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Bearable | A Reddie Fanfiction

Read it from the beginning

Chapter 1

"Bill, why? Why would you say yes to that party? We don't know him! What if he's some serial killer? What if he tries to get us to do drugs? What if he kills us or lives in a dumpster or something?" Eddie is erratic, his drink still in his hand. They were hardly off the block of the little cafe known as Portland Authentic. Eddie hadn't been too fond of the guy behind the counter, mostly because he had written 'Eds' on his coffee cup. "I mean- we only just got to Portland and you're already going to get us killed or something!"

"Eddie, it'll be fine," Stan is the one to cut in with reassurance, taking a sip from his own cup and somehow not flinching at the taste of the straight caffeine, "Yeah, he was a little energetic but he didn't seem malicious. I think it'll be a good opportunity to get to know some new people." Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but Bill beat him to it, and no one had the disrespect to talk over Bill. That was just... off limits, so Eddie shut his mouth again and tried not to grimace.

"Buh-buh-besides," He started, one hand in the pocket of his jeans, the other soaking up the warmth of his cinnamon cappuccino, "It'll be guh-good to get out and see what kind of people Portland has to offer." With that, the discussion was closed, and Eddie let it drop with just a sigh, trying to shake away the lingering annoyance clinging to his mind. There were too many good things about Portland to worry about the bad things- in just a few days he would be working towards his dream as a doctor- he had always wanted to be a doctor. When he was younger, he had wanted his career to be within the health arena for the sake of reassuring his mother that he could take care of himself without being stuck behind a desk- now, though, he wanted to become a doctor to prove his mother wrong, to learn all sorts of things that would help him confirm that he wasn't sick, and had never been sick like Sonia Kaspbrak had said he was.

The rest of the walk back home was near silent, consisting of craned necks and obvious gawking- Portland really was gorgeous, and so different from Derry. Rather than the tiny, modest homes Eddie and his friends grew up knowing, almost everything in the downtown area was some form of 19th century architecture or something alike- each building consisted of warm tones, arched windows, grand streetlamps with pots of colourful flowers. Eddie can't even imagine what it must look like in the daylight.

"Oh, here's my work," Stan said, seeming not to have realized what street they were wandering down. The three halted outside of a small flower shop, Roses on Deane, and approached the large, open windows in the front. The lights were out inside, obviously, but it was still possible to make out the shapes of many many bouquets. Stan had managed to score a job a few months back thanks to a cousin who had a friend who owned the place, and though Stan never considered himself a huge fan of flowers, Eddie could see how the place would fit him. At least one of them had a job- Eddie shudders to think that there is yet another huge thing he needs to get done this weekend. If he doesn't have a job by next weekend then he won't be able to pitch in to help with rent. Bill, who had been working at the library back home, had been transferred here too, so he was also getting payed bi-weekly. Eddie was alone in his unemployment, but that was okay. He was smart, and efficient, and he would get a job sooner or later somewhere.

"When do you start?" He asked, finally bringing his rapidly-cooling drink up to his lips. He braced himself for a horrid taste, taking a slow, tentative sip, and almost letting a sound of approval slip past his lips. It didn't... It didn't taste horrible. Peppermint was okay, in his opinion, and it balanced out the bitterness of the coffee just right.

"Tuesday at 5:00," Stan took one last glance through the window, smiling serenely and turning to continue on to their new apartment. Again, the three fell into silence, calm and comfortable. They walked another three blocks before spotting their building, and Bill was the one to pull out an access card to scan at the door. Their bags were already up in their house, and Eddie had even made a few comments on how he appreciated the security. Electronic locks were unheard of to Eddie until today, and he was pleased. Now, he was too exhausted to be pleased. His coffee had him buzzing, and he would force himself to stay awake until his suitcase was unpacked, but he couldn't wait to curl up in his new bed, away from his hometown for the first time in years.

"We'll have to go grocery shopping tuh-tomorrow," Bill hummed half to himself as he stepped into the elevator, clicking the button labeled with a '2'. "We won't have any fuh-fuh-food. I'll buy us breakfast in the morning."

"Thanks, Bill," Stan smiles, "We can make a meal plan, budget things out. Just to make sure we can always make rent." Eddie nodded along, and took another long sip of the minty-bitter drink in his hand.

