#despite having a manager Eddie always books their rooms and he messes it up every time so Gareth and Eddie are rooming together | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

steddieas-shegoes · 10 months ago

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safe like a pinky promise

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is protection'

rated m | 2,744 words | cw: alcohol, steve is drunk, minor violence (mostly just the threat of violence) | tags: protective eddie munson, protective steve harrington, post breakup, getting back together, exes to lovers

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In hindsight, Steve should’ve been smarter about coming to this bar alone.

He’d only ever been there with Eddie and his friends, and while they weren’t the most popular, people knew not to mess with them or anyone with them. Without their protection, without Eddie’s protection, Steve was kind of asking for trouble.

Especially when he showed up already drunk, causing a scene at the bar in the middle of Corroded Coffin’s set.

He’d been having fun, or trying to, at his house with Robin. But when her parents called and insisted she come home, she left him with a buzz and a loneliness he couldn’t do anything else with.

He missed Eddie. He’d fucked up so bad and now he had to miss Eddie forever. Or maybe not forever. Maybe if he just showed up to support him like he used to, maybe if he bought him a drink and asked to talk, maybe if he kissed him in the bathroom and asked him to come home with him…

The bar was packed, way busier than it ever had been before. Most of the crowd was younger, but definitely older than Eddie and the band. He could see some older guys in the back corner and the regulars at the bar.

The room was spinning as he tried to get eyes on Eddie. He just needed to see Eddie.

Eddie was on stage, the poor lighting doing a shitty job of making him look like the star he was. Steve would need to talk to the owner about that soon. His boy should shine.

Well, he wasn’t really his boy anymore, or ever. That was the problem.

Steve had run. Despite Eddie always insisting that he was a runner, Steve had been the one to book it the moment Eddie wanted things to be more serious.

Even Robin told him it didn’t make sense. Steve was the commitment type, craved permanence from someone in a way that most people their age didn’t even think about.

The moment Eddie offered that to him, he left.

He regretted it every moment since.

Eddie’s voice filled the bar, the drums and guitar of his bandmates loud enough to make the walls shake. It was all Steve could focus on.

He didn’t know how people were having regular conversations right now.

“‘Scuse me!” Steve yelled to the bartender, who was pouring a beer from the tap. “Did you guys not know they were playin’ t’night?”

He could kind of register that he was slurring his words a bit, but couldn’t do anything about it. He hadn’t been drunk in a long time, he forgot the way his head buzzed when he was.

“They play every Tuesday night, son. Why?” The bartender handed the beer

Steve wasn’t usually an asshole, not anymore. If he was, it was unintentional.

But this was about to be very intentional.

“So you just expect them to sing on a dark stage?” He managed to not slur too much that time, wanted to express how serious it was that Eddie wasn’t getting the right treatment. “How’s he sposed to be a rockstar?”

The bartender crossed his arms, unamused at Steve’s questioning.

Steve didn’t care. Eddie deserved better than a half-assed attempt at a bar.

“He’s so good! And you don’t let him be.” Steve wasn’t sure if that made sense, but the bartender seemed to get it.

“Listen, kid. I dunno who served you before you got here, but you’re not gonna cause a scene, alright? Just go get some fresh air and wait for your friend.”

“He should have better lights!”

A man at the bar stood up and took a step towards Steve. “Hey, you heard Ernie. Go get some fresh air before you do somethin’ stupid.”

Steve should probably listen. Robin would tell him to listen.

The bar was suddenly very quiet, the music on stage paused and voices of people nearby so quiet Steve couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Why was he even mad?

He looked over to see Eddie on stage, looking around the room with his eyes squinting.

Right, the lights.

“He’s gonna be famous someday and it won’t be because you helped. Maybe you should buy a-” Steve felt his stomach turn. Shit. “A um.”

The man across from him mistook his stumbling over words and fists as a threat, and before Steve knew it, he was pushed against the wall by the bar.

“You listen here, kid. Don’t know why you showed up already so drunk, but you best leave before this turns into a serious problem. Ernie does these boys a favor lettin’ them play for tips at all. Start causin’ a scene, they won’t be able to come back, ya understand?”

The hand balling up his shirt was large, and the man’s face was red with anger.

Steve never backed down from a fight though.

“If nobody stands up for them, they’ll just keep playin’ for free. This place doesn’t even get people like this unless they’re playing.”

Just as Steve closed his eyes and expected a fist to the face, he was released and fell down against the wall. He looked up to see Eddie, guitar slung over his back, talking to the man who was holding him against the wall.

He couldn’t really hear what they were saying, too distracted by the way Eddie’s curls framed his face. They were always perfectly messy, falling in a way that would probably look terrible on someone else. But it was Eddie, and everything looked good on Eddie.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice brought him back to earth and he suddenly realized the entire band was standing behind Eddie, and all eyes were on them.

“They don’t even know you’re a rockstar, Eds,” Steve whined. “I tried to tell ‘em and they thought I was gonna be a problem.”

Eddie waved the guys away, handing his guitar to Gareth before leaning down to help Steve to his feet. “C’mon. You’re drunk as shit.”

Steve couldn’t really argue with that, and arguing would maybe make Eddie take his hands off of him, so fuck that. Eddie’s hands belonged on him. 2+2 was four and Eddie’s hands should be on Steve.

“Eddie, they don’t even turn the lights on!” Steve fell against his chest, mumbling into his shoulder. “No lights!”

Steve breathed in Eddie’s scent, sweat and body wash mixed up just right to drive Steve crazy.

But Eddie didn’t do it to drive Steve crazy, not anymore. Not since-

“Did you drive here?” Eddie asked, luckily keeping his arm wrapped around Steve as he guided him out the front door.

“No. Walked.” For some reason, he felt chastised, like maybe Eddie was disappointed in him, but he didn’t know what for. Maybe drinking? But Eddie liked to let loose sometimes too. It wouldn’t be fair of him to judge Steve for finally letting go a little.

“You walked? From where?”

“My house.”

“Steve, that’s three miles away.”

“Is it?”

Eddie pulled him to the back of his van, leaning him against the back doors and taking a long look at him.

“Does Robin know you walked here?”

“She isn’t in charge of me, I don’t have to ask for fuckin’ permission-“

“Get in the van.” Eddie tugged him to the passenger door, opening it for him and waiting for Steve to get in. “Do you need help?”

“No. I can do it.”

Which was a lie, and they both knew it, but Steve was not about to admit out loud how little control he had over his own limbs.

It became clear the moment he tried to step up into the van and his foot missed making contact by a solid six inches. He would’ve fallen flat on his face if not for Eddie’s strong arms wrapping around him and lifting him into the passenger seat.

Eddie closed the door and got into the driver’s seat, not even turning the radio on as they drove. They were heading in the direction of the trailer park, not Steve’s house, and Steve tried not to feel smug about it.

“Why did you come tonight?” Eddie finally asked, his knuckles turning white against the steering wheel. “Why are you drunk? And why did I have to rescue you from getting another concussion?”

“I just miss you.”

It was simple. That’s what it all boiled down to.

Steve missed Eddie, missed being able to just show up for him when he wanted, missed playing with his hair when he was asleep because that was the only time he sat still enough for him to do it. He missed the way he kissed the freckle closest to his ear when he was trying to calm him down after a nightmare. He missed making him laugh.

“Steve, you-” Eddie sighed and turned the radio on. “You can sleep it off and I’ll bring you home in the morning.”

“I don’t wanna sleep it off. I don’t want you to ignore me.” Steve crossed his arms, protecting himself from whatever words Eddie would throw at his chest. “I want you to miss me too.”

The turn into the trailer park was silent as Steve’s words surrounded them.

When the van was in park in front of Eddie’s trailer, he turned to Steve.

“I do miss you. I miss us.” Eddie wouldn’t look at him, but Steve could tell he was trying not to cry. “But I can’t talk to you about it until you’ve slept this off, okay? Whatever you’re feeling now might be gone in the morning.”

The adrenaline wearing off was enough for Steve to feel pretty sober, but he could still see double and the van felt like it was still moving under him, so he knew he was too drunk to have the conversation now.

“But in the mornin’?” Steve’s head felt heavy.

He was reaching his least favorite part of being drunk, the exhaustion phase, where every movement felt like it was in slow motion but the world around him was speeding by and his body felt numb. He closed his eyes as he waited for Eddie’s response.

His eyes shot open when he felt Eddie’s finger brush against his pinky.

“In the morning, we’ll talk. Pinky promise,” his pinky wrapped around Steve’s, squeezed, and didn’t let go.

Steve looked down at their joined pinkies, thought about how something so small made him feel so safe, and nodded once.

Eddie helped him inside, one arm around his waist and humming a song Steve vaguely recognized as they walked down the hall to Eddie's room.

“Couch?” Steve asked.

“Don’t want Wayne to wake you up when he gets home.”

Steve was helped out of his shoes and jeans and tucked in on his side of the bed.

He curled up under the blanket, breathing in the scent of Eddie’s shampoo on the pillow.

He drifted off to the warmth coming from Eddie’s side of the bed and the sound of Eddie humming that familiar song.

******

“...need ya to be careful, Ed. He really did a number on ya last time.”

Steve blinked his eyes open as he processed Wayne’s voice on the other side of the door, a voice he hadn’t heard in months. A voice that used to be warm and comforting for Steve from a person who placed his trust in Steve to not hurt his nephew.

“I think I did a number on him, too.”

Steve’s head was pounding, but not in the way of his usual migraines. He hadn’t been hungover in a long time, but he was quickly reminded of why he hadn’t bothered to drink in so long.

“I’m headin’ to bed. Be good to each other.”

Steve heard Wayne’s bedroom door close and Eddie’s door open. He didn’t pretend to be asleep, even though it would have given him at least another few minutes of soaking in this feeling of being Eddie’s before things turned sour. He looked at Eddie, who stood at the edge of his bed, his fingers curling around a loose thread of his blanket.

He was nervous.

He hadn’t been nervous when Steve broke his heart, he’d just been angry.

He hadn’t been nervous when they first kissed, he’d just been ready.

But he was nervous now and Steve knew that meant he needed to lead.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice was rough, more than just the usual morning rasp from disuse. “Can we talk in bed?”

They were known to have nightly talks facing each other in bed, sometimes still sweaty and breathless from sending each other over the edge, the honesty easier when the outside world felt far away.

Eddie must have recognized Steve’s intentions as he got under the blanket, facing him in bed with a nervous smile on his face.

“Hey,” Steve said again, barely more than a whisper.

“Hi.”

“Sorry about last night.” Eddie shrugged, but Steve pushed on. “I shouldn’t have gone to the bar at all. But I definitely shouldn’t have caused problems when I got there. I’m sorry I made a scene.”

“It’s alright, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand was inching closer to Steve’s between them. “Why were you drunk?”

“Robin and I were hanging out and she kept trying to bring up how I haven’t tried going out at all since-” Steve breathed out. “Since I ruined everything with you. And she said if I wasn’t gonna make it right with you, I should at least try to find someone who might make me happy. And I didn’t know who would! It was you for so long and you’re the only person who could make me that happy. So when she left I went from drinking a couple beers to drinking a few shots of the whiskey my dad didn’t take with him. And then I just…missed you.”

Eddie’s hand finally found Steve’s, his fingers curling against the back of his hand.

“I always miss you, but it was worse when I was alone and drinking. I was drunk enough to think walking to the bar was a good idea, which it clearly wasn’t-”

“I dunno about that. You’re in my bed again and that’s not all bad,” Eddie interrupted, a small smile threatening to break out into a much bigger one. “We aren’t doing anything else, but can I kiss you, Stevie?”

“Please,” Steve breathed out.

It had been four months, two weeks, and one day since the last time Eddie kissed Steve.

But this kiss felt like no time had passed at all, like they’d pick up exactly where they left off before Steve ruined it.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Eddie said against his lips, opening his eyes to see what was going on. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I’m just sorry that I let myself ruin what we had.”

“Sweetheart, listen to me.” Eddie cupped his face in his hands, forcing eye contact. “You did screw up. I can’t lie and say you didn’t. You had every chance to talk me through what was going on in your head and work it out in any other way, but you didn’t. That hurt me, but it also hurt you. And I should’ve tried to talk after. I shut you out and didn’t leave much room for you to make it right. That part is on me.”

“It wasn’t up to you to-”

“No, it was up to us and we’re young and stupid and have no idea what we’re doing so of course we’re gonna fuck up. We can love each other and still be stupid sometimes. But maybe next time we won’t forget that we love each other, huh?” Eddie kissed the tip of Steve’s nose. “Do you still have those thoughts?”

“Which ones?”

“The ones telling you that you can’t have someone who makes you feel safe.”

Steve looked at the only person on earth besides Robin who ever made him feel truly loved and protected.

He thought about how his last words to Eddie before last night had been spewed in anger, but were born of pain and mistrust in his own ability to be loved. He thought about how Robin told him the only way to be loved was to just let it happen, even when it was scary.

“I do still have them, yeah.” Steve leaned in to give him a kiss on the lips, soft and slow. “But you’ll protect me, right?”

“Every day, sweetheart.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddielovemonth #cw: alcohol #post breakup #getting back together

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wr1ter-reader-dreamer · 4 years ago

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The Worst Surprise (Pt. 3)

Joker x Reader

Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

Their faces haunted every moment of my life, looming over me and stealing away my sleep. During the day every fiber of my being longed for J. At night, the memory of his betrayal plagued me with nightmares. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get any respite from the torture.

Since becoming his, I hadn’t spent a single day away from J. We both got antsy when we didn’t see each other, so J made sure that he never had to be away for a full twenty four hours. No matter what, he would always come home to me. However, now I had spent a full two weeks away, and my body was not having it. When I laid down for bed, I couldn’t get comfortable. I found myself craving the feeling of his strong arms around me and the relaxing smell of his scent. On the rare occasion that I did manage to fall asleep, Harley’s ridiculously perfect face crept into my mind. The exact details of the nightmares were different, but the endings were always the same. They ended with J harshly rejecting me, choosing to be with her instead, and me jolting awake, tears in my eyes.

Despite how much I hated the nightmares, the time I spent awake was worse. I missed J with every piece of my heart, and I hated it. The asshole had cheated on me, but I still loved him and wanted to be with him. In an attempt to get away from the pain and self hate, I got a job, anything to get me out of the small apartment I was renting. The job was at Barnes & Noble, a place that would have normally brought me comfort, but now did nothing to numb the pain. Still, it gave me something to do and money to live off of. I still had plenty from my Jeep stash, but I knew it wouldn’t last forever. Nothing ever did, apparently not even love.

This morning my alarm woke me up from another nightmare. My head was pounding and my cheeks were stained with tears, but by now I was used to it. Sighing, I rolled over and turned off my alarm. My body protested when I tried to sit up, still exhausted from my fitful sleep. With a large yawn, I reluctantly pulled myself out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. The tile floor was cold against my bare feet, causing me to shiver. Blindly reaching into the shower, I turned the nob all the way to the left, making the water as hot as it could be. While I was waiting for the water to warm up, I scrutinized my appearance in the mirror.

I had changed since I left J, and I didn’t like it. My once bright blue eyes had lost some of their color, and now appeared dull. My long blonde hair fell around me in a tangled mess caused by tossing and turning all night long. I had lost weight because I had a hard time forcing myself to eat. Up until this moment, I had forgotten how self destructive I tended to be. It had been a long time since I didn’t have J making sure that I was taking care of myself.

Absentmindedly wondering how I had survived before him, I bent down to pull a towel out from under the sink. After placing it on a hook next to the shower, I stripped off my clothes and checked the temperature of the water. The water burned my hand, but I didn’t care because that was how I liked it. Stepping into the shower, I positioned myself under the stream of water. I allowed my muscles to relax as the water ran over them.

I stayed in the shower until the water got cold, then stepped out and wrapped the towel around me. Walking out of the bathroom, I headed for my closet. Shifting through my meager amount of clothes, I pulled out one of my work shirts and a pair of dark skinny jeans. Humming softly to myself, I set the clothes on my bed and stepped over to my dresser. I pulled out a black lacy bra and a matching pair of panties. After drying myself off, I slipped my clothes on.

Once I was dressed, I made my way back into the bathroom where I started to apply my makeup. I applied only a light layer of foundation and mascara, wanting to keep it mostly natural as not to draw attention to myself. I then brushed through my hair, which took at least ten minutes. Making a mental note to braid it before I tried to go to sleep tonight, I began pinning my hair up as well as I could. When I had got it to lay as flat as possible, I turned to the wig sitting on the edge of the counter. Sighing, I picked it up and slipped it over my hair. The wig was short and black, the opposite of my natural hair. I had needed to change it, knowing that J would easily recognize me if he ever got close enough, but I hadn’t been able to make myself dye and cut it. So I bought a wig instead and forced myself to go through the long process of securing it every morning.

It was interesting to see how changing something as simple as a person’s hair changed their entire appearance. When I was done securing the wig in place, I was unrecognizable. Nobody who had known me before would be able to tell that it was me if they saw me. I was no longer Azrael. Now I was Evangeline Montgomery, a young woman who moved here looking for an escape from her overbearing family.

When I was done getting ready, I checked my phone for the time. I found that I had just enough time to eat breakfast before I had to leave. Walking to the kitchen, I made a bowl of cereal and sat down on a bar stool at the counter to eat it. The cereal was bland, but I forced myself to finish it, knowing that I needed to eat something. As soon as I was done, I rinsed out my bowl and placed it in the sink. Grabbing my purse and making sure to lock the door on my way out, I left my apartment.

Barnes & Noble was only about a twenty minute walk from my apartment. On the way there, I let the noise of the bustling city distract me from my thoughts. Although I didn’t really like large crowds, I had chosen a big city because they were easier to disappear in. If I had chosen a small town in the middle of nowhere like I would’ve preferred, it would have been easier for J to find me. Plus people tended to like to meddle in each other’s business in small towns which was something I didn’t need.

Arriving at work, I found Kara, one of my coworkers and my only friend in this city, opening up the store.

“Hey Kara,” I said, causing the girl to jump and drop the keys. I laughed lightly as she turned around and stuck her tongue out at me.

“Thanks for the scare, Eva, I’ll remember that the next time you’re wondering around the shelves,” she said, smiling at me and bending down to pick up the keys. She then preceded to unlock the doors and make her way inside.

Kara was the only bright spot in my days. She was a kind but sarcastic girl, and the only one of my coworkers who bothered to try to get to know me. We had become friends after our first conversation, bonding over our mutual love of Eddie Redmayne. She was the only person, besides my boss of course, who I had given my number to, and I was honestly grateful to have met her.

“So, did you get anymore sleep last night?” she asked, beginning to prep the store for customers.

I slid my hands into my pockets as I followed her, “No, I had another nightmare.”

She looked up at me and frowned, “Honey, that’s every night this week.”

I just shrugged. Kara had managed to pull some of the truth about my situation out of me when we were at lunch one day. I had reluctantly spilled that I missed an ex boyfriend who cheated on me and that it was causing me to loose sleep. Since then, she had fretted over me like a concerned mom.

“I know what you need,” she said suddenly, looking up from the cash register that she had been in the process of turning on.

I raised an eyebrow, “And what’s that?”

“You need a night out at the club with me and some of my friends,’ she grinned, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

I immediately shook my head, “No, Kara, I don’t have the energy to go out.”

Kara just rolled her eyes, “Mark my words, Evangeline, I will convince you to come, and you will enjoy yourself.”

Smiling at my friend, I shook my head again and made my way to the back of the store. After placing my purse in the break room, I began pulling new books out of their boxes and putting them on the shelves. Before too long, I had lost myself in the mindless labor of stocking shelves.

I spent the rest of the day organizing books and helping customers. Every time Kara and would pass by me, she would add another reason to why I should go out with her tonight. After about an hour of hearing her plead and bargain, I decided that I would go. It would be nice to get to dance again, and I didn’t really have a reason not to go. It’s not like I had anything waiting for me at the apartment.

Even though I had decided to go, I didn’t tell Kara. It was funny to watch her get frustrated with me and walk off muttering to herself, so I continued to make her think that I wouldn’t go. Sometimes I was a little cruel, but I knew that she wouldn’t hold it against me. At the end of both of our shifts, I found her in the break room.

I grabbed my purse and turned to my friend, smiling at her, “Ok, Kara, I’ll go with you tonight.”

She immediately turned to face me, squealing and grabbing my hands, “Yay! We’re gonna have so much fun!”

Kara dragged me back to her apartment, saying that we could hang out there before it was time to go to the club. We spent the rest of the day relaxing and watching movies that we both loved. For the first time in weeks, I laughed so hard that my sides hurt. It felt good to just hang out and have a girls’ day, something that I hadn’t had in over a year.

At about nine, Kara decided that it was time to get ready. She dragged me to her room, pushing me towards her bed as she went to her closet. I watched as she flitted through her clothes, trying to find something she deemed worthy for me to wear.

“Here, this is perfect,” she finally said, shoving some clothes in my arms and pushing me towards her bathroom.

After stripping out of my work clothes, I slipped the outfit on and looked in the mirror. I smiled at what I saw, immediately deciding that I loved what I was wearing. The outfit consisted of a pair of high waisted shorts and a shirt. The shorts were a glittery gold with silver zippers on the pockets. They fit me perfectly, showing off my legs nicely. Kara had paired the shorts with a simple black, long-sleeved crop top. Looking in the mirror, I had to admit that I looked good.

When I emerged from the bathroom, I found that Kara had slipped into a sexy red dress that looked amazing on her. She grinned when she saw me, holding out a pair of black thigh high heels for me to put on. I clumsily put them on as she slipped into a pair of black stilettos. Taking a look at myself in her full body mirror, I decided that my makeup needed to be more dramatic.

Kara instantly agreed when I suggested it, leading me into her bathroom where she kept her makeup. She handed me some gold eyeshadow and black eyeliner, saying, “The more dramatic, the better.”

As I applied my makeup and she curled her hair, we continued to talk and laugh. I found that it was super easy to be around Kara, and I was starting to believe that I could make it without J. He wasn’t the only person in the world who could lift my spirits.

We were about to walk out the door, both all dressed up and ready to go, when Kara stopped me. She told me to wait at the front door as she scurried back to her room to get something. Shaking my head at her forgetfulness, I grabbed my purse off her couch and went to stand by the front door. She was grinning when she came back, hiding something behind her back.

“This is for you, to complete your outfit,” she said, bringing her hand to the front and revealing a beautiful gold necklace.

I smiled at her gratefully, taking it and fastening it around my neck. With that we were finally ready to leave, and we made our way downstairs and out of her building. Once on the street, Kara hailed a cab.

“So what’s the plan?” I asked as one pulled up in front of us.

“We’re going to meet a few of my friends at The King,” she answered, opening the door and sliding into the cab.

My mind immediately went to J, my King. I thought about how this outfit would have made him purr, and God I loved it when he purred. This is the kind of outfit that would’ve made him keep me close to his side, not wanting anyone to have the chance to get too handsy. It was definitely the kind of outfit that he wouldn’t let me leave the house alone in.

It didn’t take long to get to the club. The building was packed, a long line spilling out of the large black doors and around the corner. As Kara paid the cabbie, I took a chance to look up at the club. It wasn’t as nice as J’s, but it was definitely a nice place. ‘The King’ was lit up in large glittery-gold letters above the doors. The building looked new, and I had a feeling that the interior would be quite modern.

I followed Kara to the door when she was done with the cabbie. The bouncer seemed to recognize her and immediately let us both in, much to the chagrin of the couple at the front of the line. Making a mental note to ask her about it later, I followed her through the club. The music was pounding, the bass pounding through me and helping me to relax. I was right about the interior being modern, but I was surprised to see how simplistic it was. With a name like ‘The King’, I had expected it to be overly lavish.

Kara and I pushed our way through the crowd, making our way to the back of the club. We made it to a wall lined with leather booths and high topped tables. Kara stopped for a moment, seeming to be looking for someone, before heading towards a booth in the corner of the room. Sitting at the booth were two men and a woman.

“Kara!” the woman squealed above the music, standing up and pulling my friend into a hug.

“Amara,” Kara said when she pulled away, “I’d like you to meet Eva.”

I smiled at the stunning platinum blonde, giving her a small wave.

Amara smiled at me, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eva. I’m Amara and this is my boyfriend, Nico.”

She slid back into the booth, wrapping her arm around the man who had been sitting next to her. Her boyfriend, Nico, nodded at me, and I gave him a small wave. Nico was a massive block of pure muscle, dwarfing the petite woman who was nuzzled up against him. Despite his huge size, he was handsome with his black hair and brown eyes.

“Hey Kara, aren’t you gonna introduce your friend to me?” a voice called, instantly pulling my attention towards the man sitting next to Nico. He smirked and winked at me, causing a light blush to bloom across my cheeks.

Kara rolled her eyes, “Eva, this is Amara’s obnoxious brother, James.”

James grinned at me, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Eva.”

I gave him a small smile, “It’s nice to meet you too. It’s nice to meet all of you.”

Seeing that we all seemed to be getting along, Kara smiled and slid into the booth next to Amara. This left me to slide in next to James, who seemed all to happy to have me next to him. We all talked for a while, laughing and getting along like we had known each other for years. I found myself enjoying all of their company, so when James asked me to dance, I agreed.

Standing up from the booth, I allowed James to take my hand and lead me to the dance floor. It was extremely crowded, but we managed to find enough space on the edge for the two of us. My back pressed up against James’ front, I began to move my hips to the music. It took only moments for me to completely loose myself in the heavy bass. Forgetting all of my troubles, I felt a sense of euphoria wash over me as I swayed and grinded against James to the beat. Here, dancing at the club, it was easy to forget what had happened just a few weeks ago.

After hours of alternating dancing with James and dancing with the girls, I decided that it was time for me to go home. Saying my goodbyes, I gave Kara a hug and promised Amara that we would hang out again. As I left the club, I noticed that the line outside had disappeared, everyone either getting inside or moving on to another club. It was easy enough to hail a cab, and I gratefully slid into the seat. I gave the driver my address and closed my eyes as he pulled out onto the street.

It took about twenty minutes to get from The King back to my apartment. I had to fight to stay awake as we bumped along the road, my body absolutely exhausted. Grinning, I realized that tonight I would finally be able sleep without nightmares.

The cab pulled to a stop outside my apartment building, and I slowly got out. I paid the driver, then blindly made my way upstairs. Yawning as I approached my door, I dug around in my purse for my keys. I finally found them and pulled them out, slipping them into the door only to realize that it wasn’t locked. Frowning, my body immediately went on high alert. I never forgot to lock my door and this morning was not the exception.

Pulling my gun out of my purse, I slowly pushed open my door. I cautiously entered my apartment, finding the lights already on. After finding nothing out of place in the living room and kitchen, I made my way down the short hallway to my bedroom. I kept the gun raised in front of me as I slowly walked to my room, listening carefully to see if I could hear anyone.

When I reached my bedroom door, I found that it was only partially open. I slowly pushed it open the rest of the way, but paused before entering. Taking a deep breath and steeling myself against whatever I might find, I swung into the doorway. Aiming my gun straight at the figure sitting on my bed, I almost screamed.

The figure on my bed grinned, “Azrael, so nice of you to finally come home.”

#jared leto!joker #jared leto!joker x reader #joker #joker x reader #x reader #x y/n #reader insert #y/n #fanfiction #jared leto x reader #jared leto #part 3 #angst #joker x reader angst #the worst surprise

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thoughtfullyyoungduck · 5 years ago

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It’s not scary when it’s with you

Warning: this story depicts domestic physical and mental abuse (not between Eddie and Richie though), so please don’t read this if you’re not comfortable with that.

Summary: Can you write a fic where instead of marrying a woman, Eddie marries a man who looks like richie, but who behaves just like Beverly's husband? I've been thinking about it a lot

A/N: I hope this is what you wanted anon, let me know what you think. Also I would just like to say that this is partially how I experienced some abuse, but I know that not everyone does in the same way so I just wanted to say.

Sometimes, whenever Richie is gone off to do a show or get groceries, Eddie likes to think back to his past. Well, likes is a wrong word, but sometimes when Eddie can’t help but feel like he’s not doing as much as he can, like he’s not brave enough, and then it helps to think back of the place he started.

To the person he was before getting back to Derry, and getting all his friends back, so he can see the true progress he has made.

He’s having another one of his moments, where he is toying with the edge of the blanket of his bed while staring into an empty space full off nothing, the thoughts in his mind gathering themselves ready to take him through the entire mess that he once called his life. Like usual, Eddie’s not trying to stop it from happening, he’s learned from experience that that only causes the flashbacks to more violent.

Even years later, Eddie still can’t figure out how he let himself get roped into the relationship the way he did. After suffering through all the abuse his mother put him through, he ran straight into another sort of abuse.

When he met Chris the very first day he started working at the insurance company, he wasn’t even hiding that he was kind off an asshole. He was brushing off some poor intern when he tried to hand him the wrong coffee, and Eddie was sure that he was getting more mad and mad by the second, but then he stopped as soon as he saw Eddie. He was just so fucking charming, and when he never let that side of him out again, Eddie assumed that he had a bad day, and it was a onetime occurrence.

It wasn’t, and he got a lot worse than Eddie had seen that day.

It didn’t start out with physical abuse at first either, no instead, he used mental tactics to begin with. Eddie has no idea how he could have been so stupid to walk into the same trap that his mother had spun around him before, but alas, it happened and there was no use thinking about the what if’s. He had actually been really proud of himself for daring to go into a relationship with a man, even though his mother disowned him and refused to see after he came clean about it.

He was foolish enough to think that escaping one abuse was enough for him to be happy, but he was proven wrong faster than he hit the water after jumping of the quarry cliff back in Derry, back when he was still a kid.

Chris and Eddie celebrated his mother exiting his life with champagne and strawberry’s, and Eddie will always connect those two things to new beginnings, for the next day the mental torment began.

Chris liked to critize everything Eddie did, even complaining about the way he would clean the house, despite knowing about how germophobic Eddie truly was, and seeing firsthand how meticulous Eddie scrubbed the entire place. He found it funny to place dirt in places that Eddie had just cleaned to a T, going as far as placing a dead rat in the bathtub when he knew Eddie was going to use it right after.

Eddie had shrieked loudly, sending him straight into another ‘asthma attack’ while locking himself in his bedroom out of pure fright. If only the memories of Derry had still been with him, he would have realized that there were worse things to be afraid of. Like IT, or Chris for example.

Eddie couldn’t even explain why that scared him so much, or how hurt he felt by the ‘prank’, because when he tried to, Chris devalued his feelings, telling Eddie to stop being such a baby, and that he was overreacting.

