“Oh, you definitely should read it,” Stan replies. “I have it at home, I’ll let you borrow it if you want to stop by my house on the way back.

“You’re letting him borrow your stuff?” Richie says with an exaggerated gasp. “Stan, you might as well announce your engagement now.”

“Ben borrows books from me all the time,” Stan tells him, smoothing out a crease in his shorts. “And unlike some people, he manages not to get gum on—”

“That was once,” Richie interrupts. “That happened one fucking time.”

“—and I learned my lesson about letting you touch my stuff,” Stan finishes. “Or—Ben—I can just bring it to school on Monday and give it to you then.”

The brush-off would carry more weight if Richie wasn’t currently in possession of half of Stan’s comic books. Stan likes to pretend he doesn’t trust Richie, but Eddie knows better. They all do.

“I could take you both over to Stan’s tonight,” Mike suggests.

“Oh really?” says Ben. “That’d be great, thanks Mike!”

“That works out really well actually because then I can give you back The Sun Also Rises,” Stan says to Mike. “I finished it last night, it—”

“Oh, how’d you like it?” Mike asks him.

“What is this, a book club? I wanted to watch Batman,” Richie announces over him to no one in particular, then he turns to Eddie. “I’m sorry, I tried.”

Stan rolls his eyes.

Eddie scoots infinitesimally closer to Richie, who leans down slightly, very casually.

“We still gonna tell them?” he breathes. Eddie nods quickly.

It’s been decided. He’s not backing out again. Today is the day. At some point—Eddie’s not sure what point but he hopes he’ll know the right moment when it arrives—they’re gonna make the announcement that they’re in a relationship to the only two remaining members of the group who aren’t aware of it.

They’re only about fifteen minutes into the movie when Eddie realizes that Stan has Done The Thing again—The Thing he does every time it’s his turn to pick a movie. Despite the fact that Stan has not, to Eddie’s knowledge, ever chosen anything that wasn’t at least pretty good, he is so terrible at describing movie plots that they all continually forget how good the other movies he’s shown them are. It’s a defense mechanism, Eddie thinks, to automatically put up his guard against a movie described as “an eccentric family in upstate New York dealing with the reappearance of an estranged uncle, legal issues regarding a large inheritance, and an accountant embezzling funds to pay off his debts,” even if that movie turns out to be The Addams Family.

The Princess Bride is no different. It’s funny and charming and romantic and Eddie finds himself leaning further and further into Richie as the story goes on, until he’s practically on top of him. They’re all pretty physically affectionate, Eddie thinks, as far as friend groups go, but the way he’s sitting with Richie feels especially couple-y. Richie’s not complaining though, in fact, he’s matching Eddie move for move. Eddie inches closer, Richie spreads his legs so they’re thigh-to-thigh. Eddie bumps his shoulder, Richie rests an arm on the back of the sofa behind him. Eddie sneaks his arm behind Richie on the sofa to wrap around his back, Richie’s hand finds its way into Eddie’s hair.

The only issue he can find with The Princess Bride—and this isn’t really the movie’s fault—is the way Richie’s eyes light up when Mandy Patinkin speaks. By the end, Richie’s mouthing the words along with the character, my name is Inigo Montoya, you killed my father, prepare to die, and Eddie is grappling with the fact that he’s going to for sure be hearing that voice for the rest of his fucking life.

“As you wish,” says the old grandpa on screen, and then the movie ends.

It’s time, Eddie thinks. If there ever was a good time, it’s now. Any second people are going to turn around and see him cuddled up into Richie’s side, Richie’s arm around him, Richie’s hand on his thigh. Ben is next to them and he’s looked over at them and smiled at least a gajillion times over the course of the movie, but he doesn’t count.

“Hey guys?” Eddie says. Bill, Stan and Mike swivel around. A tiny furrow appears in between Bill’s eyebrows as he looks between Eddie and Richie, but he doesn’t say anything. Stan makes eye contact with Eddie and blinks at him expectantly. Mike just smiles at Ben.

“Um…” Eddie clears his throat. “I—we—Richie and I, I guess, just wanted to like, uh...let you guys know…” He glances at Richie for assistance, which he realizes as second too late was the wrong thing to do.

Without hesitation, Richie leans right over and plants a big, sloppy kiss right on Eddie’s lips, tongue and all. Eddie’s intent is to push him off, but his body has unfortunately developed a reflex to kiss back and it takes a second for him to override it.

Eddie eventually manages to shove Richie back far enough to get a look at Stan and Bill’s faces, although Richie responds by basically pulling Eddie all the way into his lap. Bill’s mouth has dropped open slightly and his eyes are very wide, but he doesn’t say anything.

Stan blinks once. “So I guess you guys liked the movie?” he says.

“What the fuck, Stan?” says Richie, knocking into Stan’s arm with his knee. “You promised you’d act surprised.”

“Do I not look surprised?” Stan asks Richie in a monotone, then turns to face Bill. “Bill, did you really not know this was going on?”

Wait, what?!

Bill seems to snap out of his stupor upon being addressed directly. “Um…” he says, “no, I d-d-didn’t. I mean, I th-thought Eddie might be g-g-gay, but…” he shakes his head.

“I am,” says Eddie. “You were right. I’m gay.”