"We should go look at the campus. I want to find out where my classes are, maybe." Eddie found himself rocking back and forth on his heels, watching the little glowing number above the elevator buttons blink from 'G' to '1' to, at last, '2'. With a ding, the doors slid open, and a dim hallway was presented to them, the lights on low now that it was just about 10:00 pm.

"I want to go see Back Cove Park at some point. The bird watching is great. They have egrets sometimes, and other birds I haven't seen yet. I always go there when I visit- it's like tradition." Stifling a yawn (not because of the bird talk- Eddie was just tired) Eddie nodded his head. In all honesty, a nature walk sounded nice. Already, he was missing the Barrens, the poor dam he remembers building with Bill ages and ages ago. "It's right on the water, so we can go fishing too, or swimming if you guys wanted to. It isn't always as warm as it is tonight, and it's only getting colder, but..." Stan shrugs. They arrive at their apartment door, number 29, and yet again Bill is the one to pull out his key and stick it into the lock, giving it a twist and pushing the door wide open. Eddie steps inside first, flicking on the light and taking in the sight of his new apartment.

The door opened up into a short hallway. To his direct right there was a door leading to a small closet. A little ways ahead, the hallway broke both left and right, the left way leading to the kitchen and living room along with the doors to the balcony and Bill's room- in turn, the right way led to the main bathroom and the two other bedrooms reserved for Eddie and Stan.

"Wuh-well, I guess this is goodnight," Bill says, shutting the door behind him and kicking off his shoes, "We all have a l-lot of unpacking to do, I'm sh-sure." Both Stan and Eddie nod in near-perfect unison.

"Goodnight, you guys. Enjoy your first sleep in our new house." Stan speaks with a grin, staring at both Eddie and Bill with that intense hazel gaze that seems to communicate the intense reality of the situation. The three men had made it out of their childhood town, and now they were living on their own. They really weren't children anymore. Along with that look in Stan's eyes came a heavy feeling of bittersweetness- Derry was gone, now, and with it, Eddie's childhood. He smiled at his two best friends, and then turned down the hallway to greet his room.

-----

"Alright, that's everything," Ben says as the doors to the cafe swing shut and he locks them tight.

"Another job well done, boy! Another fantastic job, I'd say!" Richie throws one arm over Ben's shoulders, and then the other pulls in Bev by the arm. Crushing his two buddies in a double side-hug, he speaks in his almost-perfected MovieTone Newsreel Announcer Voice, disturbing the silence of the dark Portland streets, "You're both quite the caffeine-mixin' maestros, eh? You'll do great things for this world, great things!"

"Beep-beep, Richie. I'm exhausted." Beverly was smiling, sure, but Richie really could tell that she was done with today. He let both she and Ben go, toning down his behavior and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, offering one to each along with his lighter. Ben declined as politely as possible, so Richie and Bev were left to smoke without him.

"You'll get those beers for me, won't you?" Richie asks, taking a drag and relishing in the way the smoke filled his lungs. He should probably quit sooner or later, huh? Maybe one day. "I've got the cash back home. I'll give it to you and you can just go buy whatever you want. Party booze of your choice." Ben let out a chuckle, waving a hand in front of his face to show his dislike of the cigarette smoke. Richie mumbled something akin to an apology.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get it. And don't worry about paying me back, I'll be drinking it too." Richie beamed. With a light punch to the shoulder, he turned his attention to Bev, ready to play a little bit of Cupid.

"You're coming too, right Bevvie?" He asked the question as if it were nothing, oh-so subtly bumping Ben with his elbow. Beverly shrugged.

"Probably. It's basically a sin to miss out on an infamous Tozier party, isn't it?" She placed the cigarette against her lips, and puffed out smoke right after. "What else is happening other than drinking too much and getting the Police called on us for being too loud?" Richie couldn't help but snicker at that. The Police had, on numerous occasions, been called on him for playing his music at ungodly levels, but, I mean, come on, he has fantastic taste and the world needs to know it.

"Who knows, maybe some pin the tail on the donkey? Musical chairs?" Ben and Beverly both let out a snort, the redhead spinning to face Richie with suddenly bright eyes.

"Please," She said with a wide, bright smile, "I would pay to see you get annihilated by Ben."

"Excuse me, Miss Marsh, but I pride myself on being a musical chairs master! I was unbeatable in my fifth grade class!" Placing a feign-offended hand on his chest, Richie guffawed, upturning his nose in mock disgust. Beverly was laughing now, a light and cheery sound almost like the jingling of the bell in the cafe but a little less annoying. The bell also didn't make Ben's face light up, and he didn't want to hear the bell forever.