He should have left after that, but he was young and stupid and he didn’t have any real friends, only his coworkers at the office who were also friends with Chris, so they weren’t an option anyhow. He didn’t even have his mother at that point either, not that that was a better alternative at the time regardless.

The longer he stayed with Chris, the more he was being brainwashed into believing that he was really blowing things out of proportions, and that he should listen to whatever Chris told him, since he could do everything better himself apparently.

He would complain about every small thing, and after a while Eddie got so tired of hearing what he constantly did wrong, that he decided to try and adjust himself as best he could to fit Chris standards.

He figured Chris was right, since all he had ever heard in his life was how delicate he was, and how he needed his mom to help him with everything, which was what Chris also told him all the time. He was always told that whatever he wanted to do was wrong, he was too vulnerable for it, and the judgment of both of his mother and Chris displayed just came out of place of love.

Eddie wouldn’t be Eddie however, if he didn’t get random burst of bravery mixed in with determination coming from seemingly nowhere.

At times, he would shoot back defenses at Chris, when he was fed up with constantly being criticized, despite knowing that would only piss him off. That was when Chris hit him for the very first time.

Eddie had only dropped a plate, but when Chris started yelling at him like he set the house on fire, Eddie screamed back. He called Chris a know-it-all, who did nothing but harass him all day, and that if he could do it better he should just do it himself.

Chris saw red, looking much like he had a sunburn, and his pupils had dilated so much the green had disappeared, leaving nothing but black in it’s wake. Eddie knew he was in trouble then.

The world seemed to crash to a stop the second his palm hit the left side of Eddie’s face, leaving an angry red mark in it’s wake that tingled for days afterwards.

Eddie laughed it off to his colleagues, claiming that he had fallen unto the side of his kitchen table at home, but he didn’t know how much of them actually believed him. It’s not like it mattered anyway, none of them cared enough to look further into it.

The hotel room had been booked faster than Chris could utter an apology, with Eddie rushing to grab a few clothes that he had stashed up in a suitcase he always had on hand for when he needed to go on a last minute work trip, nearly actually falling down when he speeded towards his car.

His act of defiance hadn’t lasted long. The thing was that Eddie had been stuck without anyway to escape his boyfriend. Which was as good of an excuse as any other, but it was still true.

Chris worked as his supervisor, so wherever Eddie went to work, Chris was there too. Even Eddie’s bathroom breaks shortened at Chris’s request, and when Eddie managed to excuse himself and go, Chris coincidently happened to be there as well when he exited the bathroom stall.

It got so bad that Eddie took a few days of work, but he was in no position to stay home, or more correctly his hotel room, then a few days, since he really needed the money.

A new job had been whipped of the table too, since they would certainly call the last place Eddie worked at, and then they would be confronted by Chris, who without doubt had no problem with lying and twisting things to make Eddie look like the bad person.

And then there was the emotional manipulation. He would buy Eddie so many expensive things, even though Eddie never asked for that, to gain his gratitude. That way, whenever he hit Eddie, or if Eddie tried to shake Chris’s words off him and didn’t listen to him, Chris could remind him of all the thing he bought for him, and make Eddie feel guilty that he was being so rude to Chris in the first place.

After five days, Eddie moved back in with Chris, continuing the cycle of mistreatment. He didn’t hurt Eddie physically often, but the threat of it hung over Eddie’s head at every moment like a thundercloud, scaring him enough to stay quiet and listen to everything Christ said to him.

Chris was visibly delighted in the way he could say anything to Eddie and get away with it, using that to his advantages at any time. The only thing Chris never did was call Eddie ‘Eds.’. For some reason, whenever Chris would call him that, he would get so irrationally mad, that Chris was worried he was losing his control over him, so he never used ‘Eds’ ever again.

It wasn’t ‘till two years later, while having dinner with the losers for the first time in 27 years, that Eddie would remember why he hated it so much when it came from Chris.

Sometimes, Eddie would grab a pillow and smashed it to the floor a few times, imagining that it was actually Chris himself. He would gain some sense of defiantment, and he would tell himself that the last day of Chris tyranny had passed. However, by the time Chris would get home and laid one hard look on Eddie, he crumbled like a sand cookie.

The day he married Chris, was arguably the worst day of his life, even worse than the day he had to go into the sewers to save Beverly, or the day he left Derry and left his friends behind too. The Party went on till one a.m. the next day, but Eddie had spend most of the night tending to his injured foot, which Chris had repeatedly stamped upon after Eddie accidently stepped on his while dancing.

Eddie couldn’t have thought of anything he wanted to do less than get married to Chris, but he was scared of the things he was capable off, so he didn’t see any other available answer than yes when Chris inevitably popped the question.

He likes to think that if he had remembered his friends, if he had recalled the summer where he threw away his placebo medicine, then he wouldn’t have gotten in a relationship with him. It’s wishful thinking, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t roam his mind on the daily.

When Mike called him, he had felt something he had not experienced in a long time. A feeling of white hot anger stabbed him straight in the abdomen and spread throughout his entire body like a virus.

At once, he recalled so many new memories that had been locked away in the deepest part of his brain and were now unlocking themselves, sliding back into places Eddie didn’t even know things were missing.

The recollections were still vague, things like names or particular faces not having shown themselves yet, but he did know one thing, and that was that he had survived something so out of this world that he was sure it was the devil on earth, and he had fucking beaten him.

He stood tall against a monster, what kind he was still unaware off, and he was done getting pushed over by every single person in his life, that ship had sailed.

He agreed with Mike to return to Derry as fast as possible, quickly assembling the same suitcase he used to go to a hotel the first time Chris had laid a hand on him, before turning towards the stairs to run out.

However, when he did, Chris was standing in the door opening eying Eddie with as much rage as toddler did whenever their mother wouldn’t give them the candy they had asked for and they were about to throw a tantrum.

He was sporting a wicked smile on his face too, as if just the thought of Eddie leaving him was too ridiculous to even consider.

Eddie gripped his handbag firm, glancing back and forth between the door and Chris to find the fastest way to get out. He had hoped to get out without Chris noticing, but that was clearly out of the question.

When he tried to however, he was gripped tightly by the arm, forced by him to drop the bag and walk backwards to stop the pain. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Chris had asked him in that tone he got when he was about to explode on Eddie, the one that told Eddie he should think very hard about what his next words would be.

Eddie can’t remember in detail what happened after that. He got out of the house in hurry, leaving with nothing expect the luggage he already had at his disposal, and his passport and phone. He knows that at some point Chris’s fist hit him in the stomach, for there was a bruise to show for it, but it’s not as bad as it could have been, luckily.

Eddie had thrown his ring at Chris, yelling that he wanted a divorce, and when he later sat in his car calming down a bit, he was surprised he had managed to do that.

It was like his entire being had been focused on letting out all the anger and the hurt he had experienced over the years, and he was besides himself. He panicked at first, because he had absolutely nowhere to go, he didn’t remember the losers yet at that point, until he snapped out of it and tried to focus on the task at hand, which had been to drive to Derry. It had not been easy, and it wasn’t up until IT tried to kill him and the losers, that it really slipped his mind.

It was Richie that brought it up again, after they had defeated IT in it’s lair and they shared a attentive kiss outside with the sun shining upon then while the house collapsed a few meters away from them.

The slime stuck to them like glue even when Eddie tried to wipe it off, so Eddie refused to make the kiss last long, insisting that they needed to get clean first before doing it again. He watched Richie’s face go from somber, at Eddie’s first words, to absolutely ecstatic in two seconds flat.

They skipped the quarry, opting to go get clean in Richie’s bathroom, considering Bowers blood was all over Eddie’s, and spent some time just between the two of them. When Eddie unknowingly pulled of his shirt, Richie had gasped, staring at the dark blue bruise that had formed on the place Chris’s fist had landed.

Up until that point, Eddie had done a good job hiding what happened after he left Derry, and the years of assault he suffered from, but now the cat was out of the bag and Eddie was so tired of having to hide his emotions from people, that he promptly bursted into tears.

Richie, the sweetheart that he is, even if Eddie will never say that to his face, had rushed to his side immediately, doing everything he could to stop Eddie from crying, pulling him as close as possible but still so that he wouldn’t hurt Eddie.

With his lips pressed to Eddie’s forehead, rocking them gently back and forth, he began whispering reassurances, varying from how he would never hurt Eddie, to how he would make sure never else ever could. He later took it upon himself to tend to Eddie’s wound every night until it was healed, showing the soft and patient side of him mostly Eddie got to see.

Richie remained as loving as he did the first week he and Eddie got together. People often said that couples lose their romantic side the longer they are seeing each other , but the opposite was true for Richie and him.

He still woke up at least once a week to Richie bringing him breakfast in bed, or when he forget his lunch at the new job he worked at and Richie would prepare him a lunch and bring it to him shamelessly walking through the office.

One of his coworkers joked that Richie was like a lapdog, and he was ready to do anything for Eddie like a dog would do anything to catch a ball that was thrown. Richie proudly proclaimed this to be the truth.

‘Hey Eds?’ A voice suddenly pulls him out of his thoughts, Eddie turning around to see Richie carrying a coffee in his one hand, and a tea in the other.

Contrary to Eddie, Richie absolutely hates coffee, and he limited Eddie’s intake to one a day, since Eddie had a reputation of going a little overboard with it. If he drinks too much off the warm beverage he tends to get hyperactive to the point where he is running around like he’s a twenty-year old college student, and his hyperactive mind cannot keep up with everything that’s happening.

And that, that stupid little thing is what caused Eddie to truly realize how in love with Richie he really was. He obviously knew that he loved Richie, and he wanted to live with him or else he would be somewhere else right now, but the fact that Richie actually cared about his wellbeing, that small sign of caring someone in a way that is healthy, made Eddie understand what it felt like to be truly loved.

Richie smiles gently at him, placing the two cups at the edge of the coffee table where Richie sometimes writes his material on, stepping forward slowly and with careful steps. He not scared of scaring Eddie finally, but even that took a long time, and he still doesn’t want to risk it.

At first, Richie flat out refused to bicker with him the way that they always did. Eddie can recall every single word of his speech in great detail.

‘Listen, Eds. I just got this with you, this whole relationship thing, and I don’t want to lose that. I love you, and I’m not too keen on things changing between us either, but the last thing I ever plan on doing is hurting you or scaring you and I don’t know when you find our bickering funny and when you’re genuinely scared. Until I do, I’m not going to bicker with you at all. You’re just going to have to survive without your mom jokes for a while. A shit okay, I’m going to stop bickering with you starting now.’

It was all meant lovingly, even Eddie knew that, but Richie glossed over the fact that Eddie wanted nothing more but to feel normal with someone. He was treated as a kid all his life, and now that he finally managed to break free from everything holding him back in life, for real this time, he was going to remain as hardheaded as he wants to be. And he wanted their interaction to include as much bickering as he damn well pleased.

He told Richie as much, who had then considered his feelings, and slowly reintroduced their bickering comments like they had never really left.

‘Oh fuck off asshole. Be a man and be convinced you’re right so I can prove to you how wrong you really are.’

With cautions. If Richie so much as saw what he thought might be a flinch, he dropped everything and let the subject die down along with their bickering.

Eddie’s path to healing had been anything but easy of course, and Richie wasn’t wrong, sometimes Eddie would get frightened over nothing, and he would be so disappointed at himself at those times.

Back at the Jade The Orient, when the losers talked about marriage, and Eddie had refused to say disclaim anything about his, Richie yelled ‘fuck you’ loudly, and it didn’t scare Eddie at all. He knows that Richie is not like that, that Richie is one big goofball who literally couldn’t hurt a fly. The insults he throws at Eddie are filled with poorly concealed affection, and the way he absolutely glows when he makes Eddie laugh makes the day appear a tad brighter.

Still, sometimes Richie will make a joke about fucking his mom, and Eddie would respond with the most fiery response he could come up with on the spot, he’ll freeze and wait for the hurt that he knows Richie won’t fire, but he still expects none the less. At those times Richie will give Eddie some space if he needs it, and if he doesn’t, he spends the whole night whispering to Eddie how much he loves him, and how brave he is.

Progress isn’t linear, but it still sucks sometimes.

Richie knows the signs of a ‘bad head day’, he calls them, where Eddie’s head fills up with bad memories and insecurities he tries to get rid of but most of the time can’t. When Eddie has days like this, Richie proceeds with caution, not wanting to make a sudden move and send Eddie even further into his head, even though Eddie always feels a bit better after laying eyes on Richie.

‘How are you doing? Can I help?’

Richie sits next to him on the bed, unclenching Eddie’s fist from the bedsheets and clutching them in his own, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. Eddie shakes his head while looking over at Richie, since there really isn’t anything that he can do, and the moments are not as bad as they used to be anyway.

He places his head on one of Richie’s broad shoulders, using it to pillow his head and letting out a content sigh. An arm is placed behind his back, Richie’s arm twisting as best it can to rub into the lower area, the place Eddie complains about having pain the most.

‘You know, the last time I did this with someone was with your mom.’

Eddie laughed, his entire frame shaking with it as he lightly shoved him with his shoulder. It makes Richie happy, to know that Eddie is comfortable enough around him to be able to do that without flinching afterwards. He’s so

‘Brave, you’re brave Eds. The bravest man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting.’

He noses at the top of Eddie’s head, happy that he’s there and that Richie can help him in whatever way he can.

‘Shut up’, Eddie complains, but he can’t help the pride fizzling over him at the words.

‘No it’s true. I mean who can say they survived a killer clown, a horrible mother, and a piece of shit and still didn’t let any of it bother him?’

‘Me I guess.’

‘Not you guess, you know.’

His body bent in an awkward position to do so, Richie places a kiss atop his nose, joyful when it pulls a giggle out of Eddie.

‘I don’t want to think about that. All that matters is that we’re here, and we’re together. You’re the best part of my life Rich. I hope you know that. With you, I realize that I don’t have to be scared anymore.’

To hide the tears burning in his eyes wanting to come out, Richie presses Eddie a little closer, slotting their lips together in a passionate kiss. Eddie’s lips were soft and warm, reciprocating with as much enthusiasm as he was receiving, the both of them poring their heart and soul into it. When Richie pulls away, he presses Eddie a little closer to his chest, nearly missing what Eddie says next.

‘And I also hope that you know that if you ever tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it to my dying breath.’

‘oh, I’m counting on it.’

#domestic abuse #reddie #reddie imagine #My writing #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrack #eddie kaspbrak imagine #richie tozier imagine #it chapter two imagine

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inawickedlittletown · 5 years ago

Text

Puzzle Pieces (one-shot)

Summary: Valentine’s Day goes wrong - Buddietines Week Day 5.

Surprised by Eddie asking what he’s doing for Valentine’s Day, Buck doesn’t expect it to be because Eddie has a date and needs someone to watch Christopher.

Ship: Buck/Eddie

Words: 5,146

Notes: Happy Valentine’s Day!

This fic was sort of supposed to fit the blind date prompt but since the blind date wasn’t buddie, I liked the idea of it fitting in with the Valentine’s Day goes wrong prompt instead. At the time when I was writing this I also only intended to write one Valentine’s Day fic and figured that posting on actual Valentine’s Day felt right. (I have now written fics to fic the budditines prompts for Saturday and Sunday so...) Anyway, enjoy.

Read on Ao3

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Valentine’s Day was coming up. It had been coming up since the beginning of the year since apparently every store he stepped foot into went from Christmas things to Valentine’s Day things practically overnight. It was all really ridiculous. The last time that Buck celebrated Valentine’s Day was with Abby on what could probably be described as the worst date that he’d ever been on. He’d ended up at the hospital. Because that was how most things tended to end for Buck.

Maddie was excited for this one, though. She and Chimney were doing really well. Buck was happy for the two of them. They both absolutely deserved each other in the best way possible and Buck was happy that they were excited for the holiday.

Hen was planning something for Karen that she was excited about. Buck liked seeing Hen looking happier. After everything with the IVF not going well and then the incident with the ambulance, Buck was glad to see that they were doing a lot better.

Even Bobby had plans for some sort of romantic getaway with Athena.

The only one that didn’t seem thrilled or interested in Valentine’s Day was Eddie. But then, Eddie had lost his wife not even a year ago that the holiday meant for lovers really wasn’t going to do much to interest him.

Buck for his part had plans to stay home and watch something action packed or maybe more cooking shows and his heart would be safe in the knowledge that Eddie wasn’t out on a date or getting someone chocolate and flowers but that he was probably with Christopher. A part of him was even considering asking Eddie if he could join him and Christopher for the night. They could do video games or movies and junk food that they shouldn’t really be eating. It would be fun.

So, when February 14th was a week away, the last thing Buck expected was for Eddie to nudge his shoulder when they were leaving the locker room.

“What’s up?”

“So, I have a favor to ask,” Eddie said.

“Sure, man. Anything.”

Eddie nodded. “I just wanted to know if you were doing anything on the 14th?”

Buck felt like his heart stopped. “Uh. Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah, Buck.”

“Uh. No. No plans.” Buck didn’t know what to think. His mind was reeling with possibilities, scenario after scenario popping into his head while he waited for Eddie to continue because he couldn’t believe that Eddie was asking him about Valentine’s day almost like he was gearing up to ask Buck out and...and Buck hadn’t even considered the possibility that Eddie might see him that way.

“Oh. Good. Good. It’s just I needed someone to watch Christopher. I don’t want to bother Carla when she has plans with her husband and Abuela is out of town and I actually kind of figured you’d be busy but since you’re not then—”

Eddie was rambling but Buck barely heard any of it because his disappointment drowned it out. Eddie had plans. He had plans with someone and he needed Buck to watch his son. That’s what Buck was good for. And it was fine. It was absolutely fine. It was just that for a small moment Buck had thought that it was something else and that Eddie wanted something else. But no, he just wanted a babysitter. And really, Buck, was pretty sure that Eddie was straight. He really had to stop letting himself get his hopes up. It would only lead to a broken heart.

“Well you can let Christopher know that he has a date,” Buck said and he plastered on a smile.

Eddie was grinning. He bumped Buck’s shoulder. “Thanks, Buck. You’re the best.”

“No problem,” Buck said and it wasn’t. He loved getting to spend time with Christopher. He just...on Valentine’s Day he may have wanted to spend time with Eddie more. Except that it was clear that Eddie just didn’t want to spend it with Buck.

Eddie didn’t tell him about his date or about his plans for Valentine’s Day and Buck didn’t ask. He didn’t want to know. It was easier to not know because then he could pretend that it was fine and that it would be just another ordinary day watching Christopher. One of Buck’s favorite things to do. He loved that kid so much.

Except that then, when Eddie arrived at his apartment to drop off Christopher, he was dressed like he was going on a date and Buck stood a bit floored by the door and only came out of his stupor when Christopher wrapped his arms around his middle.

“Hi, Buck.”

“Hey, kid,” Buck said and then ushered him inside. “Come on, we have a lot to do tonight. Go get set up on the couch. I’ll be right there.”

Eddie had stepped inside too and the door was closed behind him.

“There’s coloring books in his backpack and a few toys. It really shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours. Thanks a lot, Buck. I owe you one.”

Eddie ran over to hug and kiss Chris and then he was on his way before Buck could say anything else.

—-

Eddie had three sisters. Two older and one younger. They were all the most annoying, nosy people that he had ever known. Abuela had always called them “metidas” and “chismosas” and Eddie had always thought that it was funny until he found himself the subject of their nosiness and meddling.

[nosy and gossips]

It had started all the way back when Shannon left him and Christopher. His oldest sister, Julia, had been the one to start hinting at him moving on. Then, the second oldest, Viviana, had actually gone and made him a dating profile set to interested in men and women. His younger sister, Emilia, had started chatting up people for him as him on the dating profile. The whole thing was one giant mess. And once he found out and shut it down, they stopped mentioning him moving on for a while until they started just talking to their friends or friends of friends about him and that was somehow worse especially when he happened to run into them and they were all practically throwing themselves at him even in front of Christopher.

Eddie would be lying if moving to California hadn’t been a little in part to get away from his sisters. There were other factors too, of course. The fire department was one, and the second Shannon.

That was the thing that his sisters had never understood. She left him...but it didn’t stop him from loving her and from not wanting to move on. Even when he hated her too. And maybe even when she didn’t even want him. It was complicated in a way that they didn’t want to understand.

The thing was that his family never liked Shannon. It was lowkey dislike, but it was dislike nonetheless and then it had become full on dislike after she took off, Eddie couldn’t blame them.

When he first contacted Shannon once it was clear he needed her for Christopher’s school, he didn’t tell anyone in the family but his Abuela. It was just easier. Better. He also, absolutely didn’t tell them about Buck.

Eddie had never met anyone like Buck. He was one of the kindest, most selfless people that he knew. Someone that was loyal to a fault and that Eddie was very glad to have in his corner. He was also stupidly attractive and despite the initial animosity, Buck caught Eddie’s eye from the very first moment he saw him. Buck took his breath away. Buck was also very very much not an option and hadn’t been right from the start. And then, things had gotten complicated with Shannon and then Buck was injured and suing the department and it felt like too many things had happened for anything to spark between them even though sometimes, Eddie could swear that Buck’s eyes lingered on him for just a tad too long.

It was hard not to have a huge and glaring crush on Buck when Buck took care of Christopher and went out of his way to make sure that Christopher was happy. Buck was easy to love.

And it was entirely a mistake when Eddie told Viviana that he had a crush on a straight man.

“Which means, you’re ready to date again! Oh, Eddie, we’ve been waiting for this. And just in time for Valentine’s day.”

That was how Eddie wound up with an arranged blind date. His sisters had told him nothing. Not a name, not the gender, not even personality traits. Just that he had a date for Valentine’s Day and that he better not even consider cancelling or not showing up.

“Because it’s rude, Eddie,” Emilia had said over the phone. “That’s why you can’t just stand them up. Be a man. It’s a date, we’re not asking you to go off and marry them. You’ve done that already and look how it turned out.”

So maybe he and Shannon hadn’t dated long before they got married — prompted by her pregnancy — but it wasn’t the reason that they hadn’t ended up working. Things may have gone fast, but they had definitely loved each other. That’s why it hurt so much.

His sisters had managed to keep the date secret up until a week before Valentine’s Day. It was lucky that he didn’t have a shift. A part of him almost believed that that wasn’t any kind of coincidence but he would never be able to prove it and he was stuck going on the date anyway.

Eddie had tried arguing that there was no one to watch Christopher but when Julia offered to fly out specifically to babysit, Eddie told her he’d figure it out. Abuela was out of town and Pepa wasn’t an option either and Eddie knew Carla had plans which left him with the option of asking the one person that he hoped didn’t have any Valentine’s Day plans: Buck. And Buck, he was more than happy to watch Christopher. He didn’t have plans! It almost made Eddie ask him out instead if only to have a good reason for skipping on the blind date. But, Eddie was a coward and he wasn’t going to endanger their friendship that way.

Eddie got ready while on facetime with his sisters, each of them popping in and out to judge his clothes and his hair and trying to give him tips that often contradicted each other. Christopher kept asking why Eddie wasn’t going to hang out with him and Buck if he didn’t have work and Eddie didn’t want to explain it all so he let Viviana do it for him. It was the least she could do after all the trouble he was going to to go on a date he didn’t even want.

When Buck opened the door, Eddie was surprised by the way that Buck just stopped and looked at him and for a small moment, Eddie felt like maybe Buck was checking him out but he couldn’t be sure.

Christopher rushed forward and hugged Buck. It looked a little awkward what with the crutches, but Christopher was used to them and so was Buck.

“Hi, Buck,” Christopher said.

“Hey, kid,” Buck said, smiling at Christopher with so much warmth. “Come on, we have a lot to do tonight. Go get set up on the couch. I’ll be right there.”

Eddie stepped in after them and closed the door behind him. He longed to stay there with them, to join in on whatever Buck had planned for Christopher and to forget all about the night ahead of him. Staying in with Buck and Chris was the thing he wanted the most. He didn’t want a date with some stranger. He wanted them.

“There’s coloring books in his backpack and a few toys,” Eddie said. “It really shouldn’t be more than a couple of hours.” He was hoping it wouldn’t exceed that anyway. “Thanks a lot, Buck. I owe you one.”

Eddie ran over to hug and kiss Chris goodbye even if his son barely wrapped his arms around him, already too focused on whatever he’d put on the tv. He waved when he was at the door and left. He regretted it the moment the door closed behind him.

“Damn sisters.”

As he got into his car, he opened their group chat. One of them had named it “At Least Let’s Get Edmundo Laid” because they were just the worst. He texted them his annoyance but still drove to the restaurant where he was supposed to meet his date. The reservation had been made under Eddie’s name by one of his sisters and his date would be there waiting for him.

Eddie was nervous and a tad annoyed and mostly he hoped whoever it was wasn’t a psychopath.

—-

“Daddy’s going on a date,” Christopher informed him.

“Yes, I kinda gathered that for myself, kiddo,” Buck said.

They were doing a puzzle. It was 300 pieces and featured Lady and the Tramp. Christopher had been excited the moment that Buck brought it out. The pieces weren’t too small and Buck was enjoying how much Christopher seemed to love the challenge of finding the right pieces that fit together.

“Yeah,” Christopher said. “My aunts kind of made him.”

“They made him?” Buck asked.

That was a twist he didn’t expect. Buck hadn’t heard much about Eddie’s sisters, other than to know that they existed and that Eddie liked the distance he had from them living all the way in LA while they were in Texas.

“Oh, look, Buck! These go together!”

Buck grinned and reached over to ruffle Christopher’s hair.

“Kind of like...like me and you, you know,” Christopher said. “We go together too.”

Buck couldn’t help but chuckle at that. This kid...he was perfect and Buck really and truly loved him.

“I guess so, Christopher,” Buck said.

It was hard to not be in the moment when Christopher was with him. As curious as he was about Eddie’s date and as much as it bothered him that Eddie was on a date at all, Christopher made for an excellent distraction.

Christopher kept playing with the puzzle and Buck mostly just watched him, high fiving him every time that he managed to get two pieces together.

“Buck,” Christopher said eventually.

“Yeah, buddy?”

“You know you and daddy fit together too,” Christopher said and he was tipping his head to one side and grinning at Buck.

“He is my best friend,” Buck said. But boy did he wish they were more.

“No. Not like friends. Like more,” Christopher said.

“I don’t know about that, bud. Anyway, pizza for dinner?”

“Yes, Buck.” Chris said.

Buck chuckled and he went to grab his phone. He was surprised to see a text from Eddie.

How’s it going? You guys doing alright?

—-

His name was Neal. His hair was dark and slicked back and he was moderately handsome. He also had no sense of humor and was just a little bit self-obsessed. Or, at least, he liked to hear himself talk and he certainly liked to talk about himself. And his sisters had expected him to get along with this guy? To want a second date? He barely wanted to get through this first one.

At one point, Eddie excused himself to the bathroom and he texted them nothing more than a bunch of question marks. None of his sisters responded. So, then, he texted Buck. Checking in on them because that was what a father did. And maybe because he was wishing that he was with them instead.

Buck didn’t respond at once and when he did it was a thumbs up emoji and Eddie didn’t think that he could start up a conversation with him while he was on his date. He’d been gone too long as it was, so Eddie went back out and Neal smiled when he returned.

“You were gone a while. Everything okay?”

“Oh. Um, I had to check in with my friend. He’s watching my son.”

Apparently, that was not something Neal had been expecting. Then again, he’d barely allowed Eddie to get a word in edgewise.

Neal’s face fell into a deep frown. “You have a son,” he said.

Eddie nodded. “I do. Did my sisters fail to mention their nephew?”

From the look of him it was clear that they had. Because they probably thought that that wasn’t relevant information. They didn’t get it. Christopher needed to be first and foremost and if he was going to start dating, the person he dated needed to not only know about Christopher but also be okay with Eddie having a son — a special needs child at that.

“They didn’t mention it,” Neal said and took a few bites of his food.

They were both almost close to being done with their entrees and Neal had finally stopped talking incessantly. When their waiter came by asking if they needed anything, it wasn’t even Eddie that jumped at the chance to get the bill, but Neal who shot Eddie an almost apologetic look.

“I got this,” Neal said when it came. “Don’t worry about it.”

Eddie did not protest. A free dinner was the least he could get out of it. As they were walking out, Eddie took note of all the happy couples deep in conversation or staring into each other’s eyes in a disgustingly loving manner. The restaurant itself was decorated for the holiday with roses everywhere. When they reached the door, Eddie heard someone squeal and when he turned he saw a man drop down to one knee in front of a woman.

“A bit tacky doing it on Valentine’s Day,” Neal said.

“Or romantic,” Eddie said.

When they got outside, Neal turned and looked at him. “We really don’t have anything in common. But this was fun.” He offered up his hand and Eddie shook it.

Neal walked away and Eddie was tempted to call his sisters and tell them off for the two hours he’d wasted at a dinner with someone that he was never going to connect with. But, he didn’t want that aggravation, so instead he headed to where he’d parked his car and then drove straight to Buck’s apartment. He was so exhausted and the only thing that he wanted was to sit down with his son and Buck and maybe watch a movie. The thing he should have been doing in the first place.

—-

They ate while doing the puzzle. Christopher was determined to finish it and he was concentrating so hard but Buck would still sort of nudge him in the right direction. He left pieces that would surely go together right next to each other and pretended not to notice them so that Christopher would instead. It was fun.

“Think we can finish this tonight, Buck?”

“Maybe. I guess it depends on how late your dad is.”

Christopher frowned at that but refocused on the puzzle and Buck just chuckled and put a few pieces together so that maybe they could finish the whole thing by the time that Eddie returned and took Christopher home.

“Bucky, don’t you like my dad?”

“Of course I do. What makes you ask that?” He watched Christopher carefully as he moved pieces around with his fingers.

“Well, if my daddy is going to start dating again...well, why isn’t he on a date with you?” Christopher looked straight at him with his last word and Buck felt like Christopher was seeing right through him.

“I don’t know, buddy. I don’t know. Hey, look, we almost have all of Lady done.”

They were about halfway done when the door to his apartment clicked open. Only Eddie and Maddie had keys to his apartment and Buck didn’t expect Maddie to stop by unless something had gone wrong with Chim. Christopher was distracted by the puzzle but Buck stood up when he saw Eddie walk in.

“Hey,” Buck said and stepped around the puzzle to meet him closer to the door.

Eddie looked tired. “Hey,” he said back and then his lips turned up into a smile. “What are you guys up to?”

“Puzzle,” Buck said. “He’s having fun.”

“At least you guys had a good night tonight.”

Buck tried to hide how elated he was to hear that. “Not a good night for you?”

Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, Buck, you could say that. I, um, I went on a date tonight.”

“I sort of figured. Plus, Christopher told me.”