It feels like that should be some kind of enormous statement, but it somehow isn’t. Eddie’s never just said it like that out loud in front of people. He’s practiced it in the mirror at home, very quietly, so his mom wouldn’t hear him, and obviously Richie knows, but even with him Eddie uses phrases like being into guys or being...you know. Richie has referred to him as gay before and Eddie didn’t challenge him, but he figures it’s different to say it for himself. Behind him, Richie makes a noise of outrage.

“Wait—so you assumed I was straight?” Richie demands. “That’s the worst thing anyone has ever thought about me!”

“You sure about that?” mutters Stan.

“How did you not know I was bi?” Richie continues. “It’s not like I try to hide it around you guys. How many times have I said I’d fuck that guy from California Dreaming?”

“Y-you say a lot of things,” Bill points out. “Sometimes it’s hard to t-t-tell when you’re being serious.”

“Which guy in California Dreaming?” Ben asks.

“The main guy,” says Richie.

“Huh,” says Ben, squinting at them. “He kinda looks like Eddie a little bit, actually.”

“Uh yeah, I know,” Richie replies. “That’s why I want to f—”

“So wait,” Eddie says, leaning forward in Richie’s lap, “lemme just… Stan, you did know? How?”

“Uh…” Richie shifts uncomfortably underneath Eddie. Eddie whips around to face him.

“Word of advice,” says Stan, “if you don’t want anyone to find out about stuff like that, maybe try not having your first kiss at a sleepover with four other people in the room.”

“You weren’t asleep?” Eddie asks Stan. He turns to face Richie. “I thought he was asleep!”

“I didn’t tell him,” Richie says to Eddie, holding his hands up. “I swear to God. The next morning—”

“Wait, wait, wait, what?” says Mike. “What sleepover?”

“Oh, remember the one at the end of ninth grade?” Stan says. “We watched...I think it was…um…”

“Dead Poets Society,” Ben supplies.

“That’s the one,” Stan snaps his fingers.

“Ohh,” says Mike, “now I remember. You guys kissed then?”

“Everyone else was asleep,” Stan tells him. “I was trying to sleep too, as a matter of fact.”

“Anyway,” Richie says, over the chaos, “the next morning Stan comes up and he’s like, hey saw you and Eddie making out last night, what’s up with that? and what was I gonna say? No, you didn’t?”

“That is exactly what you said,” says Stan.

“Well, it didn’t work, you were all like, I was three feet away from you, you guys had a whole conversation about kissing and then you started doing it and I was right fucking there. So then I had to just be like, please don’t tell anyone you saw that because I’m not sure if Eddie’s ready for that, you know, and then…”

“...and then here we are, a year later,” Stan finishes. “Bill, you still with us?”

“Yes,” Bill says definitively, once again looking startled to have been spoken to. “S-so...was I the only one who didn’t know?” he asks. He looks a little crestfallen at the thought.

“No,” Eddie assures him. “Well, kind of. I didn’t think anyone knew before like...Wednesday. I told Ben and Mike, and I think Ben told Bev…?” Ben nods, and Eddie continues. “I thought we were telling you and Stan today, but I guess just you. Sorry,” he finishes softly.

“I already knew though,” Ben says. “Before Eddie told me. I sort of figured it out on my own.”

“I only knew Richie liked Eddie,” Mike adds.

“Come to think of it,” Bill says, “I guess I sort of w-w… I sort of wondered if maybe you liked Richie, E-eddie. You guys spend a lot of t-t-time alone together, and…”

“Aw yeah,” Richie says, leaning back. Eddie can’t see it, but he knows exactly what face he’s making. “Getting me some of that Spaghetti-O sauce.”

“And I know all about that,” Stan cuts in. “Eddie, I would literally die for you, but I know things about you that I have never wanted to know about another human being in my life.”

Eddie’s face heats up like a furnace and he turns to glare at Richie, who looks totally one hundred percent not sorry.

“What? I needed to talk to someone about—”

“Brag,” Stan says. “You mean brag to someone.”

“Well you already knew,” Richie reasons. “So, no harm done.”

“Except to my virgin ears, but whatever,” says Stan. But he catches Eddie’s eyes and smiles a little, so Eddie knows he doesn’t really mean any of it.

Bill is smiling too, and he laughs at the look on Eddie’s face, leaning back against Ben’s legs. No one mentions that this conversation doesn’t leave the room—they don’t need to.

Eddie kind of feels like he could use a nap, or possibly a run around the block. He’s both emotionally exhausted and jittery, almost like he’s physically lighter for having his secret out in the open. He sinks back into Richie’s chest.

“W-we could watch something else if—” Bill starts.

“Batman,” Richie cuts in immediately.

“Not Batman,” says Stan.

“I brought When Harry Met—”

“Nope,” Richie says, before Eddie can beat him to it. “Ben, I love you, but fuck no.”

“You guys w-w-work it out,” says Bill, looking over at the bowl in Mike’s lap before standing and picking it up. “I’m going to make some more k-k-kettle corn.”

“Can you bring me a Sprite?” Eddie asks from his perch in Richie’s lap.

“One Sprite, c-c-coming right up,” says Bill. “Anyone else?”

They call out soda orders, disjointed, and Mike offers to help Bill carry it all back out to the living room and it’s all...so ordinary. The wind is blowing like crazy outside, Eddie can see the branches of trees bending and leaves tumbling in the street, but the world can’t get them in Bill’s warm living room. It feels like nothing can.

#it (2017)#reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #stanley uris #bill denbrough #my fics #the greater fool

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