Eddie shook his head but he was smiling. “That kid doesn’t miss a thing. Yeah, my sisters made me go. They’ve been nagging me for ages and then they set this up and didn’t even tell me until the day I asked if you could watch Christopher. He was kind of a dick, to be honest.”

Buck felt lighter, suddenly. Happier. And then the words caught up with him. “He,” he said.

“Uh...yeah. Buck, you know I’m bi, right?”

Buck shook his head. “No, actually. I didn’t.”

“Oh,” Eddie said and shuffled awkwardly. “Well, I am.”

“Me too,” Buck said and because he didn’t know if he could watch Eddie’s reaction he turned and walked back to Christopher. “How’s it going, buddy?”

“Good,” Christopher said.

“Your dad is here,” Buck told him.

Christopher looked up and towards Eddie who had followed them. “Hi, daddy. We’re doing a puzzle.”

“I can see that, son,” Eddie said.

“Do we have to go yet?”

Eddie looked towards Buck and Buck shrugged. He would keep them forever if that was an option. “You can stay. If you’re hungry we still have some pizza.”

“The one thing I got out of it was a free dinner,” Eddie said.

“Oh. Um, beer?”

“That, I’ll take you up on. Kinda need that after tonight.”

When he came back with two beers, Eddie had dropped to help Christopher with the puzzle and Buck sat down to join them. Chris was showing Eddie everything they’d already put together. Eddie was sort of just moving pieces around rather than trying to find anything that fit and Buck could tell that he was distracted.

“Penny for your thought?”

“You know, in this economy, it may have gone up to a dime.”

Buck chuckled. “Dude, avoidant much?”

“How about we just work on the puzzle,” Eddie said.

For a while they just focused on that. Buck was still trying to help Christopher put pieces together so mostly he was searching for anything that might help him, his hands going all over the puzzle pieces and bumping into Eddie’s from time to time. Eddie sort of froze every time their fingers touched.

“All night, I just kept wishing I had just stayed here,” Eddie said. “Or at home. Anywhere but on that date.”

Buck didn’t know how to respond to that. He put a few pieces together and passed them towards Christopher. They were very nearly done with the whole thing.

“It was stupid,” Eddie said. “I don’t even...I’m not interested in finding someone new. But my sisters are just the worst and saying no to them just makes things even worse.”

Buck had no idea how much time passed while they worked on the puzzle but they finished the whole thing eventually. Christopher did the last ten pieces all on his own, giggling while he did it because he was just such a happy kid. When it was done, Buck expected Eddie to gather up Christopher and his things and be on his way but instead he moved over to the couch after grabbing a second beer and Christopher busied himself admiring his puzzle but Buck walked over to sit with Eddie.

“I really should have tried to get out of tonight. My sisters...they just like to meddle and they think me dating will make me happy or some nonsense. Abuela says they can’t leave anything alone. My love life being one of those things.”

Buck swallowed. “Well, don’t you want to find someone. Date...do all of that?”

Eddie shrugged his shoulders and he took a swig of his beer. “I have everything I need already.”

“Christopher,” Buck said.

Eddie nodded and he took a breath before he set down the beer bottle at his feet and he leaned a bit closer to Buck. Buck had no idea what was happening or why.

“And you,” Eddie said.

“And me?”

Eddie sort of nodded. “All I wanted to do today was spend the day with you. Christopher and you. If they hadn’t gotten me this fail of a date I...well, I would have wanted to do something with you tonight. Anything.”

As friends. Eddie probably meant that he’d wanted to spend the night with him as friends and Buck wanted that too even if he wanted something more too.

“Me too,” Buck said. He looked towards Christopher but he had to look back at Eddie when Eddie placed a hand on his knee.

—-

Eddie hadn’t known that he was going to say anything to Buck about his feelings when he first arrived at Buck’s apartment and he let himself in, but then his hand kept touching Buck’s and then they were sitting on Buck’s couch and Buck was right there and Eddie really didn’t want to leave without making it clear that Buck was important to him and not just as his friend.

“I don’t want to go on any dates unless it’s with you,” Eddie said.

Buck gasped and his gaze landed on where Eddie had placed his hand on Buck’s knee.

“You — you wanted to date me?” Buck asked.

Buck gave nothing away in the way he was looking at him but he wasn’t pushing Eddie away or telling him off so Eddie figured that was a good sign.

Eddie grabbed his hand. “I want everything with you,” he said and his own courage surprised him. “I was on that date and I wanted to be here. I mentioned Christopher to him and the thought of me having a child repulsed him. He wasn’t you. No one else is and no one will compare. I want you to be my Valentine. This year and next year and the year after that. No one else.”

Buck looked shocked but his hand was gripping Eddie’s hand back and his lips were twitching into a smile.

“Buck?”

Buck surged forward, breaching the space between them and he kissed Eddie, pressing his lips against Eddie’s and lifting a hand to hold his jaw and Eddie just melted into him. Buck was kissing him, he was right there, his nose brushing against’s Eddie’s cheek and his fingers just lightly moving against his jaw and it was perfect. It was more than Eddie had expected.

“I love you,” Buck whispered against his lips when he pulled back.

—-

They were kissing. Eddie and he were kissing. His mind was blown and thought was barely possible past trying to forever remember the way that Eddie’s lips felt on his or how Eddie’s hand had landed on his bicep and Eddie just kept moving it up and down in a caress. Eddie nipped at his lips and Buck gasped as their tongues met and Buck couldn’t think anymore. It was impossible to when Eddie was right there and they were kissing, kissing, kissing…

Buck couldn’t help but whine when Eddie pulled back, dotting Buck’s lips with a few chaste pecks after before pressing their foreheads together.

“Love you too, Buck. This should have been my night all along. Spending it with you,” Eddie said.

“This is not the worst Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had,” Buck said.

“Not by far,” Eddie said.

There was a lot to discuss still but none of that mattered when they were sitting so close together and they had been kissing just moments before. For Buck, something as simple as a kiss had never been much of a big deal but this kiss mattered. It being Eddie mattered. It made all the difference.

“I would keep kissing you except—” Eddie motioned towards where Chris was still looking over the puzzle.

Buck chuckled. He kissed Eddie’s cheek, hand lifting up from his jaw to caress Eddie’s forehead. Eddie sighed.

“How about we put on a movie? If you want, you can change into something more comfortable. You know where my clothes are.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back, then.”

“Daddy, where are you going?”

Buck had to get himself back together. Eddie seemed to say something to Chris and then he was heading up the stairs.

“Hey, buddy, you wanna help me get some popcorn? We’re going to watch a movie,” Buck said and Christopher scrambled to his feet and followed Buck to the kitchen.

“Hey, Buck,” Christopher said while Buck got a bag of microwave popcorn out of a cabinet.

“Yeah?”

“I told you that you and daddy belonged together.”

“You know, kid, you’re pretty smart.”

“I know,” Christopher said.

Buck couldn’t help but laugh. He tasked Christopher with listening to the kernels popping while he grabbed a bowl.

When Eddie got back, they had already opened the bag and dumped the popcorn into the bowl and Buck helped Christopher carry it over to the couch.

“You look really good in my clothes, so you know,” Buck said when he was passing by Eddie.

“Ah, so that was your motive,” Eddie said.

“That, or I just want to keep you here forever,” Buck said.

Eddie grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the living room. “You had only to ask for. I want you forever too.”

“Best Valentine’s Day ever,” Buck said.

“Yeah!” Christopher said from the couch and Buck high fived him.

Eddie chuckled but he was nodding along.

“Does this mean that you two are dating now?” Christopher asked.

Buck chuckled and Eddie could just smile and grin. “Yeah, that’s exactly what this is.”

“But I can still hang out with Buck too, right?”

Buck kissed the top of Christopher’s head. “Kiddo, I think I’m going to be around even more now. You’re going to be sick of me.”

“Never.”

“No?”

“Nope. Not ever. You’re stuck with us now, Buck,” Eddie said.

“And next time your sisters try to set you up on a blind date, you can just tell them you have a boyfriend,” Buck said.

Eddie chuckled. “Should have done that in the first place.”

Buck laughed. “That could have been a regularly cliche fake dating situation. Might have ended in the same place.”

They were looking at each other over Christopher’s head and Eddie reached over and placed a hand on Buck’s cheek. “We would have found a way to this one way or another.”

#buddietinesweek #buddie fic #911 fox #911 fox fic #911 #911 fic #buddie

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unpack-my-heart · 5 years ago

Text

Acute-y

A Reddie High School Math Teachers AU

Written as a gift for the insanely lovely @constantreaderfool <3

@xandertheundead @tinyarmedtrex @eds-trashmouth @mrs-vh @violetreddie

Read on AO3 HERE

“I dunno, Sir. I’m supposed to be putting in my college applications in a few days, and I still can’t decide what to pick as my major”

“What are you choosing between?”

“Math and biology. I’m better at math, and I don’t enjoy biology that much, but I can’t think of a decent reason to put down as to why I want to study math. What did you put when you applied to college?”

Eddie sat back in his chair, face scrunched in thought.

“You know when you’re in the middle of a really hard proof, and you don’t know where you’re going, you have no idea where to start and the whole thing just feels like a waste of time?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“That’s like being in a kayak in the middle of the ocean. You’re there, you’ve got all the tools you need to get you to shore, you’ve got your oars and everything, but you don’t have a map. You don’t know which way to go. But, when you figure out which way you are supposed to go, that feeling when you haul yourself onto shore with aching arms, that feeling when you know you’ve done it, that’s why math is amazing”

“Aching arms?”

“It’s a metaphor, Jasper. Just – look. I’m not naturally good at math. I always had to work a bit harder than my peers, who just seemed to … get it instantly. I definitely cried over integration more often than I’d admit to anyone else but you. But I think that’s why I love it so much. My childhood wasn’t … let’s say, my childhood wasn’t very rational. I craved structure, order, precision, any other synonyms that mean the same thing. I craved rationality and math gave that to me. To be able to break everything down, to get absorbed into the minutia of the universe, it’s addictive. It’s breath-taking, and it eases my soul”

Jasper is staring at Eddie with wide eyes, mouth hanging open slightly, and Eddie internally facepalms, cursing himself for spooking the teenager sat opposite him, but then Jasper smiles.

“Thanks, Sir. That – that’s really helpful. Thank you”

“Anytime,” Eddie says, sending Jasper off with a wave and a smile.

Standing up, Eddie stretches his arms towards the ceiling, prompting his back to crunch loudly in three places. His classroom is a mess. Pieces of paper lie strewn all over the floor, rogue pencils and forgotten textbooks littering the desks. Eddie’s school is small, and tragically underfunded, and despite only being a permanent member of staff for a year, Eddie already feels fiercely protective over it. The school is a downtown public school, and his kids mostly come from the impoverished neighbourhoods on the outskirts of the city. Almost all of them have long, boring commutes into school, and almost always slouch into his morning classes tired and starving from never having eaten breakfast, so Eddie has become the teacher that arrives to his classes with pep in his step and a box of granola bars lodged firmly under his arm.

Eddie got the job at Southview High School six days after he’d graduated from his teaching qualification. He’d applied to thirty schools, mostly disadvantaged public schools, and three private schools at the insistence of his mother. He’d been offered interviews for all of them, but he’d only attended one. As soon as he’d walked into the interview room, and shook hands with the head of department, a fiery woman called Dr. Marsh, he knew he was home. Dr. Marsh was firm, and the interview had lasted nearly two hours, and by the time she’d put him through his paces, Eddie felt like his brain was on fire.

He was sure that he’d failed the interview, but after thirty seconds of silence, Dr. Marsh stood up, stuck out her hand, and said, “Can you be here tomorrow at half seven? You’ll be taking the AP students, I’m taking their classes at the moment but I can’t commit as much time to them as they need. God knows they need someone like you”

Eddie had jumped up and down on the spot, before composing himself and accepting the position.

“Oh, and Eddie?”

“Yes?”

“Call me Bev”

The first few weeks had been pretty rough. The kids, predictably, had put Eddie through the ringer, testing boundaries and acting out as teenagers are wont to do. It took a while, but eventually Eddie, to use Bev’s phrase, ��grew some bollocks’, and started commanding more respect in the classroom. He achieved this, not through sending kids out of the classroom or handing out detentions like candy, but by just through the simple act of listening. The kids, Eddie was quick to realise, just wanted someone to validate, not dismiss, their teenage angst, and Eddie was more than happy to be their crutch.

Fast forward a year, and Eddie’s classroom has become more of a home to him than his actual home. It’s pretty large, and Eddie begged Bev to let him implement flexible seating, so his kids are sat on large tables that look more like picnic benches than desks, in order to encourage collaborative work. One thing that Eddie has come to realise, however, is that his class is full of genuinely talented mathematicians. When he hands back test results, it’s always the same ten students getting in the high nineties, which, gives him an idea.

He attaches a note to the most recent test paper of these ten students,

Can you stay behind after class? I need to ask you something!

[you’re not in trouble please don’t panic]

Needless to say, the kids panic.

“Sir? Am I in trouble? I swear I’ve handed in all the homework this term!”

“Mr Kaspbrak I’m really sorry, I didn’t realise I’d accidentally stolen the protector until I got home, I brought it back, though, honest!”

“Sir, what’s this about?”

“Guys! No, you’re not in trouble, but thanks for bringing the protractor back, Kim. No, I have a proposition for you. Have you ever heard of mathletics?”

The kids all shake their heads.

“Well, lemme explain …”

– X –

It takes several weeks for Eddie to recruit all of the students he cherrypicked as his dream mathletes team, but he manages it, with the promise of extra credit and no homework on heat weeks. Whilst he was a mathlete himself during his college years, Eddie hasn’t ever actually coached a team before, so he spends hours every evening reading every internet article and borrowing every book from the library he can possibly find on how to coach a mathletics team. Eventually, when he thinks his students are ready, and he manages to get them all to agree, Eddie registers them for a practice heat against a local school in their city.

Eddie and his motley crew of baby mathletes meet every Thursday and Friday after school to practice, and before they knew it, the morning of the heat was upon them. The heat was being held in the auditorium of the opposing school, so Eddie had to borrow the rusty old school bus to schlep his kids across the city. Bev, who had given Eddie an ecstatic “YES!” when he had asked for her permission to take the kids to a mathletics heat in school time, had announced the night before that she wanted to go with him. He had said yes, sort of hoping that she’d offer to drive the death-trap bus, but she’d climbed into the front passenger seat. Eddie prayed to the driving gods that they’d keep the roads clear and keep the wheels attached to the bus before he climbed in, and they set off to Faraday Technical School.

Thankfully, the journey goes smoothly. The kids chatter quietly in the back, and Bev manages to distract Eddie’s nervous stomach by discussing budget plans, and whether he thought that Iron Man would be better than her at differentiation. Eddie answered honestly that he didn’t think he would be. Soon enough, they pull into the gates of Faraday Technical School, and Bev hops out of the bus to speak to the guard on the gate. Eddie gulps. Their school doesn’t have a guard. Their school doesn’t even have gates. They just have an old caretaker called Jim who loves the kids and polishes the floor with his radio on full blast. The guard nods at Bev, and then nods over at Eddie, and then the gates swing open as if by magic, and Eddie drives through. The school looms ahead of them, and Eddie’s students all go silent. By the time Eddie has parked up, Bev has walked over to them, and she hauls the door of the bus open.

The kids don’t move.

“Dr. Marsh, I don’t think I can do this”

“Yeah I’ve … I’ve got a headache”

“Sir, we’re going to lose”

Bev claps her hands, “Hey! You can do anything these kids can do. Yeah, they go to a fancy school, but you’ve got Mr K and me on your side. You’ve worked so hard for this, don’t let the fact that this school has a pool spook you”

“They have a POOL?!”

“Why don’t we have a pool!”

“Because I want to be able to afford the latest textbooks for you, that’s why” Bev says, grinning.

After several minutes of animated encouragement from both Bev and Eddie, the kids finally filter out of the bus. They stand around looking ever the lost lambs, and Eddie’s heart bleeds for them. He knows exactly what it feels like. Imposter syndrome, feeling like you’re a fraud, like you don’t belong. Like you don’t deserve success.

Eddie and Bev herd the kids into the school, and they find the auditorium. The opponents are already on the stage, closely huddled together, with an older looking teacher with a shock of white hair and a pinched face standing in the centre of the huddle. The teacher was waving his hands wildly and speaking so loudly that Eddie could hear him at the other end of the hall.

“WHO ARE WE?”

“FARADAY TECHNICAL SCHOOL!”

“WHAT DO WE DO?”

“WIN!”

“WHEN DO WE WIN?”

“ALWAYS!”

“That’s a rubbish chant” Bev stage whispers, and their kids laugh nervously.

Eddie takes a deep breath in, squared his shoulder, sets his jaw, and strides purposefully over. He taps the teacher on the shoulder and clears his throat.

“Um, excuse me?”

“Ah, you must be Mr Kaspbrak, we spoke on the phone”

Eddie takes and shakes the extended hand.

“Yes! That’s me. You must be Mr Tozier?”

“Oh, no, no. I’m Mr Powell, the principal of Faraday Technical. Mr Tozier is sorting out the IT, you should liaise with him”

“Oh, okay. Where can I find him?”

A hand lands on Eddie’s shoulder and squeezes, and Eddie turns around. Stood behind him, and smiling at Eddie with a wolfish grin, is a man who can’t be any older than Eddie, perhaps a year at most. He’s wearing a very loud pink Hawaiian shirt, grey dickies and scuffed suede Chelsea boots, with round red glasses balanced on his nose. By all rights, he should look ridiculous. But he doesn’t. Not even close.

“Howzzit, fellow teach?” Mr Tozier says, voice crackly like autumn leaves.

“Uh…” Eddie replies, dumbly.

“I stalked your Linkedin, you know. MIT grad? Top of your class?” Mr Tozier whistles, impressed. “How’d you end up teaching sprogs if you’re some kind of hypergenius?”

“My Linkedin?”

“Yup! Wanted to check you out before you got here, see what I’d be up against. Gotta be honest, Eddie Spaghetti, you got me shaking in my boots”

Ridiculously, he starts shaking his legs, a pretence at fear that makes Eddie snort, despite his attempts not to encourage Mr Tozier’s ridiculousness.

“Eddie Spaghetti? Seriously?”

“Too informal? Would you prefer Mr Spaghetti?”

“I’d prefer Mr Kaspbrak, thank you,” Eddie says, somewhat prissily, but Mr Tozier doesn’t seem to mind, a lopsided grin still plastered on his face.

“So, Mr Tozier, how does this work?”

“Mathletics virgin, are we?” Mr Tozier says, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Not entirely. I was a mathlete myself when I was at MIT but I’ve never coached a team through a competition before”

“Aw, no shit? I was a mathlete at CalTech. What year were you on the circuit?”

“2006, you?”

“…2006. I fuckin’ KNEW you looked familiar!” Mr Tozier practically shouts, pointing a finger in Eddie’s face accusatorily.

“Do you think we competed against each other?”

Mr Tozier shrugs his shoulders, “’Prolly, your face … well, it looked familiar as soon as I stalked your LinkedIn. I’m like an elephant, I never forget cute faces”

Eddie splutters a bit, before raising an eyebrow challengingly, “well, if we did compete against each other, I wiped the floor with you. I never lost a heat. Eddie the dominator, they called me”

“Dominator, eh? We’ll see about that,” Mr Tozier says with a wink, before striding off towards his team.

“Wait!”

Richie turns around, “what’s up, Mr Spaghetti?”

“Enough with the spaghetti! I don’t think it’s fair that you know my first name and I don’t know yours”

“Richie, Richard if you’re angry with me”

“Got it, see you later, Richard”

Richie laughs, high, bright and scratchy.

“May the best team win, Mr Spaghetti”

Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically, but he can no longer suppress the smile that’s been tugging at his lips.

– X –

Eddie’s team wins the heat. As soon as the winners are announced, he bursts into tears. Happy tears, of course. His kids laugh at him mercilessly, calling him soppy and ridiculous, but they all have megawatt beams plastered on their faces. They only win by three points, 103 to 106, but the other team were smart, and there were various points in the heat that Eddie was trying to work out how to console his team when they inevitably lost. Bev picks Eddie up by the waist, and squeezes him so hard he makes this involuntary squeaky ‘oof’ noise, causing the kids to laugh at him even more.

When they’re piling the students back into the bus, with the promise of candy at the next mathletics meeting, one of the kids from Faraday Technical School runs up to Eddie clutching a folded piece of paper.

“Mr Tozier asked me to give this to you,” the kid says, out of breath and puffing.

Eddie tilts his head, “Uh, thank-you?”

The kid thrusts the piece of paper into Eddie’s hand, before running off again. Eddie opens the paper,

I’ve decided I don’t really like math. The only number I care about now is yours

Eddie looks up from the paper, face burning, and immediately locks eyes with Richie, who was standing in the window of the auditorium. Eddie waves at him, a weird jerky little motion. Richie grins, and winks at him. Eddie laughs, before shaking his head and climbing back into the bus.

Later, when Eddie’s at home grading problem sheets, he absent-mindedly checks his email, and sees that he has a notification from Linkedin.

Richard Tozier would like to add you as a connection!

Eddie accepts without much thought, and goes back to grading. Several minutes later, though, his computer pings again, this time with a message

Richard Tozier has sent you a message!

Richard: Fancy seeing you here

Edward: This … is an online message? You can’t see me?

Richard: You pedant

Edward: :-)

Richard: oh my god even your emojis are cute

Edward: :-(

Richard: Why are you sad!

Edward: did you want something or are you just trying to distract me from marking?

Richard: Both?

Edward: Not acceptable. I have to mark 34 more problem sheets and then plan a lesson tomorrow on trig identities

Richard: :-(

Edward: Now you’re just mocking me

Richard: I meant what I said, you know

Edward: … About?

Richard: Not liking math anymore

Edward: Get some better pick-up lines

Richard: You were charmed by it, don’t lie to me. I saw your face when you read that note.

Edward: No comment

Richard: :-)

It took more strength than Eddie would ever admit under oath to pull himself away from his computer, but he managed. Shutting his laptop lid with a click, he managed to lose himself in the problem sheets for several hours, before his eyes start getting heavy and he calls it a night. Before he goes to sleep, he impulsively checks his LinkedIn messages,

Richard: Are you the square root of 2? Because I feel irrational when I’m around you

Edward: You’re a nerd

Richard: ;-)

– X –

After their triumphant win at the practice mathletics heat, Eddie starts entering his kids for more and more practice heats, and even organises a few himself that they hold at their school. The confidence of his students blooms like blossom trees, and Eddie couldn’t be more proud if one of them had won the Fields medal. He’s still messaging Richie on LinkedIn. Like clockwork, Richie sends him a pick-up line at night, and Eddie always responds by calling him a nerd. It’s their thing now, and Eddie is punched in the stomach by the realisation that, if Richie stopped messaging him, he’d be devastated.

The thing that was frustrating Eddie the most, however, was the fact that their conversations had not moved off of LinkedIn. They hadn’t even added each other on Facebook, or followed each other on twitter, even though Eddie had managed to find Richie’s accounts on both sites. His mouse had hovered over the ‘add as friend’ and ‘follow’ buttons more times than he’d care to admit, but he could never quite bring himself to click. Eventually, the frustration builds up to a crescendo, and so, with his heart hammering in his chest, Eddie sends Richie a message.

Edward: Hey Rich, was wondering if you’d want a mathletics re-match? I wanna show off how good my kids have got

Edward: No pressure, of course

Richard: Name a time and a place, Mr Spaghetti

Eddie decides to throw the heat at his school, and he spends several days co-ordinating with Bev about where they should hold the heat, and then sweet talking the music teacher into agreeing to do the PA. Try as he might, Eddie can’t ignore the nerves gnawing at his stomach. he doesn’t really understand why he’s nervous because it’s not like Richie returns this pathetic school-yard crush Eddie has been harbouring since the first practice heat. Eddie rationalises it by assuming that Richie is just a naturally flirtatious person. It doesn’t work, though, and the nerves transform into butterflies.

The morning of the heat arrives. Eddie’s classroom overlooks the small parking lot, and he catches himself periodically staring out of the room, waiting for Richie’s bus to arrive. When the Faraday Technical School bus does arrive, Eddie is in the middle of explaining a particularly tricky vector problem. Eddie stares at Richie who is holding the bus door open, saluting each kid that hops out. By chance, Richie looks up, and sees Eddie staring at him from his classroom, and Richie winks at him again, causing Eddie to splutter. The student who is currently working out a problem on the board sends him an odd look.

“… so once you’ve found the dot product, you can find the angle between the two vectors,” Eddie continues, trying to regain composure.

“Uhhh Sir, the angle is acute”

“Yes, I know. You just worked that out on the board for us”

“Your answer is 116 degrees”

“…Shit”

“Sir! You swore!”

“Oh, Faraday are here, is that why you’re nervous?”

“… Yes. That is exactly why. The competition. Yes. Of course!”

The bell rings soon after, and Eddie scrambles down the hall to the cafeteria, that they’ve repurposed as a makeshift auditorium. His kids are already there, bickering between themselves about who will go first for the mental arithmetic round.

“Siiiiiiir! Jenny lost my calculator! I don’t have another one for the calculator round!”

“for fucks sake – Okay Kim! That’s fine. I’ll go and fetch you one,” Eddie says, and he sprints to the math supply cupboard at the other end of the school to get a spare one.

He darts into the cupboard, grabs a calculator, opens the door again and promptly screams because directly outside the door, leaning on the opposite wall, is Richie. Richie laughs at him, a proper belly-laugh, and clutches his stomach as he doubles over. Eddie huffs at him, and starts walking back towards the school hall, comically slow, allowing Richie to catch up with him

“Hey, Mr Spaghetti,” Richie says, breezily, walking sideways like a crab so he’s facing Eddie.

“Hello, you pest”

“You ready to get your ass handed to you?”

“I wouldn’t be so cocky, dude. My kids have been working super hard since the last meet, plus … we thrashed you last time so … it’s you that’s gotta be scared,” Eddie counters, poking his tongue out at Richie, childishly.

“You won by three points”

“We still won”

Richie leaps in front of Eddie, blocking his way, before standing up on his tip-toes and clasping his hands together, “care to make this interesting?”

“What d’ya mean?”

“Are you a betting man, Mr Spaghetti?”

“Is it ethical to bet on our students?”

“Ethical Schmethical. We won’t be exchanging money if that’s what you’re worried about,” Richie says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

He’s wearing different glasses frames this time. They’re blue, and they match his eyes.

Eddie shakes his head, distracted.

“… Go on”

“If my kids win, you gotta let me take you out”

“Hmm…,” Eddie muses, in mock consideration, “what if my kids win?”

“You gotta take ME out!” Richie says, eyes sparkling.

“But… that works out the same”

“Oh, so it does! What a clever little spaghetti you are”

“You gotta quit it with the spaghetti stuff!” Eddie scolds, but Richie just laughs at him.

“You gonna put me in detention?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “obviously not”

“What a shame. So, Eds, do you agree to our little wager?”

They’re nearly back at the hall now, and Eddie can hear Bev’s voice filtering through the PA system, instructing everyone to take their seats.

Eddie holds his hand out for Richie to shake, “deal”.

Richie takes his hand, but instead of shaking it, he presses a sloppy kiss to the back of Eddie’s hand.

“You must be an asymptote, because I just find myself getting closer and closer to you,” Richie whispers into Eddie’s ear, and before Eddie can call him a nerd, he’s gone.

– X –

Eddie’s kids lose the heat. They lose quite badly, actually, as Richie’s kids function like a well-oiled machine, and Eddie’s kids freeze when a particularly tricky integration stumps them. Eddie feels awful, especially because this was the first time they’d lost by a significant margin. His kids surprise him though, and they all shake the winners hands, looking upset but not angry. Eddie’s heart threatens to leap out of his chest, each beat a cacophony of proud, proud, proud.

Eddie also shakes the hands of all the kids, congratulating them on their speedy mental arithmetic and their teamwork. Bev yells something to him about the PA system not turning off properly, and Eddie turns his head to tell her that he’ll be there in a minute, but then another hand is in his. It’s larger and rougher than the others, and Eddie turns his head and, of course, it’s Richie.

“Well done, Mr Kaspbrak. You guys put up a good fight,” Richie says, no longer shaking Eddie’s hand, just holding it.

“Thanks, Mr Tozier. Your kids are quite impressive”

“Heh. They’re good eggs, all right. I’m proud of ‘em”

One of Richie’s kids screeched loudly for Mr To-zi-eeeeerrrhhh!!, and Richie’s head snapped backwards, before he turned back to look at Eddie, rolling his eyes, “they may be smart, but my God they’re demanding little sprogs”

Richie gives Eddie’s hand one last squeeze, before striding off towards the back of the hall, collecting his kids, and disappearing through the door.

Eddie looks down at his hand, and sees a tiny piece of paper folded up nestled in the center of his palm. It had a phone number scrawled on it in teeny tiny chicken-scratch scrawl, along with the words your new favourite number.

Eddie saves the number in his phone under ‘you nerd’, with a rolling-eyes emoji next to it.

– X –

To: You Nerd:

Very sneaky.

From: You Nerd:

Whatever do you mean?

To: You Nerd:

You know exactly what I mean.

Richie doesn’t respond immediately, and Eddie’s hands begin to itch.

To: You Nerd:

So where are you taking me?

From: You Nerd:

Ah-hah! A certain Mr Spaghetti hasn’t forgotten our wager

To: You Nerd:

Of course I haven’t

From: You Nerd:

Well, I’ve got a very exciting evening planned, but it’s a surprise so I can’t tell you. Are you free on Friday? Say, 6pm?

To: You Nerd:

Yeah, I can do Friday. Can you at least tell me what the dress code is, though?

From: You Nerd:

It doesn’t matter what you wear, you won’t be wearing it for long

To: You Nerd:

I’m not gonna put out you know

From: You Nerd:

I never insinuated such a thing

To: You Nerd:

… but you said I wouldn’t be wearing my clothes for long?

From: You Nerd:

just wait and see, Eds, just wait and see

Eddie doesn’t text back after that, getting lost in marking test papers. When he’s lying on his couch later that evening, knocking back a large glass of red wine, a thought suddenly pops into his booze-hazy brain … that fact that he just might have a picture of college-age Richie Tozier lurking in his scrapbook from his mathlete’s days. Eddie balances a chair in front of his wardrobe, and manages to pull the scrapbook off of the top using the pad of his index finger, sending it clattering to the floor. He flips through his college scrapbook, looking for the pictures of the mathletics heats he’d competed in, and he finds the one he’s looking for almost instantly. He’s standing there, holding the trophy, a stupidly big grin on his face (and those damn braces!) but in the corner, Eddie spots him. Richie. Richie’s standing in the corner of the shot, staring at Eddie with what look like, if Eddie didn’t know better, a sort of lovestruck expression on his face. Eddie grabs his phone and takes a picture of the photo, and sends it to Richie with the caption, you’re such a nerd.

Richie texts back almost instantly.

From: You Nerd:

I can’t wait to take you out Eds

Eddie’s sort of stunned by Richie’s reply. He’d expected Richie to make a joke about his braces, or the ridiculous sweater he was wearing, or even some corny pick up line. Not … this. After twenty minutes of fighting with himself, Eddie eventually sends, I’m excited, too.

– X –

The rest of the week flies by in a blur of standardised testing, broken protractors and departmental meetings. By the time Friday rolled around, Eddie was exhausted. He’d woken up and spilt his coffee all over his crisp, white suit trousers, and then his car wouldn’t start so he’d popped the hood, and oil had spurted all over his sweater. One quick change later, and he’d finally made it to school. Only then, much to his chagrin, and after bumping into several tiny Dracula’s in the hallway, he remembered. It was Halloween. The worst teaching day of the year. By the end of the school day, the oppressive smell of fake blood had turned Eddie’s stomach, and if he never had to look at someone wearing Frankenstein’s monster bolts in their neck again, it’d be too soon.

Richie had text him earlier in the day with a house address, and when Eddie had sent back pensive looking emojis Richie had reassured him that, whilst that was his home address, he did actually have plans to take Eddie out, and it certainly wasn’t a Netflix and chill kind of situation.

Eddie drives to Richie’s house, parks up outside. Eddie is surprised to find that Richie lives in a very nice suburban neighbourhood, like something from a storybook. White picket fences, jack-o-lanterns, ghosts hanging from trees, the whole deal. Just when Eddie had worked up the courage to get out of the car and knock on Richie’s door, it swung open and Richie marched out. He was dressed as a ghost, draped in a huge sheet, which had two comically small, wonky eyeholes cut out of it.

“We’re going trick or treating!” Richie yells, and whilst his face is obscured by the sheet, and the eye holes are far too small for Eddie to see his face, he can just tell that Richie is looking very pleased with himself.

“Aren’t we a bit old for trick or treating?” Eddie asks, sceptical. He walks up to Richie, who bounds back inside his house. Eddie follows him.

“This isn’t all my house, it’s two apartments. I live on the first floor,” Richie explains as he walks up the stairs, beckoning Eddie to follow him.

“I thought you said we were going out?”

“We are! I just need to check on the child”

“… The child? You have a kid?”

“Me? Naw. She’s not mine. I borrowed her”

“… You borrowed a child?”

“Yup”

“… is that legal?”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure an uncle can take his niece trick or treating without informing the authorities, you silly spaghetti,” Richie laughs, pushing the door open.

Richie’s apartment is small, but cosy. It’s fairly messy, books scattered on every available surface, posters littering the walls, five mugs of half-forgotten coffee on the coffee table. Eddie is surprised by how similar Richie’s apartment looked to his own house.

Whilst Eddie is browsing Richie’s expansive book collection, a small child bursts through into the living space. She can’t be more than six or seven years old, but Eddie still screams.

“Jesus Christ!”

“Uncle Rich! That man said a bad word!”

“Oh hush, you demon. Your father says worse when he sings you lullabies at night. But… Jessica you look … really quite horrifying”

“Thanks!” Jessica beams. She’s dressed in a grubby clown costume, complete with Jacobean ruff and breeches. Her face is painted white, with red lines that look like deep welts running from her eyes down to her mouth, and her hair is obscured with a violently orange wig. In short, she looked uncannily like the sort of clown that appears to Eddie in his sleep paralysis nightmares.

“Did – did you choose her costume?” Eddie asks, looking at Richie with wide, terrified eyes.

“No… she chose it herself, I would have dressed her up as a bee or something not,” Richie gestures helplessly to his niece, who is making scary faces at herself in the reflection of the coffee table, “this”

The oven dings, and Richie pulls out a plate of roasted vegetables and sausages that look suspiciously like the morning star ones Eddie eats on a Saturday morning.

“Is she veggie?”

“Naw, but I am. I refuse to cook her dead carcasses as much as the little carnivore might beg me,” Richie says, ruffling Jessica’s hair, who is sat on the kitchen counter, shovelling food into her face at lightning speeds. “I told her she couldn’t have any candy unless she ate some real food first. Plus, while she’s distracted, I can show you your costume!”

“My … my costume?” Eddie asks faintly.

Richie nods vigorously, and skips into his bedroom, before emerging clutching a small package wrapped in paper decorated with pumpkins and cats wearing witches hats.

“It’s not my birthday, Rich”

“Yeah, but I don’t know when your birthday is, so I wanted to have all bases covered in case it happened to be today”

“… you’re cute,” Eddie says, before ripping the paper off the package, and revealing a Jack Skellington costume.

“Are you serious?!”

“As a heart attack,” Richie says, solemnly.

“Why aren’t you dressed as Sally then?!”

“I don’t have the legs for it”

Eddie scoffs, “uh, yeah you fuckin’ do,” before he can catch himself. He slaps a hand across his mouth when he realises what he just implied.

“Been checkin’ out my pins have we, Mr Kaspbrak?” Richie lisps, stretching out his leg in a hilarious display of faux-coquettishness.

Eddie throws the wrapping paper at his head.

Eddie disappears into the bathroom, and tries the costume on. Staring at himself in the mirror, adjusting his bowtie, he has to admit to himself, he makes for a good pumpkin king. He sweeps his hair off his face, and secures it under the bald cap, and emerges from the bathroom with a flourish.

Riche clutches at his heart, “Oh sugar, ain’t you the sexiest skeleton I ever did see”

“I don’t really look like a skeleton yet. Did you get facepaints?”

“sure did, c’mere, lemme …” Richie sweeps Eddie under his arm, and guides him to the couch.

Richie crouches between Eddie’s open legs, and starts covering his face in white paint. Eddie holds his breath. Their faces are close enough that Eddie can feel the rhythmic puffs of breath coming out of Richie’s mouth, and he can see the flecks of green in Richie’s aquamarine eyes. Richie smells like smoky sandalwood and a little bit like mint. Toothpaste. Eddie tries to breathe it in without Richie noticing.

All too soon, Richie sits back on his heels, eyes scanning Eddie’s face, admiring his handiwork, “There!”

Eddie stands up, and walks over to the mirror hanging over the mantlepiece of the filled-in fireplace. He looks .. incredible. His entire face is sheet-white, with black rings around his eyes and lips.

“Holy shit, Rich…”

“He said another bad word!” Jessica yelled from her place on the counter, where she was now pushing a lonely piece of broccoli around on her otherwise empty plate.

Richie looks at the plate, and shrugs his shoulders, “good enough!”

After several minutes of highly concentrated pestering from Jessica, all three of them are out of the door into the quickly darkening night. They hop from house to house, Jessica scaring more than her fair share of other kids and even other adults. Eddie surprises himself by how much he enjoys wandering around the streets, admiring all of the costumes and sharing swigs of a bottle of hard cider Richie has hidden under his sheet.

Richie soon realises that the holes he cut in his sheet were far too small to walk normally, so he latches onto Eddie’s hand, threading his fingers through Eddie’s.

“You gotta be my eyes, spooky spaghetti. I can’t see a fuckin’ thing. Keep an eye on the clown, would ya”

Eddie squeezes Richie’s hand in reply, not trusting himself to speak.

Half way through the night, though, Richie takes off his sheet.

“The damn thing is too hot and I probably shouldn’t leave you in sole charge of the clown,” he reasons, shoving the crumpled up sheet into his bag.

“Put the damn thing back on!”

“Nope! You’re in costume enough for us both,” Richie laughs but he takes Eddie’s hand again.

After a few steps, Richie starts singing.

“And does he notice, my feelings for him? And will he see? How much he means to me”

“That’s a sad song, Rich,” Eddie whispers in response, watching Jessica roar at, and terrify, yet another small child. The kids mother glares at them, and Richie just shrugs at her, whatcha gonna do?

“Maybe. The movie does have a happy ending though,” Richie says, and Eddie just nods.

They drop Jessica back at Richie’s brothers house just before nine, and she’s so hyped up on candy and sugar that Eddie is sure that she’ll never sleep again. Richie’s brother looks almost exactly like him, and Eddie is about to ask if they’re twins, but Richie interrupts him.

“The night is young, spooky spaghetti! Follow me for the next step of the surprise”

Eddie is sceptical, mainly because the last surprise resulted in him being dressed as Jack Skellington and paraded around the neighbourhood by a plain-clothed Richie, but he figures it can’t get any worse, so he follows.

– X –

“I’ll have the mushroom bourguignon please, waiter!” Richie announces, shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Eddie, mortified and wishing he could fall straight through the floor and be devoured by the jaws of Satan himself just mumbles, “I’ll have the same.”

As soon as Richie had stopped outside the door of the fancy French restaurant, Eddie had wanted to cry. Richie hadn’t let him go home to change, assuring him that his costume would be perfectly fine attire for wherever they were going.

Richie was a liar.

Eddie had gone into the bathroom of the restaurant and fiercely scrubbed the make-up off his face, but it hadn’t quite worked, and his face now just looked sort of grey, where all the white and black face paint had blended into each other. He comes out of the bathroom, and stalks over to the table where Richie is sat, looking entirely normal in skinny black jeans and a deep purple button-up.

“I look like a dollar store Beetlejuice,” Eddie groans as he sits back down, trying to hide as much of the costume under the table as he can.

“You look ravishing, my darling,” Richie says, fluttering his eyelashes. Eddie is sure that it was supposed to be a joke, but the way Richie said it, all deep and sincere and … it certainly didn’t sound like a joke.

“Why the fuck did you buy me this costume?

“Well, I wanted you to be a pi pie, y’know, write the all of the digits of pi around the crust, but I thought you’d take it off”

“How many digits of pi do you even know?”

“Like 300”

Eddie raises his eyebrow, and Richie rolls his eyes.

“Fine, I know … 4”

“… You went to CalTech, and you’re a high school math teacher, and you only know four digits of pi!”

“There’s a pi button on the calculator, I don’t need to know it!”

“You’re a fucking nightmare,” Eddie says through his laughter, and Richie grins at him.

The food arrives promptly and it’s good, the best food Eddie had eaten in a long time, and he wolfs it down embarrassingly quickly. As is expected when two teachers spend more than four minutes together, the conversation turns to why they decided to become math teachers.

“I went to MIT on a scholarship, and I graduated top of my class as you know, and when I graduated I was pressured into taking a doctoral programme in fluid mechanics, but I lasted only two months before I dropped out because I hated the bureaucracy of it all, y’know, and I wanted to make a difference in kid’s lives, as cheesy as that sounds,” Eddie says between slurps of his soup.

Richie nods, “Yeah, my reason is pretty similar. I had ADHD, or, I guess I still do, but I take meds now so it’s easier to cope with, but yeah, all my teachers fucking hated me and didn’t have any patience with me. They didn’t bother spending more than two seconds trying to work out the best way to teach me, so I was sort of on my own all through my education, and I couldn’t bear the thought of that happening to anyone else, so I put myself through the torturous teaching degree and here I am!”

Eddie looks at Richie, really looks at him for the first time. Richie’s sat opposite him, shovelling mushrooms into his mouth and there’s sauce on his chin and he’s got red paint on his arm and he looks beautiful.

– x –

They both get far drunker than they meant to. They’re not catatonic, and they can still walk in a straight line, but Eddie knows there’s no way in hell that he’ll be able to drive home safely. He tries to get a cab from the restaurant, but Richie insists that Eddie stays with him. Eddie uhms and ahhs about it, stranger danger stranger danger! echoing in his drunk brain, but he throws caution to the wind and agrees to stay. He does, however, insist that he’s sleeping on the couch before Richie can even mention alternative sleeping arrangements.

Richie tries anyway, “we can top and tail, or you can have my bed, honest, I’ll sleep on the floor I don’t mind,” but Eddie’s having none of it. They hail a cab, and both clamber into the back seat. They sit in comfortable silence for the duration of the journey, but at one point Richie’s hand finds its way to Eddie’s knee, sending Eddie’s heart into overdrive.

When they get back to Richie’s, Richie rushes into his bedroom to grab Eddie some stuff to sleep in, sweatpants and a t-shirt with Da Vinci’s Vitruvian man on it. After calling Richie a nerd, and then asking if he could have a shower, and then having to ask Richie to show him how the shower works, Eddie stands under the boiling torrent of water and sighs, but before too long he can hear this odd scraping noise, accompanied by the occasional BANG. He puts it down to him being drunk, and finishes up in the shower. He towel dries his hair, running his fingers through it a few times to get rid of any knots, and puts on the clothes Richie leant to him which are, predictably, far too big. When he emerges from the bathroom, he’s greeted with the sight of a vaguely sweaty looking Richie leaning on the couch, which is now on its side, lodged in the doorway of Richie’s bedroom.

“It’s stuck”

“I can see that”

“Gimme a hand, Eds?”

Eddie leans on the sofa and gives it an almighty shove, and after a fair bit of effort from both of them, the sofa slides through the door and into Richie’s bedroom.

“Care to tell me why the couch is now in your bedroom and no longer in the living room?”

“Halloween magic!”

“… I literally helped you shove it in here two seconds ago”

“Like I said, Halloween magic!” Richie says, already flitting around his room, picking up rogue shoes and pairs of jeans and throwing them into the already overflowing laundry basket.

Richie ends up shoving his bed right over into the corner of the room so he can position the couch next to it, so when Eddie lies on it he’ll be facing Richie. Eddie finds all of this unbearably cute, but he’s exhausted so he falls onto the couch and makes grabby hands for the blanket Richie’s holding. Richie drapes it over Eddie with this dopy expression on his face that Eddie would have ribbed him for if he hadn’t been so sleepy.

“Thanks for taking me out, Rich. I had a really great day”

“It was my pleasure, Mr Spaghetti”

“Rich?”

“Hmm?”

“You were a cute ghost”

“Aw shucks, sugar, you’re making me blush”

Eddie smacks his lips sleepily, before stretching out his legs, “ghosts can’t blush, they don’t have any blood”

Richie laughs, and says “so fuckin’ cute” under his breath, and Eddie guesses he didn’t mean for him to hear, but he does hear, and it makes his heart skip in his chest.

Several minutes pass, and Eddie guesses Richie has fallen asleep, and he’s on the very brink of sleep himself when Richie breaks the silence.

“Eds? You asleep?”

“Yes”

“Sorry, sorry, go back to sleep”

“You gotta tell me what you wanted now, that’s the rule”

“The rule?”

“The rule that goes, ‘when you wake someone up to tell them something, you can’t then not tell them’. It’s a sacred, ancient rule,” Eddie replies, knowing he’s not making much sense, but finding it hard to care.

“Ah okay,” Richie says, solemnly, “I won’t break your ancient rule. I just wanted to ask if you were free next weekend?”

“Nope,” Eddie responds, immediately.

Silence.

“…Oh”

“Are you free next weekend?”

“What?”

“It’s my turn to ask you out. So, are you free next weekend?”

“… What just happened?”

“Just go with it! Are you free?”

“…Yes?”

“Good! I’m taking you out”

“You’re a strange little spaghetti, aren’t you”

“I’m tired leave me alone,” Eddie yawns.

Richie leans out of his bed, and presses a chaste kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

“Sleep well, Eds”

– X –

Eddie wakes up the next morning with a pounding head and a dry mouth. He panics initially, not recognising the room but he soon remembers that he’s lying on a couch in Richie Tozier’s bedroom and then he’s … still panicking a bit. Richie isn’t in his bed, and Eddie can hear singing coming from the kitchen, so he pads out into the kitchen, Richie’s too-long sweatpant legs covering his feet.

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes in the morning, Mr Spaghetti,” Richie sing-songs, scraping something burnt and bad-smelling into the bin.

“Hullo, Rich. What’s cooking?”

“It was an omelette but now … sad, burnt eggs,” Richie says, staring sadly at the black mess coating the bottom of the pan.

“Cereal?” Eddie suggests, and Richie beams at him.

“Cereal!”

Richie pours them bowls of cereal, and they sit in comfortable silence.

“Thanks for letting me stay last night,” Eddie says, droplets of milk spilling out of his mouth.

“Oh, no problem. You might have to help me move the couch back out here though”

Eddie snorts into his bowl, “you’re such an idiot, Rich”

“It’s endearing though, right?” Richie asks, sending a pantomime wink over to Eddie

“Eh, you say endearing, I say ridiculous”

“Tomayto, tomahto”

They finish up their cereal and Eddie helps Richie haul the couch back into the living room. Eventually, Eddie remembers that he has to go home to grade papers and make arrangements for the next practice mathletics heat, so he gets changed back into his own clothes, and leaves the clothes he borrowed from Richie in a neat pile on the bathroom counter.

They both stand awkwardly at the front door, Eddie’s hand on the door-knob, neither moving, neither saying anything. Eddie breaks the awkwardness with a hug, and they stand there for a while, Eddie’s hands wrapped around Richie’s neck, before Eddie reaches up on his tippytoes and presses a kiss to Richie’s cheek. It makes him feel like an idiot schoolgirl, but the way Richie’s face flushes scarlet makes him feel a bit better.

– X –

Eddie takes a big risk, and enters his kids into the qualifying heat of the Mathletics Olympiad, a state-wide mathletics competition. They win their first qualifying heat by a significant margin, and Eddie cries again. Richie phones him in the evening;

“I hear that Southview won their qualifier!”

“We did!”

“Did you cry again?”

“…”

“… No”

“You did, didn’t you?”

“… maybe”

“You’re so cute”

“Shut up”

“Never. I’m proud of you, y’know”

“Eh? I didn’t do anything, it was all their hard work”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think a lot of teachers woulda’ taken a chance on kids from a school like yours”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I meant, Eds, I just meant that I can’t imagine many math teachers from struggling schools would have bothered running a math club, let alone pushing their kids to mathletes”

“Well … they’re bright kids”

“I know they are, and they’ve got you cheering them on from the side lines. I hope they know how lucky they are”

“I didn’t realise you were such a sap”

“I’m getting mushy in my old age”

They talk on the phone for hours, and Eddie ends up falling asleep with the call still connected. When he wakes up, he sees that he has a text from Richie;

From: You Nerd <3:

Are you a 45 degree angle? Because you're acute-y.

To: You Nerd <3:

I was wondering when you’d break out the acute jokes

To: You Nerd <3:

Running out of material?

From: You Nerd:

NEVER!

Eddie’s school keeps winning the mathletics heats, and soon enough, they win the semi-finals by a ten point lead and Eddie cries down the phone to Richie, who immediately demands that they go out to celebrate. Eddie gets the subway in because he knows he’ll probably get drunk again, and they go to a cocktail bar that has a lively atmosphere, with Lo-Fi beats wafting through the air like smoke.

Eddie sits down at a booth at Richie’s insistence, who then disappears off to the bar to order their first drinks. Richie comes back carrying two glasses, having bought himself an old fashioned, and he orders Eddie a Tequila Sunrise. Richie manages to get half way through it, but as he drinks more, he starts looking visibly sickened by it, making involuntary faces of disgust.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, knowing exactly what’s wrong.

“This is disgusting”

Eddie laughs, an ugly honking sound that makes Richie double-take, “why did you order it?”

“… I thought it’d be cool and I wanted you to think I was sophisticated”

Eddie, who had been toying with his sickly sweet drink, wordlessly swapped the glasses in front of them, and sipped at the old fashioned with a quirked eyebrow.

“How emasculating,” Richie said, voice cracking in the middle, a wry smile appearing on his face.

“So, I heard on the grapevine that we’ll be going toe to toe in the mathletics final?” Eddie asks, downing the last of the bitter cocktail.

“Talking shop on a date? Very disappointing, Spaghetti”

“Is that what this is?” Eddie challenges, locking eyes with Richie, who shuffles closer on the sofa.

“… Was it not obvious?”

“It was, I just wanted to make you squirm”

Richie gasps, scandalised. “You’re a scoundrel, Mr Spaghetti”

“Do you wanna make another wager?” Eddie asks, Dutch courage flowing through his veins.

“Mayhaps, what do you have in mind?”

Eddie gathers up their empty glasses, and stands up to head to the bar. As he walks past Richie’s chair, he leans in to whisper in his ear, “If you win, I’ll let you go on top”

He walks off to the bar, cackling to himself, and orders two more of the same drinks. When he returns to the table, Richie looks whiplashed, and stares at him with wide, owlish eyes

“Were you serious?” Richie asks, voice low and gravelly, like Eddie had punched him in the throat.

“… No, maybe, no, I don’t think I was, I’m very drunk”

“You’ve had one drink”

“I am very drunk”

– X –

Eddie goes back to Richie’s again that evening. He justifies it to himself with the fact that it’s too cold to walk all the way back to his apartment. It’s a shitty excuse, because really he isn’t ready to say goodnight to Richie yet. When they get into his apartment, Richie nudges the couch with his foot coyly.

“I guess we have to move the couch again?”

“Naw, c’mon, we’ll top and tail it,” Eddie responds, nodding at the door to Richie’s bedroom.

Eddie borrows the same clothes as before, which Richie admits that he washed and stored in hope that Eddie would come and stay again.

Suddenly, they’re hugging. Eddie isn’t sure who initiated it, but they’re standing in the middle of Richie’s bedroom, the lights are off, and Eddie’s face is nestled in the crook of Richie’s neck. Richie is humming, a soft sort of melody that Eddie vaguely recognises, and he’s swaying them back and forth slightly. When Eddie feels like he’s falling asleep standing up, Richie guides him over to the bed, and guides him down so his head is on the pillow.

Richie pulls the duvet up around Eddie’s chin, and when he moves away, Eddie murmurs “fuck it” and surges up and kisses Richie. Richie doesn’t kiss back at first, and Eddie feels the oh fuck deep in his gut, but just as he’s about to pull away, Richie’s hands come up to cradle Eddie’s face, and he starts kissing back.

There was no pretence to the kiss, no pretending to take it slow or act reserved, as Richie pushed Eddie backwards against the pillow until he was supine with Richie bracketing his head with his arms. Eventually the kisses organically grow less heated, and they roll over onto their sides, and Eddie falls asleep with Richie pressing small clandestine kisses to his nose, cheeks, forehead.

– x –

When Eddie wakes up, Richie is still in bed with him, perhaps because Eddie has trapped Richie underneath his body sometime in the night. After Eddie stares at his face for a while, watching his nostrils flare with each inhale and exhale of breath, Richie wakes up.

“G’morning, sleepy,” Richie mumbles, grabbing Eddie’s hand and pressing a dry kiss to it with chapped lips.

“Pretty sure you’re the sleepy one, I’ve been awake for ages”

“And who is the one who fell asleep in the middle of the smooch session last night?”

“What?” Eddie questions, playing at confused.

“… um... y’know, when we were kissing last night and you fell asleep in the middle of it?”

“We kissed?”

“Do you – do you not remember?”

“No!”

“Uh… I don’t know what to tell you, Eddie” Richie says, panicked, and Eddie starts feeling cruel.

“I’m fucking with you, of course I remember”

Richie growls and flips Eddie over, and cages Eddie’s head with his arms, “you’re such a little shit”

Before Eddie can answer, Richie kisses him. Eddie buries his fingers in Richie’s hair and gives an experimental tug, smiling around the moan that Richie sends rocketing into this throat.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, Eds, Jesus,” Richie moans, before clamping his teeth down on the junction between Eddie’s neck and shoulders.

Eddie’s cock jerks in his sweatpants, and his hands fly to Richie’s shoulders, knuckles white.

“Ahhh – fuck Rich – don’t – make sure it’ll – ahhhh – be covered by my shirt”

“When I saw you on that first day, in your loafers and your dress pants and that fucking sweater looking all prim and proper I just wanted to mess you up”

Richie bites at Eddie again, but he pulls off, and stares down at Eddie. Eddie knows he looks wrecked, his hair is probably a mess, and his eyes keep rolling back when Richie shifts against him, but the way Richie is looking at him, an oxymoronic predatory yet soft look, suggests that Richie doesn’t mind too much.

They kiss like touch-starved teenagers for a while longer, until Eddie’s school alarm blares from the bedside table.

“Cock-block” Richie growls, batting at the phone with the hand that wasn’t wrapped loosely around Eddie’s neck.

Eventually, they manage to haul themselves out of bed. Eddie asks to use the shower again and wildly thinks about asking Richie to join him, the promise of Richie’s body, warm, wet and soapy against his overwhelmingly tempting, but he chickens out at the last minute. Eddie puts on the clothes he wore last night, and prays that Bev won’t mention it, even though he knows that she will.

“I can pick you up later, if you like … since you don’t have your car and all,” Richie offers, hopping on one foot as he tried to lace up his boot.

“I can ask Bev to drop me back, it’s all good”

“Naw, I – I wanna do it. I don’t think I wanna wait that long to see you again,” Richie says, putting his booted foot down and crowding Eddie against the wall.

“You big sap”

Richie wraps Eddie in his arms, and presses a kiss to the top of his head, “I told ya, mushy.”

Richie drives Eddie to his school, and Eddie hops out of the car. He walks around to Richie’s side and taps on the window, Richie rolls it down, Eddie shoves his head in through the window and presses a hard kiss to Richie’s mouth, but skips off before Richie can respond.

Richie hollers after him, “HAVE A GOOD DAY AT SCHOOL, MY LOVE!” and Eddie flips him off over his shoulder.

School passes quickly, it’s the week before the finals of the Mathletics Olympiad so basically all of Eddie’s time is taken up with that.

Richie picks him up from school as promised, but Eddie is disappointed to hear that he can’t come into Eddie’s apartment.

“I actually have to go back to school, I snuck out of a meeting to drive you home but I have to go back to my mathletics group”

“Rich! You should have let me ask Bev!” Eddie scolds, but his heart sings like a sparrow in his chest.

“But then I couldn’t have done this,” Richie says, and he surges over the gearbox and presses his mouth to Eddie’s.

They kiss until Richie starts shifting uncomfortably, gear stick poking into his ribs.

– X –

The next week is unadulterated chaos. Both Eddie and Richie are really busy, and can’t see each other before the competition. Eddie can’t help but feel really weird about the fact his school will be going up against Richie’s for such an important competition, and he wants to talk to Richie about it but Richie has been so hard to reach the past few days bc he’s been so busy so Eddie leaves it. He occupies himself with booking transport to the venue, reassuring his kids that they do deserve to be there, and trying not to neglect the rest of his AP classes.

The day of the final comes not a moment too soon, as Eddie is sure that his heart would give out if he put it under any more stress. The final is being held in the auditorium of a local university, so Eddie drives the shitty little school bus over there with his kids who are terrified. Bev works hard to keep their spirits up, as she’s taken over the role of chief motivator as Eddie is stupidly nervous, and he can barely concentrate on driving, let alone motivating 10 terrified kids.

They get to the university, and Eddie immediately notices that Richie’s school bus is already in the parking lot. They go in, they register, they go backstage and sit in the room designated to their school to prepare in. Eddie works hard to calm down his very panicked kids, whilst Bev simultaneously tries to calm down a very panicked Eddie.

Suddenly, Richie’s head appears around the door.

“Mr Kaspbrak, can I talk to you for a second?”

Eddie follows Richie out, “Rich, it really is so lovely to see you, but I’m also terrified to see you, so I think it’s best if you–”

Richie cuts Eddie off with a kiss, and Eddie can’t help but melt into it, tension draining out of his bones like water. Sadly, as soon as the kiss begins, Richie is pulling off again.

“Sorry, babe. See you ringside, coach!”

Richie darts off, and Eddie just has to lean against the wall and breathe.

– X –

Eddie’s kids win.

Eddie immediately bursts into tears.

Jasper, the team gives a rousing acceptance speech when he accepts the trophy, “we’re really proud of ourselves, the other team were amazing and we feel so honoured to be here today, it’s a privilege.”

To Eddie’s horror, they bring the mic over to the coach, announcing that “we will now a word hear a word from the coach of the championship team.”

Eddie has to stumble on stage, puffy and red faced, and he’s tries his best to speak through his tears, but all he manages to do is sob something incomprehensible, loud and sort of proud sounding into the microphone. The audience looks bemused and vaguely concerned, but Richie, who was standing on the other side of the stage with his team, is crying with laughter.

Soon after the presenting ceremony, there is the refreshment reception for the winning team. The kids all mill about, hyper on candy, sugary drinks and triumphant victory. Eddie manages to drag Richie into a secluded corner, where they can talk without risk of being overheard. Richie grasps Eddie’s hand and squeezes it.

“I’m so proud of you, short-stack”

“Short-stack?!” Eddie replies, incredulously, “I’m five-foot-nine thank you very much!”, but then he sees Bev waving to him frantically, so he sends a quick “see you later” to Richie over his shoulder as he runs off towards her.

– X –

Eddie sleeps like the dead that night, and he finds himself recruited into a celebration pep rally for the mathletics team the next day so doesn’t have time to think, breathe or eat or even text Richie.

Finally, when he gets home, he’s half way through texting Richie --

To: Short Stack:

Hey Rich, sorry I had to run last night,

-- but he doesn’t manage to get any further than that before he can hear shouting coming from outside of his window.

“I fear that I will always be a lonely number like root 3, a three is all that’s good an right, why must my 3 stay out of sight, beneath this vicious square root sign”

Richie is standing on the grass beneath Eddie’s window, swaying slightly, with a megaphone clasped between both hands, and he’s screaming into it.

“I wish instead I were a nine, for nine could thwart this evil trick, with just some quick arithmetic,”

“Are you really doing this? The Harold and Kumar thing?” Eddie yells out of his window, in disbelief.

“I know I’ll never see the sun as 1.7321, such is my reality, a sad irrationality, when hark, what is this I see?”

“So you are doing the Harold and Kumar thing”

Richie, undeterred, carries on yelling, “another square of a three, has quietly come waltzing by, together now we multiply, to form a number we prefer, rejoicing as an integer”

“I never thought I’d be serenaded with a maths poem, oh, you’re shouting over me, okay, please do continue”

“We break free from our mortal bonds, and with a wave of magic wands, our square root signs become unglued, and love, for me, has been renewed”

“Are you done? You’re done. Richie, are you okay?” Eddie asks, openly laughing now.

“I’m sorry if I said something bad!” Richie yells, still talking into the megaphone. Eddie can see the lights of his neighbours houses begin to flick on.

“For fucks sake, you lunatic! I have neighbours! Neighbours who probably hate me now!”

Eddie runs downstairs and opens the door, and Richie practically launches himself at Eddie.

“I’m sorry I upset you,” Richie whines, and Eddie is shocked to realise that he’s practically on the verge of tears.

“You do know I was crying about my kids, right? Not anything you said?” Eddie responds, voice serious.

“But I called you short!” Richie wails, looking so devastated that Eddie finds it so hard not to bark out a laugh.

“… I know I’m short?”

“But you ran awaaaaaay”

“One of the kids had eaten too much and had thrown up, Bev needed me to clean up the vom!”

Richie’s face shifts from sorrow to confusion to realisation to embarrassment at the speed of sound.

“so you don’t hate me?” Richie asks, tentatively.

Eddie pulls himself out of Richie’s arms and strokes his chin thoughtfully, “I mean … I don’t hate you but my neighbours might”

“Neighbours schmaybors, so you really aren’t offended that I called you short?”

Eddie lets himself laugh at that, “how drunk are you?”

Richie shrugs. “I had some wines. I was drowning my sorrows! I honestly thought I’d offended you and I was ready to scream apologies into this thing for hours,” he says, waving the megaphone for emphasis

“You’re such a nerd,” Eddie teases, prodding at Richie’s chest with an extended finger, and Richie sweeps him up in his arms.

“Yeah, but I’m your nerd”

“I guess you are”

Richie ducks his head, and Eddie closes his eyes in anticipation but their lips never connect.

“Hey! I have a great line for this situation”

“Oh Jesus Christ”

“I wish I was your derivative so I could lie tangent to your curves”

“You NERD”

#reddie #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak #acute-y #math teacher au #school au #teacher au #thefutureisbright #ao

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grownups-are-the-real-monsters · 5 years ago

Text

We’ve Got Tonight

Summary: He’d managed to keep the secret to himself and away from his friends. Nobody questioned the Bruce Springsteen poster he remembered adding to his bedroom shortly after the summer. He just loved music and good ol’ Springsteen....The Boss was an American symbol...and a better one than Goddamn apple pie.

Ships: Reddie

Inspired by this song: We’ve Got Tonight - Bob Seger

Word Count: 7,353

It was late. God, it was really late.

Would the noise of his screeching wheels wake them up? Richie couldn’t really decide. His long ass legs were crunched up against the side of his car so he could rest his elbow on the door. He sported a bemused sort of grin but their was something disturbingly distorted about it. It was through no illusion or mind-game. Just the simple fact that in his anxiety, Richie was pressing his chin hard into his open palm and crumpling his skin.

The car seats were leather, originally they’d been an old kind of fabric. But that had been because his entire vehicle was actually new and shiny. The fabric seating suited his old and dusty piece of shit car. There’d been quite a few stains here and there which was mostly from the fact that he’d taken the console extension outta that one...so no cup-holders. But bye-bye disgusting and long past fixable console. He used to be forced to hold his steaming coffee every morning on his way to work which was never a smooth event. But as lady luck would have it, before he could replace the damn thing, Richie got himself a steady gig with a good flow of money. So the whole damn car changed.

He got a little smug about it too. It would’ve been hard not to. Nothing felt better than driving it on a sunny day to a job where people seemed to appreciate him. He’d drum his hands all over the wheel to the Beach Boys and think about the jokes he was going to tell. Of course, ideally, the material would be his own but...you gotta do what you gotta do to earn the money, huh? So he put up with it. He was succeeding that way and who knew if people would think he was funny all on his own? Why else would it be suggested he read outta someone else’s joke book repertoire? ‘He was class clown funny, not household name...stand-up comic funny’. He never was gonna let that comment go, it seemed. He regurgitated it all the damn time to remind himself that’s what outsiders thought.

The Loser’s laughed. In fact, Ol’ Beverly Marsh almost choked on her dinner when he’d managed an impression. Man, that had made him feel good and it only spurred him on. But no amount of laughter or fond memories could make him really want to stay and do what Mike was talkin’ about. It did not outweigh the kind of memories buried deep inside him that triggered that hot load of vomit after the phone-call.

The kind of memories that he wanted to stay buried. Needed, even.

Mike had been right-which was nothing knew apparently. Richie sighed, pushing his head back into the seat. He wanted to drive away. Leave Derry in his dust just like he’d done so long ago. He wouldn’t mind the trip. He actually really enjoyed road-trips. Before he’d shot down the high-way to get back here, Richie had breakfast at some shitty little truck-stop diner place. The waitress had tried to talk him into an apple pie for dessert....‘you wont regret it’ she’d said with a wink. He denied the offer but she still came back with the plate. ‘On the house’. The napkin she’d served it on had her number smeared across the width in blue pen.

He usually kept those kinds of things, just never did anything with em’. He’d kid himself by saying it was a cheap shot and not the kind of way he’d liked to be hit on. But maybe it was more about the kind of person.

Who was he kidding? What a damn joke. The minute he set his eyes upon Eddie fucking Kaspbrak again....he was faced with that other buried piece of trauma.

It was about the person and he didn’t even fucking like apple pie. Who really wants fruit in their dessert anyway?

Richie smacked his forehead against the steering wheel as if that might knock the memories outta his head. But they lingered there still.

He’d been such a moron. Overcompensating with dirty jokes and ‘pulling his pigtails’ because how else would a clueless kid flirt with someone he barely even knew he was flirting with? Eddie would be none the wiser if Richie messed with him. He’d just roll his eyes and bicker with him...not guessing for a second that Richie was dying a little every-time Eddie touched him.

But what was in the past was in the past, right? He had always craved attention and laughter, so he had just been confusing the joy he got from Eddie’s for a ‘crush’. Simple.

But more and more memories came to him when he had hit Derry. Begging himself to stop noticing things about other boys while he tried to pick out a damn box from the cereal aisle like a normal kid. But the boy by the Kix had given him a friendly smile and Richie’s stomach had flipped. Enough so that he picked out a box of Kix which was dumb because that cereal was shit. Was not sugary enough for any kid’s taste.

He could remember the early days of his crush now. Laying on his stomach on the carpeted floor of the Kaspbrak bedroom. They’d usually be reading comics or some shit and Richie would notice the way Eddie’s lips moved even though he wasn’t reading out-loud. There’d be a wave of butterflies before an awful feeling of embarrassment would take over. He’d always feel ashamed and gross whenever Eddie would glance up at him, having been oblivious to his internal dilemma. So he’d shove it down and never talk about it.

Which he’d done. 100% successfully too...though there had been a couple hiccups. A few traumatizing insults were thrown. But he’d managed to keep it to himself and away from his friends. Nobody questioned the Bruce Springsteen poster he remembered adding to his bedroom shortly after the summer. He just loved music and good ol’ Springsteen....The Boss was an American symbol...and a better one than Goddamn apple pie.

Richie gagged a little and sat up once more, curling his hands tighter around the wheel.

He’d really expected nothing to come of these memories because they were stupid and childish. And shit he didn’t even remember until he got into town.

But then he strolled into that restaurant and his eyes found him immediately. Eddie Kaspbrak. All he had to do was look at him and despite having a good ass excuse...Richie had been wondering just how he managed without him. Any defense he had against this (which was none because he really assumed that it wasn’t a big deal) failed. In an instant, he was wrapped around Eddie’s finger once more.

After all these fucking years Richie was still crazy about him. Absolutely gone on him. Which was just...another wonderful thing to add to the list of shitty things going on.

He wasn’t sure what he was planning on doing, sitting in his car in the middle of the night with his bags still packed. But there was an obvious option that was teasing him. ‘Just drive away. Find a nice Rock station and drive off.’

But he couldn’t actually bring himself to do it. But he had shifted it to drive a few times only to go right back into park before he could actually move. He was starting to hate himself.

At some point he was going to have to make a decision or sleep in his car. He stared at the stars hanging above his view and felt that sense of insignificance. Usually that would be a daunting feeling but tonight...it was kind of comforting. Because hell, his life was such a small dot in the universe. For the first split second since returning to Derry, Richie didn’t feel the weight of the world on his shoulders. Nothing fucking mattered.

But he could die tomorrow. Richie sighed for the millionth time and clasped his hand around the door handle. There was tonight but...after that? Who knew. Man, he wouldn’t be surprised if Pennywise danced on over to the outside of his car. Waiting to corner him.

His stomach dropped. ‘Shit, if he died...’ Richie audibly hiccuped because ‘What a miserable last few years.’ Barely a day back ‘home’, surrounded by strangers who were really his best friends...and he was already dreading the fucking loneliness waiting for him if he made it out alive. ‘Which was the scarier option here, huh?’

Eddie’s face popped back into his mind and now was not the time to get himself worked up....not in that way. Richie shook his head and immediately thought about the ol’ dirty magazine that he used to have under his childhood bed just to get rid of that kind of thought. Which....was so strange. That was a defense mechanism so familiar to his younger years in Derry. Man, he hadn’t thought about the women in those pages in years. Yet the idea to cover up those dirty thoughts with that particular magazine was purely instinctual in the moment. God, everything was so strange.

And he was wasting gas. Richie sighed, turning his key and admitting to himself that as scared as he was right now, he could not pull the trigger and leave. But he was sort of hoping that he could work up the courage later on. The radio cut off in the middle of a good song and he hurled himself out of the vehicle. He tried to bury his previous idea of a threat waiting for him outside and quickly took the bag from out the back window and trudged back to the Townhouse.

There was no way in Hell that he was gonna get any sleep unless he unloaded the pile of shit that were the thoughts swimming in his head. His eyes fell upon Bill’s room, he remembered him being an excellent shoulder to cry on. Sturdy...and broad now.

Richie swallowed and set his beg against the wall, taking a few steps towards Bill’s door before realizing that he really didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of him. Another oddly familiar feeling.

He backed off and turned around. He ignored the brief but present way his mind flashed with ‘Stanley’ as an option because it hurt and unless he could contact his fucking ghost...he was outta luck.

As he turned back, unsure of where he was really going, he spotted Eddie’s door and halted. It felt like he got punched in the gut or something just from seeing the number on the door. He hated himself sometimes.

He really wanted to see Eddie right now. He stepped forward with purpose only to freeze once again because-‘What the Hell do I think I’m doing?’.

He had worked himself up into such a state that he was sort of afraid of what might pour out of his mouth just from locking eyes with Eddie. ‘But maybe that was a good thing.’ Richie stepped forward again. Maybe he could just allow all his built-up feelings to escape him and be done with it before it was too late.

‘But that would mean actually admitting to shit’ Richie moved back once more and curled his hands, pressing his nails into his palms with frustration. He felt like an idiot but damn, he was now aching to talk to Eddie...even just to make fun of each other. Something, anything.

He raised his first up to knock. He was just planning on maybe unloading his nerves and nothing more because he couldn’t handle looking like an idiot. He barely noticed that he was mumbling a very poor Stevie Wonder impression he’d been working on to himself . ‘I just knocked... to say I love you.’ His voice was soft and sing-songy-

The door opened before Richie had the chance to make contact and it wasn’t gentle either. The heavy door swung open and shocked both men enough for each of them to leap backwards.

“Fuck! Don’t ya know how to knock?” Richie smacked his hand to his chest and sighed.

Eddie’s brow quirked with a touch of confusion and amusement. “You’re in the hallway, Rich.”

The taller man stood up straighter and looked around like he’d forgotten his surroundings. Pale yellow wallpaper with freckles of brown designs were swallowing them whole. ‘Yup that’s the hall’ Richie shoved his glasses back up the slope of his nose and nodded. “Oh yeah.”

Eddie had the audacity to do one of those closed-mouth chuckles and lean on the door-frame.

‘I could die tomorrow...’ Richie swallowed.

“Did...-did you want something?” Eddie asked, glancing around his room with that cautious eye. Before Richie could answer, Eddie’s eyes landed on something Richie assumed was gross just by his facial expression. “Man, This place could stand to be deep cleaned.”

Richie opened his mouth.

“Seriously. A lot of disgusting people have been in here before me.” His nose twitched which was something he often did. It inflicted Richie with that same warm sense of comfort he’d had when they were all at the restaurant.

“That’s funny. I said that same thing to your mother-”

“Ha ha. You seekin’ me out to make these jokes now, asshole? I can see if we’re all hanging out but to come to my door-”

Richie shoved his hands into his pockets and raised his brow with amusement while Eddie worked himself up. “No, Eds. That’s obviously not why I’m here.” He chuckled and stood awkwardly at the door while Eddie shuffled about his room. ‘How else was he supposed to let out all his pent up rage and anxiety?’ Richie tilted his chin down and rolled his lips together to keep from grinning because ‘Fuck. Even now...Eddie just gets to me.’

“Why did you come here, exactly?” He held kicked one of the blankets off his bed and sighed. He blinked at the thing like it depressed him before he quirked his head to glance at his friend. “And why are you just standing there? It’s creepy. You used to invite yourself into my room all the time, what’s the problem now-?”

They both paused and when Richie moved to just change the topic with a joke or something, Eddie snapped his fingers. “Yeah...you did do that. I remember.” He smiled, the kind of smile that was riddled with nostalgia and joy.

He just looked so damn proud of himself for remember it. Richie slowly strolled inside and hoped the giddiness wasn’t showing on his face. “Yeah. Getting to the second floor window was not an easy feat for a gangly kid like me, you know?” He rubbed a curled finger under his nose and unearthed a shy sorta giggle that hadn’t been used in years. He intended to add more to the story but found himself choking on the words when Eddie curled onto his bed, legs in the criss-cross position while his hands clasped in his lap. He looked up at Richie with such a genuinely relieved look. A look that said that if Richie went on, Eddie would be happily lifted from the horrors of their lives events. Just for this impermanent moment. It was something he would’ve killed for as a kid, to know that he was actually providing enjoyable entertainment. But right now it was suddenly too much responsibility for him so Richie clamped his mouth shut.

Eddie paused for a minute, as if giving Richie a chance to go on if he wanted to and the want for him to continue was clear in Eddie’s eyes...but Richie remained shockingly silent. “So, did you want something?”

Richie swung his hands back and forth a few times before awkwardly slapping them together and clasping them over his chest. “Yeah, sorry to bother you so late...I just...” He took a deep breath and forced himself to chill out and take a seat on the chair nearby.

Eddie scooted to the edge of his bed looking a little concerned which was only furthering Richie’s embarrassment.

“Where were you going, by the way?” Richie stuck his thumb out to point at the door where they’d first scared each other to death just a few moments ago. “I know you have a weak bladder so if it was the bathroom, this conversation can wait-”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Of course you remember that about me.” He scoffed and shuffled on the bed. “No asshole. I was just...” He waved his hand around and Richie began to think that maybe he knew what Eddie was gonna do.

“You were gonna leave too, huh? You put your-what like ten bags?-in your car earlier? You were gonna get outta dodge, huh?” Richie was teasing but he knew as soon as it came out of his mouth that Eddie was offended.

“No. I wasn’t leaving. I was just gonna go for a walk.”

“Alone? In the middle of the night? I don’t know, Eds. Doesn’t sound like you-”

“I just needed to clear my head...and honestly, I’ll start overthinking all this shit if I’m not constantly moving at the speed of light.” Eddie chuckled but he meant it. The man had never been good at settling himself down. He crossed his arms and sighed. “Anyway, you still haven’t told me why you’re here...?”

The air in the room grew thinner, at least to Richie who was trying very hard not to appear so nervous. He sucked in his breath and leaned his forearms onto his thighs. “I haven’t really decided on a reason for showing up yet-...” He glanced up at Eddie’s watchful stare and that same damn thought came up. ‘I could die tomorrow.’

There was so much Richie wanted to say but he barely comprehended it all himself. “How’s your life been?”

The question seemed to throw his friend completely off his rhythm. Eddie sat up straighter and thought about it for a few seconds. “I mean...-it’s been successful-”

“Are you happy?” Richie blurted before realizing how invasive he must’ve sounded. He scooted back and fixed his own posture. “Sorry. I’m not so great at...asking appropriate questions. I’m sure you remember that.” He laughed, swiping a finger under his nose again. Eddie opened his mouth but Richie had stopped looking at him.

“I only ask because...I don’t...I don’t think I’ve been very happy.” He was still laughing but it was edging close to self-deprecating. “I didn’t even really notice that until I got here. In Derry. The most miserable town that I’ve ever seen. Isn’t that fucking funny?”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Rich-?”

“Being with you guys again has been just about the most genuinely happy that I’ve been in years. Paired right up with the most scared I’ve ever been but...I digress.” He sighed and finally looked up at Eddie again. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen tomorrow but I’m trying to decide if it’s worse to die or to have to go back to...an empty life, y’know?”

“Don’t say that Rich-”

“It’s true.” He shrugged. “But it’s stupid-...it’s fine. I didn’t mean to come dump this all on you.” He slapped his knees with a tiny grin and stood. He planned on leaving before he could make an even bigger fool of himself but Eddie had crawled to the other end of the bed with his good ol’ lightening speed and grabbed his arm with a startling amount of strength.

“It’s fine. Richie...we’re all freaking out here.” He tugged his arm in a genuinely concerned way that nearly broke Richie’s heart then and there. “I’d like to talk some more, if that’s ok? This is a lot.”

Ahhh that was a trick Richie remembered too well. He wasn’t a person who liked to talk about himself and he never was. But if Eddie ever detected a problem, he used to like to pretend to turn the conversation around because actually he wanted to talk. But it was just a way to allow Richie to feel like it was ok to open up because it wasn’t really all about him. ‘No-seriously, I want to talk about it Richie’. Eddie used to say.

But damn, he was gonna fall for it again. “Ok, Kaspbrak.” He shrugged and shoved Eddie over to take up half the bed. He most definitely ignored the man’s triumphant grin. He picked at a loose thread on his shirt.

Eddie tilted his head back, chin pointed to the sky but when he did one of those breathy sighs, it slowly fell forward again. And then he turned to look at his friend. Richie felt some alarms going off in his head. It was strangely too intimate. “I’m married, have a good job, I’m successful...” He trailed off “But...there’s something strangely unsatisfying about it all. Like you said...it didn’t completely stand out to me until I got here.”

Richie bit his lip. “Any idea why?”

“Well, Mike did say the longer we stay-”

“No, no...I mean...why it’s not satisfying?” Richie hoped to anything that would listen that he didn’t sound annoying again.

Eddie thought that over. “I don’t really know.”

Richie felt a flutter of disappointment that he couldn’t quite place.

“Myra...she’s just like my mom, y’know?” He scratched under his chin and gave a bitter laugh. “I can really pick em’, huh?” He bumped their arms together.

“Jesus, Eds. You got some pointy frickin’ elbows.” the little insults would honestly never stop but Eddie didn’t seem to mind much. He just dug his elbow in harder.

“Would you stop calling me that?”

“Oh, you love it Eds.” He pushed Eddie’s elbow away again and held back a chuckle as he pushed his glasses up.

“You ever think about contacts?” Eddie’s voice was suddenly soft and curious. It oddly felt somewhat like a sleepover. Not that Richie thought he could stay-no! Just...that same sort of hushed energy was there between them as they sat on the bed together. He hummed.

“Why ya askin’? Think it’s a bad look?” He laughed but there was a strange insecure tone bleeding into it.

“No...” He shrugged and turned away for a few seconds and Richie was highly aware he wanted the attention back.

“I had a guy once...I was on the bus, right? And this dude-took my fucking glasses off and stepped on em’” He waved his arm and made sure to leave enough of the story desired. Eddie’s eyebrows crinkled when their faces met again.

“What did you do to him?”

Richie rolled his eyes. “He’d been playing the saxophone. So I started to do that thing where you...pretend to play?” He moved his hands up to his mouth and made a sound that more closely represented a trumpet. “I think you used to whistle like that? With your hands up...” He did it again but whistled this time. Eddie grinned. “Anyway, not important to the story.” He shoved his hands back down.

“So he got pretty upset-”

“Understandably so.” Eddie felt the need to add with a cheeky little grin and Richie clicked his tongue.

“Yeah. And so he just sets the instrument down and thunders over. He literally just reaches out and...” Richie took off his glasses and illustrated his point. “No hesitation but he goes right back to playing. And he’s like-staring me down-not blinking- the rest of the time he’s playing right? Only I can’t fucking see it cause he’s halfway down the bus and my glasses are shattered. But the dude on my right is describing it to me.”

Eddie is full on laughing and Richie is in minutes bliss. “Sounds like a weird guy.”

“Yeah. But I like that kinda stuff. Make for good bits...” He sighed. “I mean, for a person who maybe writes their own material.” He added with a bitter tone.

“Why don’t you...? Write your own stuff, I mean?” Eddie rubbed his finger against the side of his nose. His voice got that sleepover tone again.

“Ehhhh well.” Richie shrugged, not sure how to answer him. "That’s show business for you baby.” He did some kinda funky old man voice but bled it back into his own “Nah, I mean...just kinda got told one day that I was more of a class clown then a stand-up comic. So if I ever wanted to be a name then I’d better switch it out.”

He pretended that he wasn’t bothered and he figured maybe Eddie won’t notice. Hell, it’d been a long time and they barely remembered each other but he knew.

“Maybe when this is all over, you can remedy that. Don’t let it get to your head but you always made me laugh.” He poked his arm gently. “I bet it helps you fix some of that emptiness you mentioned.” He was putting on that gentle tone like he was a bit hesitant to bring that up again.

Richie’s stomach dropped a tiny bit. “Maybe some of it.” He wanted to say ‘Life doesn’t work that way, Eds. I can’t just pull that off’ but he just rolled his lips together.

"What else do you think is causing it?”

Richie scoffed. “Doctor K is a therapist now, huh?” He bumped their arms together again but his friend only rolled his eyes.

“Shut-up asshole. I’m just trying to help.” He bit back but softened down again almost immediately. “It’s a concerning thing to hear from someone you care about, is all.” His shoulders shrugged and dragged against the wall.

“Eddie we didn’t even remember each other yesterday.”

“That’s not fair and you know it.” Eddie scowled.

“Yeah, sorry.” Richie sighed, his shoulders gradually coming down for a moment’s relaxation. The room went silent again and he found his eyes tracing the furniture and objects thrown about the place. Eddie’s jacket was neatly caressing the top of the desk chair but his two of his suitcases were chaotically opened and laying on the floor. “Man, twenty-seven years. Where’d the time go?” Richie mumbled, mostly to himself. It was the strangest thing...to feel like time had passed them too quickly yet not truly being able to recall much of those old fuzzy memories which seemed so far gone.

“I don’t know.” Eddie glanced at him again.

Richie felt a mixture of feelings but mostly....‘To quote Paul Simon, Still crazy after all these years...'

“How much do you remember, Eds?” He heard himself ask. That pitiful sense of curiosity rose inside of him again.

Eddie stopped fiddling with his hands and paused for thought, his face twisting a little bit. “Right now?...Mostly just feelings. More so than specific memories, you know?” He shrugged, spinning his thumbs around each other.

Richie swallowed. “Yeah-yeah, me too.” He was searching for more of Eddie’s answer before the man could even speak again. He watched the way his eyes fell down to his hands whenever he got nervous. “Being scared shitless is the big one at the moment, I’m guessing?”

Eddie nodded but didn’t look to please about it.

“Anything else?” Richie hoped he didn’t sound desperate but there was something he wanted to have an answer for.

“Love...for you guys?” Eddie added, looking like it was maybe embarrassing him a little bit to be saying it out-loud. Richie really didn’t want to look like an asshole by asking for something more specifically about him. So maybe it was best to just let it go and move on back to his room to get a good power nap in before they went and did whatever the hell Mike was trying to explain.

‘But I could fucking die tomorrow.’ That was his mantra, wasn’t it? “Eddie. I got to tell ya something, man.��

Eddie shuffled a bit closer, bringing up his knee and smiling softly. “I’m assuming it’s the reason you came here?”

Richie nodded and took a deep breath. He could tell it was unsettling his friend a bit to see him so serious. “I just wanna say all...-all the shit that’s on my mind so please don’t interrupt-”

“I won’t.”

Richie raised a brow, a tiny smirk on his face despite his overwhelming nerves.

“Oops, sorry. Not anymore, promise.” Eddie held his hands up in mock surrender.

“Ok.” Richie smoothed the palms of his hands down his jeans and tried to work up enough courage to go on. “Listen...Mike was saying that the longer we stay, the more we remember, right?-” Richie couldn’t help but tease Eddie a bit by pausing.

Just as he suspected, Eddie had some sort of internal struggle of wanting to respond but remembering that Richie asked him not to interrupt.

But when he realized Richie was just messing with him, he rolled his eyes. “Keep going, asshole.”

He chuckled and reached out to playfully pinch his arm. “Anyway, part of the reason that I’m being such a downer right now is that yeah I’ve realized how fucking lonely it is back home but I’m also sorta remembering why that might be.”

He stopped again because to be completely honest, he wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to continue this.

“You and me. Do you remember what we were like?”

Eddie rolled his lips together and smirked. It made Richie’s heart flutter just from the sight of it. “Yeah. We were annoying.” There was a great sense of fondness in his tone. “All the bickering and shit. You loved to torture me, don’t think I forgot that.” Eddie giggled. An actual real giggle that Richie couldn’t believe.

He opened his mouth, expecting this to be hard. He expected that he’d have to choke the words up but when face with Eddie’s sincere joy...it wasn’t that bad. “Yeah, Eds. I really fucking liked you.”

Eddie stopped suddenly, his body stiffening and Richie tried not to take it personally. “What do you mean?”

“Look...I know it’s the middle of the Goddamn night and you probably want to go back to sleep but...” Richie moved his eyes to the ceiling because he’d sure look like an idiot if there were tears. “This is all so overwhelming. I couldn’t have even recognized your name yesterday and now...” He gestured to the man with his open palm before letting it fall back into his lap.

He pushed his glasses up his nose and chuckled bitterly. “I had the biggest crush on you, Eddie.” He waved his hands because this was starting to become more funny to him. Eddie staring at him with blank confusion, his bubbling nerves and the fact that a murder clown was responsible for so much pain in his life. “It’s all coming back to me the more I look at ya...Man, that’s rich, isn’t it?”

Eddie’s face was the picture of complete confusion. “You had a crush on...me?”

Richie nodded. “Yeah! Oh man, I used to...like....you know...” He paused, wiggling his fingers in the air as if trying to scramble together a memory. He snapped his fingers. “Listen to Springsteen or some shit alone in my room and think about you and me runnin’ from Derry together and being...I dunno like a couple? It’s lame and a little too ‘Jack & Diane’ for my taste now but I did that. Can you believe it?” He thought about that perfect symbol of an American teen couple from Mellencamp’s famous tune and a flash of some strapping statue came to his mind. He thought it might be that of the ol’ legendary Paul Bunyon fella in town. A deep and awful feeling of fear overtook him for a second but he couldn’t quite remember why.

He clicked his tongue with a laugh, feeling heat in his cheeks like some silly kid. “I’d do all that but then I’d see you and...tell you I fucked your mom and tease you because I was a little shit.”

Eddie was quiet...very quiet for a few seconds. “I didn’t know that you were-”

“Yeah. That’d be because I didn’t want anyone to know.” Richie cut him off and regretted a bit of the bitterness tone. “It was a secret.” He rubbed his forehead. “I was just...since I can’t remember it all, I wondered if...” He stopped because he was far too embarrassed to continue.

“Oh.” Eddie grabbed his own ankle and softly gasped.

“I’m sorry, Eds. I’m just gonna...” He stuck his thumb over his shoulder and pointed to the door before hoping off the bed. He barely made it an inch before his arm was snagged and he was pulled back with that same strength. He fell back onto the bed.

“No, Rich. Don’t leave. We gotta talk. You can’t just walk out after that.”

Richie felt his throat close a little at the idea of Eddie letting him down easy. He’d really rather just walk out and pretend this didn’t even happen. “I don’t have anything else to say. That was...it. And it was way too much.” He shook his head and scooted backwards when Eddie shuffled over.

He immediately wanted to defend himself. “It’s just that we could all very well end up dead tomorrow and I just had to let this out before...everything goes down. I don’t want to die with all this shit still built up, you know? I just needed to know if it was just me which it clearly was. So I’m good now-” He tried to smile but Eddie was obviously not going to buy that.

“Richie, I’m gonna talk now, ok?” He teased but it was obvious that he was worried he might not be able to get a word in. So, Richie shut it.

But things went quiet again as Eddie played with the loose blanket threads between their fingers. “Eds, you gonna start or-?”

He expected the man to slap him playfully again or just straight up tell him to shut his mouth but instead, Eddie just glanced up and sighed so delicately amused and fond. He grinned and moved his hand from the blanket to flick Richie’s hand. “I can’t remember if I ever thought about...us like that, you know?” Eddie tilted his head and moved his eyes to their hands. He continued to lightly tap Richie’s skin as he spoke. “But I can’t for sure say that I never did. There’s something so familiar about...” He gestured to the space between them. He had that unsure look on his face and Richie nodded a few times.

“Yeah, that’s-...It’s what I’m feeling too.” He felt himself smile, it was hopelessly admiring. Eddie opened and closed his mouth a few times before pulling his hand back so he could nervously play with his thumbs like before. “What’s the matter? Is it too much? Should I go?”

Eddie bit the inside of his cheek. “No, it’s just-” He shook his head and leaned back on the wall. His palm moved to rub against his neck, another nervous tick. “I wanted to maybe try something but I don’t want to end up...leading you on or something.”

Richie almost let out one of those breathy little sighs of complete yearning but was able to stop himself. “I wouldn’t mind.” He blurted but Eddie just crossed his arms.

“You’d think that but-”

“I gotta know, Eds. For sure. If this helps you...come to a conclusion then by all means, go for it.”

“You sure about that?”

He nodded because he’d do anything that Eddie wanted. Richie geared himself up for Eddie to decided against and he’d take that because it was probably the right thing to do.

But Eddie shuffled closer, knees planted firmly on the bed so he could lift himself just slightly above Richie. The other man was so deliriously happy about it that he could hardly move. Eddie tilted Richie’s chin up with one finger and brought their lips together. It was soft and a little unsure of itself in the beginning but then that one finger under his chin turned into Eddie’s whole hands caressing the sides of his face with one very pleasing slow glide motion against his stubble.

Richie wasn’t sure how long it lasted but he had to stop himself from chasing it when Eddie pulled back and fell back onto the bed.

“Wow.” was all the man could say and Richie had to agree with that sentiment. Eddie leaned back on the wall and shook his head. “That’s what that shit is supposed to feel like...ok.” He was speaking to himself, in that speedy little voice of his and Richie felt a tug in his chest. “I don’t think-...I mean...I never thought about that. With Myra it’s, well nothing like that.”

“Are you ok over there, man?” Richie chuckled but he was still rather dizzy and giddy. ‘It was stupid.’

Eddie looked back at Richie like he’d nearly forgotten he was there. He reached over to his nightstand, opened his drawer and pulled out his inhaler. Richie stopped his urge to roll his eyes when he took a puff. “I have a wife.”

Richie looked down, eyes a little misty. “Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.”

Eddie crawled back over and took his old seat right next to Richie again. “Rich, I’m glad you came tonight.”

Richie put on an expression that clearly displayed that he didn’t quite believe that.

“I’m not kidding, asshole. And I’m not just trying to spare your feelings.” His voice was tiny and soft. “I told you before...there’s been something so unsatisfying about my life. I just couldn’t put my finger on it, you know?”

Richie’s stomach was turning from pure nerves and hopeless excitement. He took Eddie’s hand so quickly that it surprised even himself. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen to us tomorrow Eds, that shit is terrifying.” He squeezed their grip. “But we have tonight. That’s something, right?”

Eddie nodded so Richie softly moved his hand to his cheek. “I’ll do anything you want. You want me to leave and I’ll go. You want me to pretend this didn’t happen, I will. A hundred percent, alright?” he stroked the side of his face and Eddie nodded again. “But...I can stay, if you for some reason think that I’m worth it.”

Eddie didn’t look too pleased with the self-deprecation but he spoke a strong “I want you to stay” and kept his eyes locked on Richie’s. It was enough to elicit an involuntary freakin’ giggle on Richie’s part.

He was embarrassed for a solid second or two when Eddie laughed but it was remedied when the man ruffled Richie’s hair. “Fuck. I can’t believe I forgot you.” He narrowed his eyes and gave him an appreciative stare which almost made Richie blush.

He leaned in and they found their way back to gentle kisses and hesitant touching. It was a comforting and warm feeling that neither of them really wanted to let go of.

“Eddie, man.” Richie backed off for a few seconds. “I know that you probably got plans and all for...dealing with all this clown business. But I was thinkin’, you know for these last few seconds-” He laughed, making fun of how much of an idiot he was going to sound. “How great would it be if we just...” He gestured his hand towards the window and Eddie followed with that puppy-dog expression. “What if we just ran off, the two of us?”

“You mean just leave...in the middle of the night?” Eddie wiggled a bit from his position on Richie’s lap.

Richie nodded and closed his eyes when Eddie laid his palms against his neck. “It’s just a thought. I mean, It’s stupid. Horribly stupid. And not a well thought out plan, I know but...” He opened his eyes again and found Eddie’s eyes which were wide and shaky. It broke him a little. “The two of us in one car for several hours...what could go wrong, huh?” He laughed but Eddie only frowned. “I ruined it, didn’t I?”

“No-no, You didn’t ruin it.” Eddie chuckled, moving his hand up to brush some of Richie’s hair back.

“I’m such an idiot for even suggesting it. You got a life and-I’m just being really clingy.” Richie tried to shift Eddie off of him but the man wasn’t allowing it. “It’s just that I’m really fucking happy right now and I don’t want that to go away, you know?”

“I know.” Eddie agreed. “I’d love to just pack my shit and leave. This is all too much to handle and I’m not sure I can face that clown again, Rich-”

“You can. I know you.” Richie blurted and Eddie smiled. “I’d just rather you didn’t-we didn’t.” He shrugged and Eddie pushed up his glasses for him.

“I’d love to run out in the middle of the night with you on what-? at least a half tank of gas?”

“Oh, much less. I hate stopping for gas.” Richie chuckled and Eddie licked his lips.

“But you know, as well as I do, that we gotta stay.” He knitted his fingers together against the back of Richie’s neck and sighed.

“You’re always right. I remember that too.” Richie scowled and Eddie kissed his forehead.

“But it’s like you said...we’ve got tonight-”

“The suns gonna be up soon-”

“We can make it last, Rich.” He sounded so sure of himself that Richie had to believe him.

They fell together once more and sleepily melted into the bed as they explored each other. Richie had been right, the sun would be creeping up very soon and it would be time to move on. But for now, the men were just enjoying their time alone together.

When they took the time to rest, Richie curled up against the smaller man which might’ve been extremely funny to him if he weren’t so desperate for touch, Eddie spoke up. “What about after the clown business?” He whispered, dragging his fingers down Richie’s arm which was wrapped around his waist.

Richie picked up his head from where it had been resting on his chest. “What about it?”

“You and me...? I mean, what if we...” Eddie paused.

“I’d be willing, if you were.” Richie didn’t want to answer as fast as he did but ‘man oh man’ he was just about dying to scream a loud ‘yes’.

“It’s risky...and I’d know.” Eddie laughed at his own little joke before pursing his lips. “Can I give you an answer after all the scary shit is through?”

Richie chuckled and nodded against Eddie’s chest. “Yeah. ‘Course you can.”

They laid together in comfortable silence for what felt like a long time. Occasionally, Eddie would run his hands through Richie’s hair and drag his fingers up and down his arm. When Richie hesitantly snuggled closer, Eddie dropped his hand to smoothly remove his glasses for him. “Don’t wanna risk breaking them again, huh?”

Richie was blissfully drifting to sleep.

-------------------------------------------------

The night had ended and tomorrow came, bring with it some of the worst trauma Richie could imagine. And he never did get an answer from Eddie before...

Richie desperately tried to remember the good times while he re-carved their initials on the bridge. But he bitterly kept thinking about how Eddie never even knew that he did this. He’d been right before. They did have that night. And that night only.

He finished his work on the ‘E’ and admired it for a few seconds.

He’d remember that night for the rest of his life. Not only had he been given the chance to lay with the one he loved but...he didn’t feel fucking ashamed about it. And maybe one day, if it wasn’t too painful, he could stop longing for love lost...and find it within his heart to search for it again.

#is this good???#idk #let me know #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #my fanfiction #oneshot #send me an ask if you like it??#im scared lol #it's been a hot minute #the losers club #it chapter 2 #it chapter 2 spoilers

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90simaginesandfanfics · 5 years ago

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Cradle Broken Glass - Chapter Sixty One

“For fucks sake!!” Layla screamed in frustration as she pulled the zipper up of the dress she was supposed to wear to dinner. Apparently it had looked nice in the store, but standing in front of her mirror now, she was beyond pissed that she’d even paid for it. She was still coming off the high from buying the perfect bridesmaid dress that she had gone shopping again the week after. But clearly it wasn’t working out for her.

“Let me pick something out for you. I know you have plenty of things you look great in.” Ash called from the other side of the bedroom door and Layla sighed before turning around to open it and letting her over enthusiastic friend into the room. She was soon twisting her way through the wardrobe while Layla sat on the bed watching her, still completely caught up in her own mind.

She was going to see him tonight, and she wasn’t fucking ready.

Not one bit.

Shortly after they had picked up the bridesmaid dresses, Ash had told her that her and Jeff were planning on taking the whole wedding party out for dinner the week after so that they could all have a good time and discuss anything last minute. She wanted it to be a mini-celebration before the wedding.

And a celebration it would be indeed.

It would celebrate how fucking pathetic Layla was for still caring what Eddie thought about her.

It was why she was so stressed about finding something to wear. She knew she needed to look good for the wedding, but she needed to look amazing tonight as well. She needed to act like she didn’t care and that her life was going amazing without him. She had decided to take Jeff’s advice and simply be indifferent, but that was going to be hard since she had no idea what he was going to do. Act like nothing had ever happened? Ignore her? Try to make awkward conversation? It was all a bit too fucking much.

“What about this? You’ve never worn this and it will make you look like a fucking bombshell.” Ash called out and Layla turned her head to see her holding up a black midi dress, with a sweetheart neckline. However, it had turtleneck and long sleeves made out of mesh. It was something she had bought while on tour with Nine Inch Nails. She has needed to buy something more dark and seductive to attend some of the dinner meetings in, since Trent insisted that if everyone dressed in a similar fashion to him, then they would intimidate all the corporate assholes that had called the meeting. And it had worked. But looking at the dress now, she couldn’t help but feel like it would look good on anyone but her.

She made eye contact with Ash, but her best friend simply threw the dress at her, before telling her to be ready in five minutes and then left the room. She put the dress on as well as some tall black pumps, and glanced at herself in the mirror, her mouth tilting into an almost smile as she took in her appearance, not completely dissatisfied with what she was seeing.

Her and Ash were going to be late anyway. Might as well make a grand entrance.

*****

The restaurant was packed as they walked through it. Layla felt out of place in such a high class place, but she knew that she at least looked the part. They had booked a concealed table in the private part of the section so that no one would interrupt the dinner and they could eat in peace, something she was grateful for. The last thing she needed was rabid female fans throwing themselves at Eddie in front of her.

“Babe, over here!” The sound of Jeff’s voice rang out and they turned to where it had come from. Layla kept her eyes trained on Jeff as she approached the table with Ash, not ready to look at anyone else, and hoping that by keeping her head held high she would look like she had her shit together. She could feel everyone’s eyes trained on her as Ash walked next to Jeff and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Geez, Layla, you look amazing.” Came a voice which she had missed. She turned to see Stone smiling at her and she mirrored his expression. At least now she could be confident in her appearance tonight.

“Thanks, Pebble. Haven’t seen you in a while.” She replied, almost kicking herself for mentioning the semi-estrangement she had from her friends. She walked closer to the table and sat in the seat he offered her, before turning and acknowledging Ash’s cousins, Sienna and Isabella, who, despite being teenagers, were bickering between each other like children. Her gaze then went to Mike, who smiled and told her how good it was to see her.

Finally, she turned to the man sitting across from her.

His hair had changed, it was shorter. It made her remember the day he had practically forced her to cut it, but she shook away the memory quickly, not wanting to feel nostalgic in the slightest. His hair now was just below his chin and less curly than it was before. His eyes were still as blue as they had been the day they’d met, and his eyebrows still creased together in the way she loved when he was concentrating on something. Overall, he looked amazing and it completely unnerved her. In fact it pissed her off. At least if he’d gained 100 pounds and injected himself with botox then she wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that she was still attracted to him.

Their eyes met and she gave him a nod, without a smile and he did so to, before looking away. Ignoring it was then. This evening was going to be fun.

A waitress came over shortly after and started taking everyone’s drink orders.

“Vodka and coke.” She ordered, knowing that she would need some liquid encouragement in order to survive the evening with dignity.

“Just water please.” Came the deep voice across from her. It caused her to clench her thighs together, even as a strange sense of sadness washed over her. She had forgotten what he sounded like. But then she looked up after she realised what he had said. He had ordered a water. Nothing alcoholic. The old Eddie would have never entered anywhere without a beer in his hand at least, so the fact that he wasn’t gave her a small sense of security, knowing that he wasn’t as bad as he used to be.

The night continued on, everyone having a good time. She didn’t feel as awkward around the Pearl Jam guys as she thought she would, but she noticed that there were always two separate conversations going on. One involved Eddie, one involved her, and neither of them attempted to talk to each other. But every now and then she could feel him looking at her out of the corner of her eye, and she was also making subtle glances his way.

Everyone finished up and Mike and Eddie got up to leave, saying goodbye to everyone. Ash soon turned to her and let her know that they were going to leave in a minute.

“I’m just going to go for a smoke first, if that’s alright?” She asked and her best friend nodded before turning back to her fiance. Layla walked to the side of the restaurant and asked the maitre’d where the exit to the side street was. Once she got that, she walked outside, closing the door behind her and taking in the cold around her. Seattle weather was a bitch. As she fished into her coat jacket for her pack of cigarettes and lighter, she heard someone shift their feet to the other side of her.

“You look good tonight.” Eddie said, leaning up against the wall of the restaurant with a half-finished cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Layla cursed herself for not checking if anyone was out here. She paused, not knowing how to respond to the compliment.

“I thought you’d left.” She finally settled on, knowing it sounded accusatory, but not caring at the minute. Eddie took another drag and puffed out.

“Mike’s still trying to get his car, apparently the valet messed up the number he was given.” He replied, still staring at her intently. She began smoking next to him, neither saying anything.

“Where did you go after you left California?” He asked all of a sudden, and Layla had to stop herself from choking on the smoke she breathed in at his question. She knew he meant when she left him and got on a plane. And she didn’t know how to respond.

“You know, cause I tried to find you everywhere but Ash would never tell me anything. Just curious, now that it’s all over and done with.” He continued, and she mentally flinched at the final part of his sentence.

“I stayed with Cindy for a while, then I got a job.” She replied awkwardly.

“What do you do now?”

“I’m a tour manager. Nine Inch Nails.” She replied, with more pride in her voice. She saw him take a quick breath and the surprised look on his face made her gloat. She wanted him to feel bad. She took one last drag and then squashed her cigarette on the floor with her shoes.

“Luckily, this time around I didn’t need to fuck the lead singer to get it.” She said and then turned around and stormed back into the restaurant, feeling his eyes on the back of her. She knew it was a low blow, but she wanted him to feel like shit, and she wanted him to know that she was doing just fine without him.

She walked back to the table and said her goodbyes before her and Ash left

*****

First time seeing each other since the breakup and I think there was just enough awkwardness to make it worth while. How do you feel about both Layla and Eddie and how they’ve changed? Put an ask in my inbox and let me know! Hope everyone is doing great and sending loads of love and positive vibes out there xxxx

#eddie vedder #Eddie Vedder Fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #Pearl Jam #pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #imagine #imagines #oneshot #fanfiction #fanfic #cradle broken glass #alice in chains #nirvana #soundgarden #90s #grunge #grunge fanfiction #grunge fanfic

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captainkippen · 6 years ago

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A History of Two • A Reddie Fic

Eddie Kaspbrak's first crush came in middle school. It was on his best (and only) friend, Big Bill Denbrough. Bill was the kind of boy who made everyone he spoke to feel special - a leader right down to his bones. He could have any friends he wanted in the whole world even with his stutter, that much Eddie was certain of, yet he still chose to hang around with the short asthmatic kid he'd met in the park when they were five. This was a mystery to Eddie who was not blind to the fact he wasn't exactly the coolest kid around.

He was on the smaller side size-wise. His mother, liked to call him 'delicate' while everybody else called him 'scrawny'. When he went outside he would be laden down with an aspirator and a fanny pack of medical supplies, and God help him if he came back with so much as a scratch on him or his mother would haul him down to the emergency room in a second. This had had the rather depressing effect of making Eddie a target for bullies.

At school, older boys would laugh and call Eddie names, they'd shove him around and sneer at him, often asking Bill if it got annoying having his little boyfriend following him around like a lovesick puppy all the time. Bill never laughed along with them. He never defended himself either - never yelled "I'm not gay!" or put deliberate space between himself and Eddie even though they both knew he'd have an easier time of it if he did - something which Eddie was eternally grateful for. Instead he'd flip those boys the bird then turn to Eddie and joke "Don't worry, I know you could do much better than me."

Eddie would smile back and roll his eyes, pushing down on the urge to blurt out how wrong he thought Bill was about that.

So for several years, it was just the two of them. Eddie would show Bill how to fix his bike the way he wanted all the while trying not to get oil on his pants so his mother wouldn't yell at him, and in return Bill would tell him stories as they worked. Bill's stories were wonderful - filled with adventure and friendship, dashing knights and beautiful maidens. Listening to them made Eddie's heart swell. Once on his birthday, Bill had gifted him a book of those same stories written down and Eddie could've sworn his heart would burst from joy. He wondered if he would ever stop loving Bill Denbrough.

The answer was yes and no because love changes, fluidly switching between romantic and platonic as it pleases with no concern for the heart to which it is attached. Eddie would grow to love Big Bill Denbrough as a brother while the romance in his heart fell to another.

Richie Tozier was nothing like Bill and he was even less like Eddie. He was a loud brash boy with coke-bottle glasses that made his eyes look almost comically wide. He met Bill in sixth grade who in turn introduced him to Eddie, much to Eddie's own dismay. In class he would often mouth off to teachers in a fashion that suggested he couldn't really help himself. This irked Eddie, but what irked him even more was the way that Richie would call him cute and laugh at his own jokes all the while telling him to lighten up when Eddie scowled. Sometimes he would pinch his cheeks or shorten his name to Eds, and even though Eddie did not believe in violence it would often end in him threatening to punch Richie.

So yes, Richie had the most annoying habit of grinding Eddie's gears like it was his full-time job. Consequently, Eddie spent several mornings complaining to Bill asking why they had to hang out with such a jerk, to which Bill would reply by saying Richie was cool when you got to know him. Eddie had his doubts.

Until...

"Hey, runt! You can't run from us!"

It's a good thing Eddie is so fast because it's the only reason he's managing to escape the wrath of Henry Bowers and his gang of miscreants right now. His legs carry him forward without him even thinking about it. All his focus is pointed towards getting away and surviving the afternoon.

It's a hot summer day, so hot that hazy little heat waves emanate from the surface of the sidewalks. When Eddie had left the house this morning he'd intended to head down to the Barrens, he and Bill's preferred place to play, thinking maybe the two of them (and probably Bill's kid brother George too) could play swords with some of the sticks they'd found last time. This was not to be the case though, as he learned when he knocked at the Denbrough's door. Bill and George had gone with their father to buy tools from the hardware store. Eddie didn't feel like waiting around for them to get back - Mrs Denbrough had offered a glass of milk but she always looked at him with such pity for reasons he didn't really understand and it made him uncomfortable. So he had politely declined and wandered off into town in search of something to do.

Unfortunately for him, Bowers and his gang had been looking for something to do too. As soon as they spotted him it became apparent that knocking him around would be amusement enough. Eddie had had enough sense to start sprinting.

He would have escaped entirely if it were not somebody stepping out of the corner shop door as he flies by it. The resulting collision is an epic mess of limbs and surprised shouts. When Eddie looks up he finds Richie staring back at him.

"Where's the fire, Eds?" He asks, then he spots Bowers coming towards them and his eyes widen. Quickly he's tugging Eddie up and they're running once again.

It seems hopeless. Pain shoots up Eddie's ankle and he thinks 'Oh God, another trip to the emergency room.' They're never going to get away. The gang is gaining on them now, all cruel laughter and insults, but then-

Richie kicks a dustbin backwards as they pass, he kicks it hard, and it goes flying into Bower's. There's a noise of pained rage but it's enough of a distraction for them to finally get away. The clanging and the yelling is joined by adult voices asking what the hell is going on out here, and when Eddie and Richie turn the corner they're free.

They head for Richie's house, he explains his parents aren't home, and when they get there Richie's fingers are tender as they wrap Eddie's ankle in ice.

"Gotta be more careful, Guv'na! Or 'em damn rascals 'll getcha!" He says with a cheerful smile as he pays Eddie's knee. It's what he calls his 'British Constable voice', which Eddie usually hates but this time it draws a laugh out of him.

It was in that moment that Eddie realised Richie's teasing words were not deliberate attempts to get a rise out of him but rather his own special, and slightly irritating, brand of affection. That was the first time he knew for sure that they had become real friends.

By eighth grade Eddie and Richie were no longer allowed to sit next to one another in class. In fact, they were often put on opposite sides of the room. In all honesty, this was through no fault of Eddie's. It was Richie who was unable to keep his mouth shut, and it was not Eddie's fault that the boy had a certain talent for making laughter bubble up inside him exploding in an unwanted burst of giggles. Richie remained unable to keep his mouth shut whether he was next to Eddie or not, but at least when they were apart he had less incentive to crack jokes every five seconds.

They may have been able to separate them in a classroom, but the teachers at Derry Middle School had no place preventing laughter on the playground and so it became normal for Eddie to watch the clock in class counting down the minutes until one became three for lunchtime. He, Richie and Bill would throw themselves down under the large oak tree on the playing field and share torn off pieces of sandwiches while pouring over the latest issues of their favourite comic books.

Eddie's mother did not like Richie. He was too loud for her aging ears and he had a tendency to knock things over by accident while gesturing. The Kaspbrak house was filled with many a delicate antique, or at least what Mrs. Kaspbrak liked to think of as antiques, and several had met their doom as a result of Richie's flailing limbs. Despite this, she was helpless to stop him from visiting because by that point Eddie and Richie had become EddieAndRichie, attached at the hip and seen everywhere together or not at all, and so she was forced to accept that desperately hiding her precious china when she heard footsteps coming up the porch was a tedious forever part of their lives.

Their group expanded from three to five and then on to seven when they hit high school. First to join them was Stan Uris, a neat bookish boy whom Bill had met through bird watching. He had a sneaky wit about him and enjoyed going on runs with Eddie in the morning. On group outings he began bringing along his friend Mike Hanlon, who up until recently had been home schooled. Mike gave the best advice and saw more reason than his friends, often getting them out of trouble. Eddie was grateful for his friendship.

Then along came Beverly Marsh and Ben Hanscom, two other regular victims of Bowers gang boredom. Beverly was fiesty and unafraid - she and Richie got along like a house on fire. Eddie was never sure which he felt for her more: envy or admiration. Probably the second one. He hoped it was the second one. Ben was sweet and spent many afternoons in Bill's garage with them building all sorts of strange structures. He looked at Bev like she was the sun and he would paint the skies for her. Eddie wondered if he realised she looked at him the same way or he was too blinded by his own low self-esteem to realise.

The group became his lifeline; the Loser's Club they called themselves. For the seven of them, weekends were filled with visits to the Aladdin, the local movie theatre, and picnics down at the Barrens. They would start campfires and have Bill tell stories. Richie would butt in with his terrible impressions and Ben would laugh so hard he got a stitch. Everything felt right when they were all together.

At some point during that time, though Eddie couldn't pinpoint exactly when, they had knit together and become a family of sorts. He loved them wholly and completely, and he knew they loved him back in a similar fashion. It was a blinding sort of unquestionable love, which is probably why it took so long for Eddie to realise what he felt for Richie was different for what he felt for the others.

It was in twelfth grade that Eddie Kaspbrak finally realised he was in love with Richie Tozier, and it hit him like a ton of bricks.

#reddie #it (2017)#it stephen king #not am #i don't know whether to continue this or not

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strigital · 6 years ago

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I WANNA HEAR ABOUT YOUR V if thats ok

you… you really do?

‘cause if that’s true then hell yes! (tbh i’d yell about my ocs from a top of a mountain if only anyone would listen)

heck, where do i even start? anyways, long ass post ahead!

BACKSTORY!

To makelong ass story somewhat short: Jax was raised by her big bro - Alek - and, for aslong as she could remember, she believed her brother’s explanation of theirlonely existence, which was that their parents were, simply put, a couple ofjerks not suited for a family life. By his words their dad was a borderline psychoborgtoo busy ripping implants out of people, while the mom was a dirtgirl tooaddicted to braindance to care for her kids. And when the young lad justcouldn’t take it anymore, he snatched his little sister out of bed and ran withher into the night so they could both start a new life. Jaxine never doubtedthe story, even if the way they lived always seemed kinda fishy - like they werein hiding - not to mention it was somewhat suspicious that her bro wouldconstantly “go to work” armed to the teeth.

Welp, turnsout that all of this was a lie (what a twist!). In truth, Jaxie’s dad was onehelluva Netrunner who got his bread by getting people into parts of the Netthat they had no legal access to and occasionally stealing a few files fromcorpos here and there to sell them to fixers for some extra eddies. And iftheir dad was all about that software, their mom was the hardware maestro whocould build a computer out of scrap metal like it was Legos. They were quite apower couple and managed to attract more than a few followers and basically started theirown tiny little gang whose main job was to ruin all the fun for the corps inthe virtual world. And, of course, something had to go wrong eventually. So itdid. They stole info about a shipment of expensive Arasaka tech and sold it toa fixer. But before they could get their hands on that juicy high tech, somerat snitched on them. One of their guys turned up to be a corpo whistleblower whose sole purpose was to sniff out the infamous Netrunner who was stealing theirdata. A whole ass witch hunt began and the dad knew he fucked up big time. Sobig, in fact, he knew for damn sure Arasaka was coming for him and his family.So he put his little daughter into his son’s arms along with some valuable datashards regarding his work, made him promise he’ll keep his sis safe and senthim on his merry way, whilst running with the wife in the opposite direction.

And itworked! Surprisingly. Alek did such an amazing job at concealing theirfootsteps they managed to live pretty happily and untouched by the corpos formany years. The brother became a solo and an edgerunner pretty early and tookon an alias of the ‘Vulture’ - ‘V’ for short. He was so damn good at his job theynever knew poverty. Buuut as they say ‘the faster you run away from yourpast…’ Jax was almost 18 when Arasaka found them. He gunned them all downlike dogs, even though he knew there was no way he’d survive. In the aftermathof the bloodbath, leaning against the wall of their wrecked living room,bleeding and dying, he promised her he was going to be fine, gave her thosemysterious shards, told her to grab his gun and bike and go to Night City, makea simple delivery to his old friend. Jax felt it was a goodbye and that those mercswere no damn drug dealers who came to collect an old debt. But she listened tohim anyway and rode to Night City.

There, this‘friend’ person who turned out to be the last surviving associate of her parents,told her the truth. The entire story and not a single lie. That day she made ither life goal to harass Arasaka at every turn, make their lives miserable, DDoSthe fuck out of their Net, mess up their systems real good! She adopted herbrother’s alias (though this time it most likely stood for ‘Vendetta’ howeversaucy that might sound) and began to follow in her parents’ footsteps, learningall she could about hacking and tech. Eventually, V got good enough at it soshe could jam tracking devices and disable surveillance programming in order toremain ‘inivisible’ to those who’d find her pranks unfunny. Though, apparently,someone’s been looking for her recently… Wonder what’s that all about, huh?

TL;DR!

JaxineBryce is a trash goblin and a bi disaster, who’s a not-so-bad Netrunner and asomewhat-acceptable Techie. She came to NC after her brother’s death to be apain in the Arasaka Corp.’s ass for personal reasons as well as for shits andgiggles.

She’s ofmixed race, though she mostly takes after her Asian mom. Her hazel eyesare long gone and replaced by some cute orange-glowing optics, and herbluish-black hair is always a hot mess that she just can’t be bothered to take careof it (if she could she’d wear a ‘Bad Hair Day’ beanie hat all day every day).Doesn’t really have that much skin wiring and such, prefers to conceal most of her cyberwareand look as natural as possible due to her fear of slipping into cyberpsychosis.

She alwaysloved to blast Johnny Silverhand on full volume in her room, but ever sinceArasaka kinda sorta ruined her life, she really started to like this guy, evengot herself a glowing tattoo of Samurais (not to mention the Samurai jacket,which was a birthday gift from the brother!).

She can’tdo shit in combat (besides firing a gun and only because her bro took her outshooting once), but boy can she fuck up your cyberware if you get too close.For these reasons she desperately relies on Jackie to be the ‘wall’ between herand the enemy, but at the same time she always makes T-Bug’s work a tad biteasier.

Other thanthat, she absolutely loves NiCola, dreams of owning at least a couple of cats, believes coffee and ramen to be the crowning achievments of humanity, is an AI rights supporter and a speed junkie to the bone despite not being the best driver in the book. Can’treally drive cars that well, but boy does she love bikes! And adding her ownlittle touches to her vehicles. Like, that one time she spray-painted Jackie’snew car neon pink and now he won’t leave her alone with his car unsupervised…

Jaxine issomewhat introverted and really clings onto people that she knows. T-Bug alwaysappeared to her like a caring big sister, while doctor Victor became a newfather figure in her life after her brother’s demise. V’s also got the biggestof crushes on Jackie, though she’d rather die in a fire than tell him, mostlybecause she really doesn’t want to ruin their amazing friendship (besides, shewon’t survive a day in NC without Jackie’s help). And even though she jokesaround a lot, she has a tendency to fall in and out of depression. Jackie’s happy attitudealways helped her deal with those kind of anxious feelings and going out forthe night on the town with her best amigo will always be her preferred way todo therapy. Despite all that, Jaxine’s genuinely a ‘good guy’, but definitely nota ‘knight in shining armor’. Sure, she’ll help you out if she happens upon youwhile on a job, but don’t expect her to go on a righteous quest to save theworld. Her only goal in life is avenging her family, letting go of the past andfinding a place to truly call home and nothing else. As soon as there’s nothingof importance holding her in Night City, she’ll hop on her bike and be gonebefore sunrise.

#she a baby #tho some of it (if not all) may change after release #even though CDPR promissed us roleplayers paradise of a game #ask #anon #oc #v #female v #jaxine bryce #cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #cdpr #cd projekt red #my art #sketch #wip #digital art

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hysterialevi · 6 years ago

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When the Devil Cries pt. 23

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

From Arthur’s POV

SHADY BELLE

DAWN

Rushing into my room with Eddie in tow, I hurried over to the bed as he limped along beside me before gently setting him down, allowin’ the boy to finally find some comfort after these past few days of torment.

Eddie looked exhausted, despite the fact that Rodrick seemed to have gone easy on him. His usual, energetic expression was nowhere to be seen, and instead of the joyful twinkle I normally spotted in his eyes, the pianist’s face sagged with not only fatigue, but also a layer of anxiety.

I let out a worried sigh and slid a soft hand down his cheek, tryin’ to calm the boy down as I took a seat next to him.

...Was I doing the right thing? I wondered. With every attempt I made to protect Eddie, I only seemed to end up dragging him deeper into this mess.

I mean, Jesus-- I never intended for our relationship to turn out like this. From the first day I met Eddie, everything I did was to keep him away from the gang’s activities. I never wanted him to get involved with our world of outlaws and Pinkertons, and I certainly never planned to bring him into the heart of all our problems.

And yet...here he was. Fightin’ for his life in the ass-end of some swamp that had been shot to hell by Atticus’ gang...all because I tried to protect him.

I could lie to myself about it all I wanted, but the truth was: I was puttin’ this boy in danger with every move I made. And sooner or later...I was gonna have to let him go.

But for now, I simply threw those thoughts away and focused on Eddie, keepin’ him company as he slowly fell asleep.

I bent down slightly, bringin’ my face closer to his.

“Try to get some rest, Eddie,” I whispered to him. “You need it.”

Eddie sluggishly forced his eyes open and looked at me with refusal, attempting to bring himself into a sitting position.

“...What, here?” He asked. “But...this is your bed, Arthur. It’s not big enough for the both of us. Where will you sleep--?”

“--Hush,” I cut him off. “It’s yours for now. Just get some shut-eye, alright?”

He fell silent at that and halted his movements for a second, finally relaxing into the bed once he realized he weren’t gonna change my mind...but somethin’ was still off about him.

There was a certain...mood to him that made me suspect he wasn’t quite as alright as he claimed. Every time I glanced at Eddie, he looked like he was about to break into tears, and he kept his eyes in a downcast angle. He looked devoid of all life.

I tilted my head at the pianist and peered at him in a curious manner, checkin’ to see if he was okay as he settled into the thin mattress.

“...Eddie?” I said. “R’you doing alright?”

He frowned out of despondence and brought his forlorn gaze to me, his eyelids low with weariness as a quiet sigh escaped him.

“I...I don’t know,” Eddie lied at first, eventually opening up to me. “...No. No, I’m not.”

I was quiet in response, causin’ the other man to prop himself up on his elbows before he continued to vent.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t mean to act like this. I’m trying my best to stay strong -- just like you said I should -- but...” Eddie let out a breath of defeat, hanging his head low, “...I’m just not built like you, Arthur. I’m not built for the life of an outlaw, no matter how hard I try to be...and I think it’s finally starting to take its toll on me.”

I nodded in understanding, patting a hand on top of his own.

“I figured that was part of it,” I admitted. “You’ve been actin’ differently ever since that bank robbery, after all. Not to mention all the shit that’s happened these past couple o’ days. I think everyone in the gang’s startin’ to grow a bit tired.”

“I suppose I just feel guilty,” Eddie confessed. “I thought robbing those people would be easier. That we’d just...barge in, wave our guns around, and take the money like any gentleman. But the way that bank manager looked at me...it made me feel like a monster. Made me realize it wasn’t right, what we did...”

Eddie sat all the way up, draggin’ a hand down his face as it drooped in sorrow.

“And Hosea...” he carried on, “I’m so sorry about Hosea, Arthur. I know how much you loved him, and I know how much he loved you.”

I glanced away from the boy for a moment, tryin’ to hide how I truly felt.

“Yeah...” I simply said. “I miss that old man. It’s gonna be strange livin’ in a world without him, considering he was in mine for over twenty years. Thankfully, Dutch managed to get him buried somewhere. Somewhere he can rest.”

“That’s good,” Eddie replied. “It’s what he deserves. I mean, I didn’t know him for nearly as long as you did, but Hosea treated me almost like a son in the short time we knew each other. I imagine he did the same to you.”

I agreed. “He sure did.”

“Well...if it’s any consolation, I also know what it feels like to lose a father.”

A thought popped up in my mind at that, causing me to change the subject.

“What was your daddy like, anyway?” I questioned. “I know you said he was involved in crime, but you haven’t really said much else about your family. Not that I blame you. I’ve just been curious.”

The pianist sifted through his memories for a second, thinking about what to say.

“My father...he was--” Eddie hesitated, unsure of how to describe him. I guessed his daddy must’ve been quite the complicated man.

“...His name was Jonathan,” the boy finally settled with. “He had his flaws, but I still loved him. And I know he loved me. Some people described him as cold, or emotionless, but he showed compassion in his own, distant kind of way. The man rarely ever smiled, but others always seemed to be smiling around him. ...He kind of reminds me of you.”

I chuckled. “You think I’m cold and emotionless, d’you?”

Eddie cracked a smile. “Most of the time. But it only makes your caring side stand out all the more.”

The pianist went back to the topic of his family, tellin’ me about the other members as his voice softened with a reminiscent tone.

“As for my mother, her name was Ethel. She had...quite the spirit in her. She wasn’t exactly as gentle and delicate as the other women in our neighborhood, but I liked her that way. She was boisterous, yet composed. Comical, yet serious. Harsh, yet loving. She’d often spend her time knitting in the living room, and the rest chasing me and my sister around with the needles when we were being disobedient. Though, it was usually me.”

I chortled at the image. “Sounds like Miss Grimshaw in a way. And, ah...what ‘bout your sister?”

“Her name was Alice,” Eddie answered, his tone slightly morose now. “She was...very quiet. Almost alarmingly so. She always kept to herself, and didn’t really have any friends, but not because she couldn’t make any. Just because she seemed content with being alone. Both my parents often protested her self-induced isolation and tried to get her out of the house, but Alice would simply spend her days reading book after book. She’d also listen to me play the piano as she did so.”

Eddie’s voice faltered at the painful memory and his expression steadily began to sink, makin’ me blurt out a hasty apology once I noticed what my big mouth had done this time.

“Aw, shit...” I murmured. “I’m sorry, Eddie. I...I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s alright,” he reassured. “I just...I miss them so much. And I regret not being able to save them from Atticus. None of them deserved to die the way they did, and there’s also the fact that seeing the man again has brought back some...horrible memories. But I’ll be fine.”

A question suddenly posed itself in my thoughts, leadin’ me to grow even more curious about Eddie’s past.

“Why does Atticus even wanna kill you so bad, anyway?” I asked. “I mean, I know he didn’t really get along with your father, but...all this effort just to kill one man? And for so long? It seems like a waste of time to me. Why is he so obsessed with huntin’ you down?”

Eddie quirked a brow. “Didn’t I tell you? About Nathaniel?”

I shook my head, findin’ myself in an even deeper state of confusion. “No. Who’s Nathaniel?”

A blanket of realization covered the boy’s face at the answer and he turned away from me, thinkin’ about how to explain the whole story as I waited for a response.

...Just what the hell was going on?

“...I’m sorry, Arthur,” he started off. “I thought I already told you, but...I guess it just slipped my mind.” Eddie let out a short sigh. “Nathaniel was the name of Atticus’ son.”

I perked my head up in interest. “Atticus has a son?”

“Had,” Eddie corrected. “Nathaniel was killed a long time ago. He was a few years younger than you when he died, and an outlaw just like his father.” The boy switched to a more sullen temperament. “...He was also my first lover.”

My eyes widened with shock. “You were in love with...Atticus’ son?”

The other man nodded, evidently not proud to admit it.

“This was before Atticus betrayed my family,” Eddie clarified. “We never knew things would turn out like this. In fact, Nathaniel always did everything he could to keep me away from his father’s world of crime. He never introduced me to the other members in the gang unless they approached us first, he never talked about the jobs they did -- he pretty much pretended they didn’t even exist. Nathaniel just wanted to keep things normal...and for a time, they almost were.”

I urged him to go on. “...But?”

The pianist got to the point. “But...then Atticus decided to wipe out my entire family. He sent Thatcher as the assassin to finish us off -- and for the most part, he did -- but when the man reached me, Nathaniel stood in his way. He disagreed with his father’s actions and tried to protect me, but in doing so, had to go against his own gang.”

A pang of realization hit me.

“...So that’s what Thatcher meant...”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “What?”

“Before I killed Thatcher,” I recalled, “he told me I wasn’t the first one to ‘throw my life away for you.’ It just never really clicked until now. I guess he was referring to Nathaniel.”

The boy thought back on the incident. “Well, unlike you...Nathaniel didn’t survive. Middleton was forced to kill him in the end, and by the time he dropped dead, I was already long gone. ...That’s why Atticus hates me so much. He blames me for the death of his son, and will do anything he can to take revenge.”

I rested my elbows on my knees. “Surely, a man like Atticus would know revenge is pointless?”

Eddie shrugged. “Perhaps, but I don’t think he cares anymore. Whatever concern he had for his gang’s safety died with Nathaniel. He fears nothing because he has nothing.”

Breaking out of his thoughts, the pianist suddenly put his hand on top of mine and used the other to caress my face as he scooted closer to me, lookin’ me in the eye.

“Listen, Arthur,” he said, “whatever happens, I promise I’ll never run out on you like I did with Nathaniel. I know you’re always telling me that there might come a time when I’ll have to save myself, but...I don’t think I could. I don’t think I could just leave you behind like that. Not after all this time.”

I leaned closer to him and removed his hand from my cheek, holdin’ it in my own.

“Now, don’t you worry about that,” I comforted. “Dutch has a plan. We’re gonna pack up this camp, and we are gonna get the hell outta Shady Belle. You’re gonna be safe.”

Eddie disregarded that, sighing in disapproval. “I don’t care about being safe anymore. We’re outlaws, for God’s sake. We’re never going to be safe. The only thing I care about right now is you, Arthur.” He glanced away for a moment, bashfully averting his eyes. “...I love you.”

My entire body froze at that and I simply gazed back at the boy in bewilderment, feelin’ more touched than I would’ve liked to admit.

It had been ages since someone last said that to me, and part of me couldn’t believe it was real. All these years of fightin’ people and being betrayed by them, making new enemies with each passing day...it was hard to see myself finally having someone who was not only a friend, but also a lover.

I snapped outta my trance-like state and brought my attention back to Eddie, tightenin’ my grip around his hand in an affectionate manner as a gentle chuckle escaped me.

“Boy, you really are a fool, ain’t you?” I teased. “Well, if it makes you feel any better...I love you, too.”

Eddie beamed brightly at that and the joy returned to his face as he happily planted a kiss on my lips before embracing me, practically meltin’ against my chest once the fatigue finally started to catch up to him.

Holding the pianist close, I let him lay his head on my shoulder and tried to make him forget his worries, calming him down as he slowly fell asleep.

It felt like it had been an eternity since I last spent any time with the boy, and now that he was finally back with the gang, I intended on keepin’ it that way. I didn’t give a damn if Atticus blamed him for Nathaniel’s death, or blamed him for any of the other problems he had in life -- I was gonna keep Eddie safe no matter how much it cost me. And Atticus was dead wrong if he thought otherwise.

I mean, with everything else fallin’ apart around me, Eddie was the only thing I had left that I could truly protect. Dutch rarely ever listened to me anymore, Micah was already beginning to replace Hosea, and the rest of the gang was fightin’ itself with fears and doubts. It was like witnessing a train-wreck before it even happened, and I’d be damned if I let Eddie get caught in the middle of it.

Interruptin’ my train of thought, a knock emitted from the bedroom door as Dutch’s guttural voice came through, grabbing my attention.

“Arthur, you in there? I need to speak with you.”

“I’ll be out in a minute, Dutch.” I replied.

“Alright,” he said, his footsteps slightly faltering as he wandered away from the door. “Meet me on the balcony. It’s important.”

Softly pushing Eddie off my chest, I placed the exhausted boy down on the mattress and slipped my coat off, layin’ it over him like a blanket as the cool breeze drifted in through the broken windows.

“Go on and get some sleep.” I whispered, earning a series of incoherent mumblings from him in return.

I let out a quiet laugh, switchin’ off the lantern on my desk as I headed out the room.

“G’night, Eddie. It’s good to have you back.”

A FEW MINUTES LATER

Strollin’ through the doors leading to the balcony, I found Dutch casually leaning against the railing with his back turned to me as he silently enjoyed a cigar, taking in the gloomy view.

There was something different about the old man. He seemed content in an odd way and didn’t appear as agitated as I expected, but the air about him still felt...wrong, despite the solace.

I mean, the O’Driscolls was finished. We had just gotten back from killin’ their leader, and now, Dutch’s lifelong nemesis was suddenly absent. I supposed his focus had probably moved onto Atticus by now, but considering how he handled Colm, part of me didn’t even wanna know his plans for the future.

They might’ve been a success individually, but with every plan I carried out for Dutch, the deeper I found myself stuck in this shit. It was like adding even more weight to an anchor strapped around the gang’s feet, and Dutch wasn’t doin’ anything to keep us from drowning.

I calmly walked up to the man, leaning my body against a nearby pillar as his eyes flicked in my direction, leadin’ him to greet me.

“So...” Dutch said, shaking some ash off his cigar, “Colm O’Driscoll is finally dead.”

I adjusted myself, resting a hand on the buckle of my belt. “Yep. He sure is. You feel any better?”

“Oh, yes,” he admitted darkly. “Much...better. I know you don’t think much of payback, Arthur, but I assure you, this was well-deserved. Colm is finally where he belongs. In the ground.”

“And what ‘bout you?” I pointed out. “You on the top now?”

Dutch picked up on my irritated tone and turned to face me, his brow furrowed in frustration as he let out a breath of smoke.

“I am gettin’ tired of all these doubts, son,” he confessed. “What happened to your faith? Ever since Blackwater, it’s been shaken. You’ve turned into a different man. Before, you was more than willing to gun down any O’Driscolls in our path, and now you’re disappointed in me for killing their leader? I did our gang a favor, Arthur. I saved lives. I saved Eddie.”

I was unconvinced. “Atticus saw us, Dutch. He was at the fort. He knows we’re the ones who killed Colm, and if I’ve learned anything about how that man’s mind works, he’s gonna retaliate. People are gonna suffer ‘cause of what we did.”

“Yes,” Dutch acknowledged, albeit sarcastically, “that tends to happen when you’re an outlaw. But like I said before, I have a plan. We’re gonna move the gang up north to Roanoke Ridge before Atticus even has a chance to do anything, and disappear.”

“North?” I questioned. “What we gonna find up there? As far as I know, only towns in the north are Annesburg and Van Horn. Ain’t nothin’ to rob in those places, Dutch.”

He nodded. “Which is why we are gonna take one last score in Saint Denis before we leave.”

I paused. “Wait, what? What else is there to take?”

Dutch reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded letter, swiftly handin’ it to me as he explained its contents.

“I received a letter from Trelawny. He said he’s stayin’ in Saint Denis right now. Might’ve overheard a tip that could help us out.”

Scanning the message, I quietly muttered the words out to myself as my eyes scrolled down the page.

“...a high-stakes Poker game on a riverboat...” I jolted my head up. “You sure about this, Dutch? I don’t doubt that there’ll be lots of money, but do we even have the time to plan for something like this? We’re already livin’ on borrowed time as is. We need to move.”

“You said it yourself,” he countered. “Ain’t nothing valuable in Annesburg or Van Horn. If we don’t wanna show up there empty-handed, we’ve got to take this opportunity while we have the chance. We got no choice. Trust me on this, Arthur. It’s worth it. And besides, if there’s anyone in the gang who can play Poker and blend in with high society at the same time, it’s Eddie. This is perfect for him.”

I sighed in defeat, finally giving in to Dutch’s plan.

“...Alright. What d’you need me to do?”

Dutch took a step towards me, gesturing inside the manor with his cigar.

“Take Eddie, go to Saint Denis tomorrow, and meet with Trelawny. Talk with him. Stay the night if you have to. Just get as much info as you can about this riverboat party. We’ll hit it the moment we’re ready, and then leave this place as soon as we have the money.”

Folding the letter, I shoved it into my satchel and complied, reluctantly goin’ along with this idea.

“If you think that’s what’s best.”

The other man seemed satisfied. “I do, son. I do. And so will you. You just need to have faith. After all...” Dutch took one last drag on his cigar and put it out, sauntering back inside as the sun climbed the sky, “...what else have we got?”

#red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #eddie ryan #arthur morgan x male oc #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

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dreamlandcreations · 2 years ago

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That sounds super fun, thank you for clarifying <3. May I please get a 💋💍🔪 ship for stranger things?

I'm fairly introverted and it takes me a while to warm up to people. I love reading, my room is filled with stacks of books. I especially enjoy true crime, poetry and Russian literature!I adore adventures, witty and playful banter, pulling harmless pranks, joking around and having indepth discussions on anything and everything. I love helping out and people come to me to vent or for advice and comfort. I'd consider myself really smart and I'm very ambitious; I love being the best at everything I do. I daydream a lot and I'm a hopeless romantic! I enjoy all forms of art and I have quite a few creative hobbies! I'm 5'9 and I have long and curly dark brown hair and brown eyes. I dress mostly in relaxed suits, blazers and coats and I love the occasional dress or sweaters layered over a white button down! I'm a taurus and my mbti is infp.

Congrats on your milestone, here's to so many more followers <33

600 follower celebration - I ship you with…

💋 Nancy

You'd fuck Nancy in your experimenting days during the first year of university.... In high school, you weren't really close because she gave off the spoiled princess vibe that you tend to avoid as much as possible. Your relationship changed after the whole Upsidedown incident and you basically became best friends as you realised you have a lot in common. It felt great to share your dreams with someone who would support you without question. You finally had someone who was interested in the same things and could talk about school and books and your career choice without getting remarks in return. You became best friends and even roommates throughout the years at university. After getting home from a Halloween party you still felt elated and pleasantly relaxed from the drinks you've had. You started to laugh about lame pickup lines some of the guys aimed at you and the girls, mocking them as you pretend to flirt with each other. Drunkenly giggling at your own jokes until Nancy kissed you. A moment of surprise and hesitation followed, and then the next thing you know is that you are both tugging at clothes and sharing feverish kisses until you landed in her bed. The morning after is only awkward for a moment then Nancy is smacking a kiss on your cheek and greets you like every morning.

💍 Eddie

It's no question that you'd marry Eddie...

His exterior and reputation might have discouraged you from being friends in high school but you know better since then. He only intimidates you at first and mostly because he is flirty and your quickly-developed crush makes you so shy you can barely stand it. You would be surprised to find out how much he reads. Your talks started after the almost-end-of-the-world days, when the group gathered to celebrate. You felt a bit like an outsider again now that the danger has passed, sitting on the side while they ate and danced and had a good time. You took a seat and found a book nearby that you only meant to take a look at but got lost in after a minute.

He easily led the conversation about that book and many others, staying within the safety of that light topic and slowly coercing you out of your shell.

It took him a lot of time to gather the courage to ask you out because, despite his performance, he was quite socially awkward when it came to 'normal' things.

The first date was a mess, he was too nervous and trying too hard but in the end, he managed to relax and had a great time.

Dating Eddie is not so different from being his best friend, except of course, the kissing and other stuff. He asks for your help preparing for Hellfire and you have fun making up the story.

You encourage and help him reach his dreams, always there to support him like he supports you every time you get something into your mind and won't let go until you reached your goal.

He takes you on little surprised dates long after you get married. The initial spark never really fades, you still feel giddy every time he shows he thinks of you when you are not together. Downside? You get to babysit the kids, becoming a mom figure for the group but look at the bright side, you scored two husbands for one. Eddie and Steve are kind of a package deal since they practically adopted Dustin (and the rest of the kids).

🔪 Billy

You would kill poor Billy...

Even though you feel guilty, you know there's nothing you could have done. It was a mercy kill. He begged you to do it. He was fatally injured while protecting you all and he was in so much pain.

You were the closest thing he had to a friend in Hawkins. He was making his way through the popular pretty girls and you were surprised when he tried to make you his next conquest as you did your best to get through school unnoticed. What was even more surprising was your reaction. You've got quite the temper and smart-ass attitude when it came to his condescending, flirty comments. He liked it. He liked that you weren't easy, that you always had a comeback to anything he had to say, that you didn't put up with his smug attitude. And secretly you started to like your verbal fighting too. It started to become fun, the mocking turned into friendly teasing and a not-so-rare genuine laugh followed the comments that became sort of inside jokes. In the end, Billy was nicer to you than to anyone else. He didn't let you closer than that though. You often wonder about what could have been.

600 follower celebration - I ship you with…

#ask #anon ask #ship game #💋💍🔪 ship #dreamland's follower celebration #warning: I haven't the slightest idea about D&D

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themightyhemmings2 · 7 years ago

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Losers Club at Hogwarts

- okay so this is how I put them : Ben is definitely a Ravenclaw. Mike, Richie & Eddie are in Hufflepuff. Beverly & Bill are in Gryffindor and Stan is in Slytherin (ik ik that this is a controversial topic but that’s what I think skskdks)

- Bill, Stan, Richie and Eddie meet in the Hogwarts Express on their first time going to Hogwarts and they become friends right off the bat

- Imagine them all being super excited but scared at the same time, because despite growing up in wizard families they still don’t know what to expect

- Stan is super nervous and tries to cover it up with some snarky remarks towards Richie who‘s been talking non-stop (because that’s just how that boy is and oh boy they didn’t know that so many your-mom-jokes even existed) but Bill notices and tries to calm him down

- Richie and Eddie bicker non-stop and although Eddie is acting like Richie seriously annoys him, he‘s actually very thankful for meeting the boy who can‘t seem to shut up because it keeps him sane (despite all Richie’s doing is Eddie‘s mom jokes and making up nicknames for the boys)

- Richie started calling Eddie Eds within the first five minutes of knowing each other and Eddie said "THAT‘S NOT MY NAME DICKHEAD“ like five billion times by the time they leave the train

- And Stan is ready for murder

- When he ends up being in slytherin while Eddie and Richie are sorted into Hufflepuff - Eddie acts like he hates being in the same house as Richie but no one believes him - and Bill in Gryffindor, he‘s a bit sad but the boys try their best to comfort him

- "Stan the man, at the end of the day it’s just a house the only thing you have to do there is sleep, and let me tell you, green and silver look amazing on you!“

- After a month Bill starts talking to a girl from his house who‘s always seen alone

- Her name is Beverly and he thinks she’s super super cool and they get along great so he introduces her to the boys

- Richie and her connect right away

- They literally become the ultimate pranksters of the school

- A week later Richie and Eddie introduce Mike to the group

- They all love him immediately because lbr who doesn’t love Mike???

- After another month they notice this quiet boy from Ravenclaw who‘s only every seen reading books or writing something in a notebook he‘s always carryig around

- One day Beverly decides to just go talk to him

- That’s how Ben comes to the group

- Stan tells him to run as long as he can because Richie‘s discovered a newfound passion - impersonating accents

- Mike absolutely adores history of magic and care of magical creatures (he literally pulls a Hagrid and turns up with a dragon egg one day. It was all a big mess and such an out of order thing for him to do and generally just a big mess and the losers swear to never talk of it again) (Mike named the dragon Betty)

- Beverly and Bill are more attracted to defence against the dark arts

- Eddie loves charms (& that’s good because he literally has to repair Richie‘s glasses at least once a week)

- Stan loves transfiguration (and let me tell you, he’s so so talented)

- Ben adores astrology (literally no one can understand that except for mike)

- Richie turns out to be a natural talent at potions to everyone’s surprise

- During winter they all gather in one of their common rooms to learn together while during summer they all go to learn outside at the lake

- Bill and Beverly join the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Bill is a chaser and Beverly is a beater.

- Everyone is terrified of Beverly because she‘s just THAT good.

- one of the Ravenclaw chasers told Richie to "shut the fuck up“ once and Beverly spends an entire Quidditch game trying to shoot him off his broom. Successfully.

- After a lot of encouraging from Richie, Eddie decides to try out for quidditch in his fourth year too

- He becomes a seeker and you see Richie with a sign for him at every game

- You can always hear the losers cheer the loudest whenever one of them is playing

- They only ever leave Hogwarts during summer holidays because they don’t want to leave Hogwarts or each other

- Even when they leave during summer, they try to meet up as soon and as much as possible

- You can bet all your money Richie and Peeves are best friends

- Somehow Richie always gets invited to all the parties the ghosts do

- "If anyone knows how to throw a party it’s the bloody baron guys, they’re WILD!“

- They all LOVE going to Hogsmeade

- Bill and Stan have their first date on valentines day at Hogsmeade in a cute little cafe because they’re sweethearts

- They’re one of the cutest couples at school, and despite Stan being in Slytherin he proudly wears all of Bill‘s Gryffindor sweaters around school

- They find Richie and Eddie making out behind a bookshelf in the library one day in year five

- Literally no one is surprised

- Ben hands Beverly a galleon

- In year 6 Ben and Beverly start dating

- But Ben is so soft for Mike you always find Mike walking at Ben‘s other hand

- You can bet all your money Richie‘s had more detention in his life than he attended astronomy classes

- During the end of their time at Hogwarts they stop caring about the seating rules in the great hall and literally sit at whichever table they want during dinner because they all just want to spend time together

- Even during exam time they don’t get sick of each other because they all love each other so so much

- Even the teachers ADORE their group dynamics

- Everyone is surprised Stan managed to be with Richie almost every day for seven years and not having strangled him (Stan loves Richie to death because they’re best friends and somehow everyone always forgets that)

- When they leave Hogwarts they literally try to find an apartment big enough for all of them

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sinsiriuslyemo · 7 years ago

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So so so so sorry for this late post!! My mom is in town and I totally forgot!

EPISODE 16

By the time they all left, you had fallen asleep covered in your paperwork in the downstairs room. Nevada came into the bedroom, smirking softly at you and moving all the papers out of the way before he picked you up into his arms and carried you upstairs. Taking off your shoes and dress, he tucked you in under the covers and stripped as well, sliding in beside you and wrapping you up in his arms again.

You roused a bit, snuggling against him and smiling against his neck.

“Hey you, I fell asleep,” you whispered apologetically.

“That’s okay, mami. You got shot, had a long night, you deserve some sleep,” he answered, eyes still closed.

“Okay,” you nodded in agreement and kissed his skin. “Hey, I got shot,” you whispered. “I'm such a badass.”

“Yeah you are,” he replied, smirking at you. “People better think twice before messing with you.”

“I'm a shark,” you growled.

Nevada laughed. “Took some of those painkillers, yeah?”

You nodded with a giggle, and he chuckled softly too, kissing your forehead.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he promised you.

When Amber woke up the next morning, Omar was sitting at the kitchen table, looking through the classifieds in the morning paper. He’d almost gone to the club like he had every other morning, but then he remembered that his place wasn’t there anymore, and decided to start looking for a straight job and a new, affordable apartment for them. Without his money from the family business, and their savings pretty much set aside for baby items at this point, their finances would take a bit of a hit.

“Sleep okay?” he asked as she came into the kitchen.

She shook her head, “Nah, I can't sleep at all lately,” she moved to the kitchen and grabbed a ginger ale, taking a seat at the table and opening her laptop. “Any luck with the job hunt?” she asked gently.

“A few clubs downtown looking for bouncers, couple in Brooklyn looking for bartenders,” he mumbled. “I found a few places we can look at in Brooklyn, too,” he added.

“What about defense training?” she asked curiously, pointing to the ad. “What if you taught self defense classes?”

“You need to be certified for shit like that,” he answered, shaking his head.

“You can get certification easy, I got certified when I left Iran.”

“That costs money, Amber, and the money we have, we need for baby shit and a deposit on a place,” he replied. “Besides, they do background checks for that shit, and I’ve done time.”

She nodded, looking down at her drink and putting a hand on her belly, rubbing up and down.

“What do you think of the Bronx?” he asked absently, focusing on the apartments for rent for now. Looking for a job seemed to only depress him.

“I'm fine with wherever you feel is safest, I don't really care where. As long as we're together.” She stood up and stretched a bit. “Look,” she said gently. “I know you're trying, I want to help...is there anything I can do?”

“You wanna tell my mom we’re leaving Manhattan for me?” he teased, chuckling a little.

“Well if I do you'll have a dead wife so…” she smiled at him. “Also I want to be far away from my family, if we can.”

“That’s fine...and you might have a dead husband anyway after I tell her so...” he answered. “Staten Island’s not bad.”

“I wouldn't mind Staten Island, but actually...I'd prefer to move to a safer side of Manhattan. I wanna stay with our family. Even if we can't be involved in the chaos.”

“Amber, this is New York, there are no safe neighborhoods that we can afford. Staten Island is only forty five minutes away, Brooklyn is a subway ride away, so is the Bronx...actually forget Staten Island, we would need our own car. Don’t need that expense,” he mumbled to himself, crossing off all the listings in Staten Island that he’d circled. “All the safe neighborhoods in Manhattan cost money that we don’t have,” he said softly.

“We do have the money,” she said gently. “My book is selling really well, Omar, we can afford it.”

“We have to save that for the baby, and what happens when that money runs out? How are we gonna pay a mortgage or rent?” he asked her.

“I have a steady revenue and a contract for two more books. That'll keep us afloat for at least ten years. You'll find a new job, and our combined income will be more than enough.”

“I’m not gonna live off my wife, Amber...and while you’re writing your books, who’s gonna take care of the baby?”

“This isn't about living off of me, this is about doing what is best and what is safest for the baby, we both know the safest option is to stay in Manhattan. The good side. I'll write when the baby is asleep, I'm not worried. And you know, you can also take care of the baby. You won't grow a vagina, I promise.”

“The safest option is to get out of Manhattan all together. And yeah, of course I’ll help, smart ass, but I gotta work during the day to put food on the table, but don’t worry, I won’t sleep. You’ll have all the time in the world,” he replied, mirroring her sarcastic tone.

“We have other people to help us, this isn't all on you,” she whispered gently, taking his hand. “We can do this together, right? I want to do this together.”

“Yeah, we’re doing it together,” he mumbled. God how he wished his father were around to talk to right about now.

She moved closer to him, “I love you,” she whispered softly. “I love you.”

“Yeah, me too,” he answered.

Roxie moaned when she woke, blushing as she felt the way his cock was still inside her and she giggled, starting to gently move on him. She’d woken up throughout the night, and just as he’d said, contracted her pelvic muscles around him until she orgasmed. Despite the lack of sleep, she felt completely rested, and still horny.

“Rafael, wake up,” she cooed.

“Mmm,” he groaned right before the alarm started buzzing, and he instinctively rolled away from her to shut it off, effectively pulling out of her. “Oh damn it,” he growled softly. “Sorry…”

She whimpered.

“Rafi,” she breathed and tried to tug him back.

“I’m sorry mi amor,” he said again, kissing the back of her shoulder. “It’s not as though I did it on purpose,” he added.

“Then get back inside me,” she begged.

He sighed softly, glancing back at the clock.

“Okay, we have to be quick, literally five minutes. I have to be in court, and you have a day manager to finish training,” he said, pressing his chest against her back as he slid inside her again.

He groaned, kissing her neck and reaching around to massage her breast as he began to slowly pump in and out of her, building momentum.

She gasped, moaning as the two of them moved together as fast as humanly possible, the sound of skin slapping filling the room as she arched her hips back.

Groaning, he reaching between her legs and circled her clit, trying to take her over the edge.

“Come on, mi amor, come for me,” he purred in her ear.

She kissed him hard as she came, whining and clenching hard around his cock.

“Oh my god! Rafael!”

He moaned against her neck as his own release rushed through him, hips pressing against hers to get as deep as he possibly could. Kissing her lips, he sighed audibly against her mouth and glance back at the clock.

“And one minute to spare,” he mused with a smile.

“My man lasted a whole four minutes,” she smirked back.

“Excuse me, I normally last a whole lot longer than four minutes, and you, my dear, barely lasted three and a half, so there,” he replied, nibbling on her shoulder playfully.

She giggled and slowly moved out of the bed, scurrying to the shower.

“Don't work late tonight!” she ordered.

“I will certainly do my best,” he replied, getting out of bed as well and moving into the kitchen after putting some shorts on and making some coffee. Once Roxie was showered she was on the phone as Rafael put food down for Mowgli.

“Hello Mr. Henley,” she cooed. “It's Roxanne. I'm calling because you shorted us a few boxes on our last order, I'm sure it was just a mistake.”

“Oh the woes of a bakery, eh mijo?” Rafael mumbled to the piglet as he scratched behind his ear and took up his water bowl to fill that as well.

“Well of course you would never try to cheat me out of ten bags by sending me eight. We're friends, and friends don't do that, right? Wonderful! Oh! And if you try to cheat me because my employee doesn't look smart enough to count the bags again, I will stick my high heel so far up your ass it will be a tongue piercing, are we clear?”

“Ouch,” Rafael whispered to himself, moving to wrap his arms around Roxie.

She hung up the phone and turned to kiss him.

“Business isn't always about the cupcakes,” she winked and kissed him once more before letting go. “I have to go,” she grinned.

He held her tighter, keeping her in place and nibbling on her neck.

“You are so sexy when you’re angry, mi amor,” he purred. “I’m gonna be thinking about that all day,” he added, delivering a swift spank to her backside before he went to shower. “Have a good day!”

You woke up with a jolt, you hadn't had a nightmare in a long time. You looked around, wiping the tears off your cheeks and wrapping yourself in a bed sheet so you could search for your husband. You went downstairs just as the door opened.

“What the fuck is the big emergency? What? Did tio get shot again? Did he kill someone else?” Eddie barked as he came into the apartment. “Thought you guys ‘didn’t want me in the Heights’,” he sneered.

“Nope, it was me this time,” you say gently pointing to your bandaged arm and wincing.

“Oh...where’s tio?” he asked, not shocked at all. “Why did he say to come home?”

“Because it's getting dangerous out there. Someone wants to hurt your tio and because of that you're in danger. So you have two options, you can go back to Harvard a bit early, or you can go with your sisters and brother to stay at the safe house.”

“This is such bullshit,” he mumbled in a chuckle. “Fine, guess me and Greyson are going back to Boston. Great summer with the family,” he mused sarcastically, moving upstairs to pack up the rest of his clothes.

You felt your heart twist as you followed him upstairs. You hated having to send him back. You kissed your baby and couldn't help it as you started to cry. The little boy you had raised your entire life practically hated you and Nevada.

His face fell a little, but it seemed he had run out of sympathy for the same old story. Someone was always trying to hurt his tio, you, him, his siblings...and it was then that he realized why Nevada had been so adamant about him leaving the Heights in the first place.

“I love you guys, but you did this to yourself. You were right, I can’t let it drag me down too,” he said, hugging you before he walked back downstairs, heading for the door.

You shut your eyes tight knowing he was right. You had to let go of him, he made it out.

“No, I need to be here or I will die of boredom.” Amber protested as she walked into the club. “Besides, I'm here to meet up with Diamond for lunch. I heard she was visiting with her kid.”

“Oye, if Omar finds out you were here, he’s gonna flip his shit, me entiendes?” Nevada replied. “Boredom ni un carajo, chica. You’re pregnant, go do some pregnant woman shit. Go shopping for baby clothes or rattles. This isn’t the fucking time for social calls.”

“Oh eat a dick, I'm just as likely to get shot at the house.”

“Amber!” Diamond squealed and hurried over to the girl.

“Tell me to eat a dick, fucking selfish puta mierda,” Nevada mumbled, moving towards the back room again.

Sawyer and Chibby were focused on the computer screens.

“The hit was removed,” Sawyer said softly to Nevada. “God, who would do that to a child?”

“Some sick mother fuckers, that’s who. What do we got on these mierdas--”

“Um...Nevada...I have made a...a grievous error in judgement…” Chibby began to say.

Nevada’s face fell; he knew it had to be bad if Chibby wasn’t speaking in the third person the way he normally did.

“What is it, Chibs. Tell me,” he said softly.

“The hacker I have been...battling with online. Baited me. They got into our system...that’s how they got the information on the gallery...and your sister, and dearest, sweet Lily.”

“Fuck, Chibby…”

Nevada pinched the bridge of his nose; In all the years Chibby had worked for him, the kid had never made a mistake, especially when it came to security. Sighing heavily, he was interrupted in his thoughts by Sawyer as she grasped at his leather sleeve.

“Nevada, he didn’t know, neither of us did, please… please don’t--”

Nevada simply held up a hand to calm her, nodding his head before he looked back at Chibby, who looked close to tears.

“Okay...it’s okay…” He let out a calming breath. “Chibby, it’s okay. We know now, Lily’s fine...that’s what’s important. Entonces los dos, pero ahora mismo, get to work on building a new firewall, and find some intel on these fucks,” he said before he moved back out, stalking towards Amber and Diamond. “Oye, the both of you, get the fuck out. This ain’t no hang out. This is a business, dale!” he boomed with a scowl on his face.

“We bought drinks,” Diamond said as she pointed to Barry who was making them both drinks.

Amber nodded in agreement as Diamond looked at him softly.

“I thought you would have been excited to see me,” she said sadly. “Or are you just using me for transvestism?”

“Transference,” Amber corrected.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Nevada asked, his brows in waves before he glared at Barry. “This one’s pregnant, so what’d they order?” he asked.

“Diamond always drinks a sex on the beach and Amber's having some ginger ale in a fancy glass so she doesn't feel left out.”

“So a sex on the beach and a ginger ale, you can get both of those at the bodega next door. Dale. Out. We’re fucking busy here,” Nevada replied, shooing the girls away. “You wanna keep your fingers, Barry. They didn’t order shit, me entiendes?”

The bartender nodded obediently as Amber glared and sighed, stomping out. Diamond looked around. “Wait, I brought my son here with me,” she looked around again. “Where'd he go?”

“What the fuck is a kid doing at this bar? OMAR?!” he called out, suddenly remembering directly afterward that Omar wouldn’t be here. “Fuck it, let’s find him and then you need to go, okay? Lo siento, mi amor, pero this isn’t a good time for us to catch up,” he said.

She nodded sadly as she heard her toddler, who was trying to dance with some of the girls. All the girls fawned over him and cooed at him. He looked like a baby pimp.

Nevada couldn’t help but smirk at the boy as he heard Amber run back inside.

“Get down!!” she shouted.

There was a series of shrieks as gunshots broke through the windows. An automatic again, firing off round after round into the club. Nevada ran up to the stage and grabbed Diamond’s son, feeling a sharp pain in his shoulder as he brought him to the ground and shielded him. When the gunfire stopped, they waited a minute to get up.

“Everyone okay?” Amber called out shakily.

Diamond ran over to her son hugging him tight and kissing Nevada. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

Nevada nodded his head, eyes catching sight of the red on Diamond’s dress, too deep to have been someone else’s.

“Blanca, get your ass over here!” he shouted, eyes still on Diamond’s torso.

Diamond looked down at her stomach, hand going to touch it as she looked puzzled before stumbling a bit, falling into Nevada's arms and looking up at him frightened.

Amber rushed over, “Somebody call an ambulance!” she screamed as she moved to put pressure on the wound.

“I got her, get him out of here,” Nevada growled, gesturing to the toddler, who was watching his mother with fear. “He doesn’t need to see this.”

Amber grabbed the kid and didn't hesitate to carry him out front.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, mami, alright?” Nevada said to Diamond, trying to keep pressure on her wound. “Oye, your kid’s got moves,” he mused, trying to keep her distracted.

She grabbed his hand and moved it, lacing her fingers with his.

“I'm a medical graduate,” she whispered. “I know what wound this is…” She struggled to breath and felt tears run down her cheeks. “I'm scared,” she whispered.

“I know...it’s okay,” he replied, holding her hand in his. “Don’t try to talk, okay?”

She looked up at him and smiled.

“Thank you for a-always taking care of me,” she whispered.

He nodded his head.

“Yeah, of course. You’re my girl, you know that,” he replied, smirking back at her.

She smiled and giggled a bit before it faded, her hand going slack in his. Nevada frowned, using a hand to close her eyes before bringing her upper body up to press a kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll take good care of your boy, too,” he whispered against her ear.

#Nevada ramirez #rafael barba #trouble in the heights #law and order svu #cuba v dr

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lifeonashelf · 6 years ago

Text

CAT POWER

When I started working as a clerk at Rhino in 2001, one of my floor managers was a guy named Aaron, a real cool cat who was a few years older than me and a fellow writer (poetry, mostly, but working on his elusive first novel, if I recall correctly). At the time, he probably also fit the textbook description of an alcoholic—hey, it was a record store; most of us who worked there fit that textbook description. But Aaron wasn’t one of those slovenly, discernibly reckless drunks. He was a good-looking dude whose unruffled mien suggested that when he got wasted, he got Elegantly Wasted, and whenever he came in the morning after a bender, the luggage under his eyes was accompanied by a knowing smirk which intimated he had way more fun than you did last night and possibly woke up next to a foxy companion whose name he could only vaguely recall. Naturally, since I was a budding writer with aspirations of being an Elegantly-Wasted alcoholic, I looked up to the guy.

After Aaron left Rhino (I was promoted into the managerial spot he vacated, so he did me a solid there), he switched to bartending at a spot called the Second Avenue Alehouse, where we continued to have positive dealings. Since one of his duties was booking bands to perform at the pub, he slotted Happyending into the schedule several times. Second Avenue was in Upland—only ten miles away from almost everyone I knew at the time—and the place drew healthy business with or without us, so our Alehouse gigs were all reliably well-attended. We were also allowed to play for as long as we wanted, an attractive proposition since our repertoire had ballooned to something like 50 originals and 15 or so covers at that point. Since we obviously thought we had a lot of good tunes to offer, executing a Pearl Jam-esque thirty-song set was much more appealing to us than whittling our wares into a tidy thirty-minute package to be efficiently shoe-horned into rosters with like six other bands at the more traditional clubs where we performed. Plus, Aaron always made sure we got paid—generously, I might add, for an outfit of our limited stature—and kept us plied with free beer all night. Unsurprisingly, the Second Avenue Alehouse ended up being my very favorite venue that ever hosted Happyending.

[Our experiences there were infinitely preferable to some of our more ill-starred outings, such as one disastrous gig at a Cask ‘N Cleaver steakhouse (yes, really) in Orange County, where our entire audience consisted of my dad, the restaurant’s staff, and the consequently aggrieved lady who booked the show: an amateur promoter named Linda, who we had done a few previous gigs for despite ascertaining she was fucking insane. Linda was in particularly rare form the evening of that fabled Cask ‘n Cleaver show. While we were chatting with her upon our arrival at the eatery, she erupted into a lengthy tirade about how the government was putting chemicals in Hostess Twinkies which allowed the CIA to use said snack cakes for nefarious mind-control purposes. She was wholly sincere—and rather frightening in her fervor—so I didn’t have the stones to tell her that the only post-hypnotic suggestion I’ve ever received while eating a Twinkie is that Twinkies are goddamn delicious and I should eat five more of them in immediate succession. Anyway, Linda was incensed that we had failed to lure vast throngs of people to come watch us play in the lounge of a two-and-a-half-star chain restaurant located in a city where we didn’t know anybody. As our scheduled set-time drew near and the establishment remained completely empty, her fretfulness morphed into a vehement lambasting. “Where is everybody, Taylor?” Linda growled, to which I summed up the utter idiocy of the booking by shrugging and telling her, “Linda, this is a Cask ‘N Cleaver.” Nevertheless, we played reasonably well to that room full of vacant white-clothed tables—the candles ornamenting each one gently flickered as I threw power-chords and throaty yells at them, almost like a swaying sea of lighter-hoisting admirers; if we had any ballads in our set, we might have found ourselves in the midst of a poignant moment there. I also definitely noticed the bartender rocking out while he idly wiped down all the mugs behind the bar, ostensibly preparing his glassware just in case the zero people sitting at his counter started ordering pints. However, what I remember most about that night is how dejected we felt driving home from the gig… Not because my father was the only person who showed up to see us, mind you, but because we realized we had inadvertently walked out on the sizable tab we accrued for the hearty appetizers-and-all feast we devoured before our performance. I assure you our malfeasance was wholly unintentional (the food was really quite good; the joint handily earned its 2.5 stars). We simply forgot all about the bill because we were so focused on making a quick exit from the premises after we finished packing up our gear—as I said, Linda was livid; we were justifiably worried she might assault us with Scopolamine-laced Twinkies if we stuck around to give her the chance. In any case, I never returned to that Cask ‘N Cleaver (apparently, the dearth of clientele wasn’t limited to the nights Happyending performed there because the location has long since closed) so it’s entirely possible there is an outstanding warrant for my arrest in the city of Fountain Valley.]

My memories of hanging out with Aaron after each of our Alehouse performances are just as fond as my memories of the shows themselves. We closed the pub down every time we played there, and our host was always game for a few after-hours rounds once he cleared everyone else out; more than once, we ended up lingering to drink and smoke and shoot the shit until four or five in the morning, which naturally proved to be a fertile milieu for some extremely pleasant and memorable conversations (actually, I can’t really remember them, I just remember they were pleasant). Anyway, aside from that, the main reason Aaron has turned up in this essay is because in addition to being a real good dude, he was also a big fan of Cat Power.

I hadn’t yet heard any of Cat Power’s music when she first came up in palaver with Aaron at Rhino, so it was through him I learned that moniker is the stage name used by a highly-regarded singer-songwriter named Chan Marshall, who he assessed as follows: “She’s a fucking trainwreck, man. But I love her.” He then went on to tell me about some of the various Cat Power gigs he had attended over the years, which he succinctly described as “iffy”—he was being overly polite, I think, considering the particulars he then shared.

Aaron told me he was present for at least one show where Marshall abruptly ended the set after a few songs and walked off stage without explanation (which was evidently a common occurrence at the time), and another which was cancelled moments before it was set to begin because she didn’t feel like playing at all (which was evidently also a common occurrence at the time). Yet Aaron sounded positively tickled as he described these episodes to me, as if an aborted Cat Power concert was still a rewarding event to witness—to hear him tell it, Chan Marshall’s histrionic refusal to perform somehow endeared her to him more, perhaps even perversely validated his enthusiasm for her work because her erratic conduct reinforced the brittle-diva mythos she had cultivated. Since he had already accepted the “will-she-or-won’t-she” cliffhanger as part of the whole Cat Power mystique, even when Marshall was too much of a mess to operate, she was still satisfying some aspect of his fandom. And he clearly wasn’t dissuaded by either of these experiences; the very next time a Cat Power gig was announced in our area, Aaron bought a ticket for that show, too.

In a very real sense, Chan Marshall was playing hard to get. But Aaron kept chasing her because he was optimistic that someday, if he persisted, she was bound to eventually put out and play songs at one of her concerts. I’m fascinated by the singular impact this prolonged ear-tease fostered for him. Imagine: when he finally did get to watch a complete Cat Power performance, that gig must have been momentous by default, simply by virtue of it actually happening. And make no mistake, the effusiveness of Aaron’s gushing suggested he would remain a steadfast fan for life; though the wearisome cycle he described made me initially reckon that Chan Marshall was either a pretentious wanker or a narcissistic wacko, the more I think about it, she might actually be a genius.

[When I told my friend Paul I was working on this piece, he shared a strikingly similar reminiscence of a Cat Power performance he went to in Claremont several years back. According to him, that show started 45-minutes late because Marshall kept sending out a roadie in her stead to fastidiously tune and retune her piano several times; Paul also added that when Chan finally took the stage, she was essentially dragged there by one of her handlers and never once used the piano which had been so painstakingly fussed over.]

To this day, I still know almost nothing about Chan Marshall or her music, beyond Aaron’s insinuation that she apparently doesn’t like performing it in front of people. I do have one Cat Power selection in my library—you wouldn’t be reading this if I didn’t—though the sole reason I own You Are Free is because one of the tracks features a guest appearance from Eddie Vedder, and that is the only song on the album I can recall ever listening to (I didn’t even purchase this disc, actually; mine is an advance promotional copy that was given to me when it was released in 2003—in a precisely literal sense, I could say to this CD, “you are free”).

Despite writing nearly 2,000 words up to this point, I still have not cued up a single song off You Are Free. I decided to take an atypical approach to this essay because I wanted to examine this particular offering in a more concentrated fashion. Although I’ve spent a lot of time heckling Cat Power thus far, my casual mockery isn’t motivated by any authentic malice—I’ve been doing it mostly just because I’m a dick sometimes. The truth is, I have lofty expectations for this record. Marshall’s work comes enthusiastically endorsed by multiple people I know, and the credentials she has cultivated since Aaron first told me about her (widespread critical acclaim, concert appearances at which she presumably actually performed, etc.) have made me far more curious about Cat Power now than I was 12 years ago. So I’m ready to give Chan Marshall my undivided attention. And just to make sure I’m listening closely, I’m going to tackle You Are Free one track at a time:

Okay, so the first song on the disc is called “I Don’t Blame You”. It’s essentially just a rudimentary piano melody with an austere vocal on top of it—it reminds me of all the songs in Tori Amos’s catalog I don’t like, mostly. Marshall’s voice sure is lovely, though. Delicate. Subdued. Lamenting. And the piano has obviously been meticulously tuned.

Up next is the quasi title-track, “Free”. This cut kicks off with a cycle of four stabbing power chords, so I’m anticipating that it maybe-possibly is going to rock. A few bars in, I’m slightly reminded of Elastica, which is totally fine with me because Elastica is awesome. Now an atonal second guitar part has joined the fray in the background—sweet, the song is building. Chan keeps repeating the same riff over and over again, but this motif is bound to make a huge impression when the drums kick in and the chorus arrives. Yep, there we go: a crunchy guitar just dropped in to double the chords, and… Oh… So, that only happened twice; now we’re back to the lumbering refrain she’s been playing this whole time. Okay, here come the drums… Wait, those aren’t real drums—they sound like the percussion pads on a child’s keyboard, and it’s not even a “beat,” really, just some clunky tap-tap kick-snare thing. Something’s bound to happen soon though, I can feel it. “Everybody / get together / free.” There aren’t a whole lot of lyrics in this song. Okay, any second now, the dynamic payoff is going to… Wait… It’s over? What the fuck, Chan? One dopey riff for three and a half minutes, “everybody, get together, free” like eight times, and that was it? Shit. That was anticlimactic.

Thankfully, “Good Woman” is much better. The warm guitar tone sells it: slow, chiming notes on reprise, but there’s some emotional atmosphere behind them. R.E.M. has built countless great tunes around this same minimalist approach, and it’s working just fine here. I also dig the fiddles randomly scissoring through; they sound like they’re playing the chords to an entirely different song, but that’s kind of neat and it works. This is super-droney and super-gloomy, but in a good way. Chan Marshall really does sing beautifully. Maybe I like Cat Power. My promo copy didn’t include a lyric booklet, but this track is making me sad, so I’m assuming it’s about something sad. That’s cool, I love sad music. Hey, there’s Eddie Vedder. He sounds sad, too.

Now we’re on to “Speak For Me”. Yeah, I can get on board with this—perhaps those first two unexceptional tracks were flukes? This is a perfect spot on the album to encounter a decent mid-tempo number that actually feels like a fully-formed song, with chord changes and a chorus and everything. This reminds me a bit of Neko Case, and I figured out a couple entries ago that I love Neko Case. I wonder if the Girl With the Neko Case Tote enjoys Cat Power. I should text her and ask her. There’s a nifty plinking piano line and a few layers of textured guitars along for the ride, so this track has a lot going for it. Good tune.

“Werewolf” is a rather glum exercise, but I like the sparse arrangement and the way the lazily-picked campfire acoustic sits way down in the mix and the pair of melancholy violins moaning on top of it. Marshall’s pipes are the clear centerpiece here, though; now that I’ve heard her run through a few modulations I’m getting a better sense of what all the fuss is about. I can’t tell if this song is about metaphorical werewolves or actual werewolves, but from the sound of things I’m reasonably certain it’s about werewolves who are non-metaphorically depressed. I’d probably be depressed if I was a werewolf, too. I can totally relate to this one.

Now I’m listening to “Fool”, which sounds exactly like what I assumed Cat Power would sound like when I didn’t know what Cat Power sounded like. This track isn’t doing much for me. The only instrumentation here is an elementary replicating guitar line; while there’s nothing wrong with “simple,” “Fool” veers much closer to “dull.” There are a couple of harmonizing vocal stratums present to beef up Marshall’s quaver and infuse the track with some nuance, but there’s nothing especially special about this one, I’m afraid. The promotional blurb on my CD notes that “You Are Free marks Chan Marshall’s first album of original material in nearly 4 years…” “Fool” is only four minutes long, and shouldn’t have taken any capable musician much longer than that to write—I can’t fathom what Chan was doing for the rest of those four years.

“He War” marks the record’s mid-point and would, I assume, be the last tune on Side A if I was listening to this on vinyl. That makes this a significant cut in terms of placement, though it’s not particularly significant in terms of quality. Actually, this is the first song I’ve heard on You Are Free that I’m having trouble distinguishing from other songs I’ve already heard on You Are Free—it basically just marries the repetitive chugging of “Free” to the loose groove of “Speak For Me”. I’ve heard enough sparks of excellence thus far to discern that Marshall is a skilled songwriter, but this is another one of those instances where Chan merely stumbles into a single serviceable riff and continuously recycles it for the entire track. This album is starting to frustrate me; I still have the haunting hum of “Werewolf” in my head and I keep wishing Cat Power was consistently as good as that track suggests. Marshall’s voice remains great, but “He War” doesn’t conjure up a very exciting backdrop for it. Instantly forgettable, this one. I hope Side B is stronger.

The second division begins with “Shaking Paper”, which is indeed stronger than the last two numbers. Marshall is still only playing one phrase, but it’s a good one, and this tune at least has a legitimate snapping drum beat carrying it along. There’s also a feedback-rich binary guitar track lending some effectively menacing ambiance. This one, I get.

“Baby Doll” is another somber narrative in the same tonal vein as “Werewolf”, and I like this one a lot, too. Marshall’s husky front-and-center vocals here are exquisite. She hits a couple of plainly-audible flubbed guitar notes, and I totally dig that she left the mistakes in; the emotional urgency of the track benefits from those spontaneous human touches. This song sounds like something you’d hear in a pivotal film scene—Jennifer Lawrence driving down a lonesome shadow-swept highway in a torrential rain storm looking gorgeously despondent at the end of the second act, perhaps. I’m not sure if that’s exactly what Chan Marshall had in mind when she wrote this; You Are Free came out in 2003, so she was probably picturing Kate Winslet instead. Nevertheless, “Baby Doll” is more evocative and potent than anything else I’ve heard on this disc. If all of Chan’s stuff was this strong, I would definitely consider going back and deleting all of the snarky jibes in this piece—but, you know, I’m not going to do that.

Alas, the title of the next song serves as an apt rejoinder to my supposition that maybe I’m starting to genuinely dig Cat Power: “Maybe Not”. I wasn’t craving yet another Chan-at-the-piano exercise, let alone one that is essentially a lackluster reworking of “I Don’t Blame You”; I think she may be playing the exact same chords, even. The blurb on my CD’s insert proclaims that “You Are Free is most assuredly not easy listening,” which now reads more like a warning than a sanction. I’m always suspicious when publicists whose job is to promote an album use “challenging” as a buzzword. That just seems like a democratic way of saying, “this record sounds terrible at first, but maybe it will grow on you if you listen to it a whole bunch of times.”

In a sterling example of what could only be kismet, one of the first lyrics I discern in the next cut is the phrase, “having difficulty.” And I am: “Names” is so drearily monotonous that merely lasting through it is a grueling task. It’s the longest track on the album, stretching to nearly five minutes (though it feels much longer; I had to pause the song in the middle for a cigarette break). Yet again, Marshall is milking a single dowdy and dismal piano melody all the way through the tune. Which means that “Names” sounds exactly like “Maybe Not”, which means that it also sounds exactly like “I Don’t Blame You”, which means that I’m bored. Even the vocal performance is uninspired—this track evidently bores Chan Marshall, too.

“Half of You” is half a song, more of an interlude than a lude. At least it’s pretty. It’s got drums, too. Actually, just one drum, resounding over the soft acoustic flutter like rolling thunder, or like a heartbeat, maybe. Similes.

Hey! The intro to “Keep On Runnin’ ” sort of reminds me of a slower rendering of the intro to Metallica’s “The Unforgiven”. Now, that’s a killer song. Kirk Hammett’s climactic solo on that number gives me goddamn chills. That dude’s one of the greatest lead guitarists ever, hands down. Metallica got all kinds of shit for making such a blatantly commercial record after cranking out four underground thrash classics in a row, but as far as I’m concerned, Metallica (more commonly known as “The Black Album”) is a truly remarkable piece of work that has aged splendidly. And not just the obvious tracks, either—give “My Friend of Misery” and “The God That Failed” another spin sometime soon; fucking fantastic stuff (“Don’t Tread on Me” still blows, though). That album also features the song “Of Wolf and Man”, which is about non-metaphorical werewolves (the lyrics don’t specify whether or not they’re depressed). Granted, “Of Wolf and Man” is kind of cheesy, but it’s still a solid cut with some excellent chugga-chugga riffing; in the pantheon of hard rock songs about lycanthropy, I’d rank it slightly higher than Ozzy Osbourne’s “Bark at the Moon” (which I have to assume is about metaphorical werewolves since actual werewolves howl at the moon rather than bark at it—though this distinction is somewhat puzzling since Ozzy had himself made-up like a non-metaphorical werewolf for the cover of the album and the song’s video). Anyway, The Black Album was a keystone disc for me that opened up a whole lot of sonic doors and proved to be a tantalizing viaduct to the more brutal metal I would soon become obsessed with. Since I heard “Enter Sandman” long before I heard “Fight Fire With Fire”, I wasn’t even cognizant that Metallica was toning down their sound—besides, I was too busy being floored by this aural juggernaut with walloping drums and an insanely cool riff progression to care (fun fact: “Sandman” was the very first song I learned to play on my very first guitar, a red Peavey Predator which I of course still have). Oh… “Keep On Runnin’ ” just ended. Shit, I wasn’t paying attention. It was… okay?

“Evolution” is a glaringly unsuitable title for a song that is practically identical to three other tracks on this disc. For all of their elemental equivalencies, “Evolution”, “Names”, “Maybe Not”, and “I Don’t Blame You” could have been recorded in a single sitting—hell, they could be alternate takes of the same tune which Chan Marshall simply superimposed different lyrics over. I’ve run out of clever ways to indicate when she’s playing the same plain melody ad nauseam for the entire song. Instead, I will merely note that “Evolution” features Marshall playing the same plain melody ad nauseam for the entire song. The best endorsement I can give this redundant ditty is that it marks the end of an album I have not enjoyed listening to very much.

So, there’s a really terrific EP buried amidst the hour-long straggle of detritus and tedium that comprises You Are Free, and there’s just enough testimony to support Chan Marshall’s classification as a worthy artist. However, I didn’t find the record “challenging” as much as I found it inconsistent and wearying. Marshall’s voice is sincerely magnificent, and I have no doubt she’s talented, but she seems to struggle with channeling her energies into songs which demonstrate both of those things at the same time. It’s possible she’s just one of those artists whose entire body of work needs to be absorbed to cultivate an inclusive appreciation—regardless, I have little desire to labor through five more Cat Power albums searching for a few additional tunes as good as the stronger tracks I’ve heard here. I highly doubt I will want to listen to You Are Free again for another 12 years, so I’m not sure there’s even a reason for me to keep my copy of it. Still, in the interest of thoroughness, I did replay the disc from start to finish while reading over what I’ve written here so far. End result: I’m still mostly meh about You Are Free, but now I’m totally in the mood to hear Metallica.

I also ended up texting The Girl With the Neko Case Tote to ask her feelings on Cat Power; as I guessed, she is a fan. Interestingly, her estimation of Chan Marshall’s work is markedly similar to mine—she’s just far more forgiving than I am of the bouts of ennui between Chan’s intermittent bursts of excellence. She also informed me that Marshall’s history has been dogged by recurring struggles with alcoholism. This data probably should have caused me to reconsider the way I’ve been making light of her eccentric fitfulness in this piece, but instead it makes me wonder why her music isn’t more interesting when she has such an artistically-suitable vice to inspire her (I told you I was a dick sometimes). Deducing that booze is at the root of Cat Power’s gig cancellations and wildly uneven songwriting doesn’t necessarily make me enjoy her work any more or less—though her conduct does disqualify her from being an Elegantly-Wasted alcoholic and shift her more into the realm of a too-wasted-to-play alcoholic, which is a far less appealing breed to me.

Anyway, I asked my secret soul-mate’s permission to quote her response because it provided a nice balance to my own conclusions. This is what she typed:

“Here’s the thing with Cat Power tracks, they are either stunning… OR they’re… sort of eh matte mess because they sound half finished or undone or loose at the seams.”

This seemed to be right in line with Aaron’s assessment from 12 years earlier. Which makes me suspect that acknowledging Cat Power is terrible a lot of the time is an integral part of being a Cat Power fan. When I shared how unimpressed I was by Chan’s brand of prosaic, single-idea song-writing, she added:

“Baby listen, she’s drunk. And she’s Cat Power. So we forgive her and just stop listening to her songs for a while. Until I or we (Royal) become drunk and take her records off the shelf… And appreciate her humanity in all its stand-up and stumbling glory… She reminds us of someone we know, or someone we sometimes have been.”

The Girl With The Neko Case Tote may be onto something there. This entire installment has been crafted under the influence of mere coffee, so I might be missing the point because I’m missing a key ingredient of the Cat Power recipe. I wouldn’t be any kind of reporter if I didn’t pursue every possible avenue of our story here, which is why I’ve decided to do some field research: I have just opened a beer, and I’m going to proceed to get heavily intoxicated while listening to You Are Free one more time before I write the conclusion to this essay…

[a couple hours later] Okay, I’m drunk now and I played the disc again. Here’s what I found out: Ritual Brewing Company’s “Love & Malt” brown ale is mighty tasty. Still, the tunes I didn’t already enjoy on You Are Free only sound marginally better to me when I’m smashed—except for “I Don’t Blame You”, which sounds approximately 41% better. However, after I was done listening to Chan, I went ahead and cued up Metallica’s Black Album, and “Nothing Else Matters” sounds waaaaaaay better when I’m drunk (“Don’t Tread on Me” still blows, though).

So now I’m loaded and I have no idea how to finish this piece (which, consequently, likely explains why many of the songs on You Are Free sound as slapdash and half-formed as they do). Reading back, I’m realizing this entry has been a rather vicious one. That’s not something I’ll necessarily apologize for—hey, I did my due diligence; I’ve listened to the record three times now, and by every objective criterion it’s more not-good than good. But after conscientiously ruminating on why the Cat Power apologue resonates as so uninviting to me, I think an explanation may have dawned on me: Chan Marshall is unstable, often disappointing, and she spent many years squandering her tremendous potential because of her self-destructive habits…

She does, indeed, remind me of “someone [I] sometimes have been.” And that evocation isn’t a particularly welcome one, because I’ve never liked that person a whole lot.

Goddamn. That’s a non-metaphorically depressing epiphany right there.

November 28, 2015

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