"Probably because you were built like string cheese, Richie- No offense, of course." Beverly only laughed harder at Ben's quip, and yeah, Richie admits that it was pretty good and about 99% true.

"The best damn string cheese you've ever tasted, Haystack," Richie shot his friend a wink, lifting one foot and crushing his cigarette out on the sole of his shoe, "Now, my dearests, I must depart- nice work we did today, you two!" Richie flicked the butt away, speaking over his shoulder as he set off in the direction of home. "I'll see you both at my party!" He spins on his heel, waving Ben and Bev off with one last peace sign before continuing on into the darkness. Richie hummed a little tune to himself, a pep in his step despite his light tiredness. Oh, how he wanted to get home- the idea of cracking open a soda and sitting in front of the TV sounded pretty damn great right about now. For a Friday night the world was surprisingly quiet- the same wouldn't be said about tomorrow. Toziers were born to party. Richie's dad had thrown some ragers in his teenage days, and so had his mom- now, it was his turn to take on the family name and keep that legacy going. Other than beer he probably needed some snacks, chips or cookies or as Ben had so wonderfully suggested string cheese because who doesn't like string cheese? He made a mental note to go grocery shopping tomorrow and hoped that he didn't forget it.

Richie's apartment came into view, a pretty little six floor building made of a nice red brick. He lived on the top floor and his neighbors probably hated him for reasons that should be obvious enough but he'd yet to be kicked out which meant he still had some boundaries to push. He'd been brewing up a new party playlist for a few days now and he made yet another mental note to throw on 'Dancing Queen'. Richie's humming transformed into whistling as he pulled open the door to his building, waving to the late-night receptionist, a kind young lady who hated his guts and probably thought he was flirting with her all the time when he really didn't even swing that way.

"Good evening, m'lady," He said with a goofy, lopsided grin, earning a scowl over the top of a home-deco magazine, "Quite the swell night it is," He didn't linger long, pressing the call button for the elevator and stepping inside. He tapped '6' and waited, his spirits high, excited for tomorrow. He liked getting ready for parties. He liked the decorations he always put up, the arrangement of the snacks that he put too much thought into, and the anticipation of being the host because that always meant most eyes were on him. Up up up the elevator went, and let out a happy little ding as the doors peeled back open and he went right to his door. Richie pulled out his keys, jamming them into the doorknob and pushing the door open to reveal the space inside. "Honey, I'm home!" He called out the words, arms out at his side in a motion of grandeur. Of course, there was no response, and he kicked the door shut with his heel. Richie tossed his keys onto the little table by the door, toeing off each shoe in turn and leaving them discarded in the middle of the entryway.

"Hey there, babes," His first stop was the fish tank on the kitchen counter, packed with swimming little neon tetra and angelfish and Richie's prized bala shark he named Bella- creative, he knows- to sprinkle in some food. The little jar was just beside the aquarium, and he popped off the lid, shaking it above the open water and watching his little pals swim forth for their dinner. With his lasting grin, Richie let out a chuckle, his heart swelling at the sight of his aquatic children as he set the food back on the counter and took a step away. His own stomach let out a growl, and he realized for the first time that he hasn't eaten since after his last class, way back at 3:00. Popping open his fridge, Richie scanned it's contents- yep, he really needed to go get food tomorrow. There was next to nothing. He settled half-reluctantly on some month-old instant ramen and cooked it up with ease. Richie hadn't had instant ramen in ages, but there was a good amount of nostalgia contained within the simple dish. It had carried him through high school one plastic cup at a time, helping him fight through long nights of studying and even a nasty breakup.

The microwave let out three beeps, calling out 'Hey! I'm done, come eat me!' with each and every one. Richie ate it as he hastily cleaned up the kitchen, throwing dishes in the dishwasher and even taking the time to watch a casserole dish by hand, putting on his playlist but keeping the speakers on a low volume for the sake of his neighbors. No more than 15 minutes passed and then he was done, finally allowing himself to do what he's been anticipating all day. With a Pepsi in hand, he made the couch his home, curling up in a knitted blanket and tuning into 'Friends'. As he watched, one eye always on the TV, he snatched the black nail polish from it's spot on the coffee table and began to paint it over the chipped remnants of what was already there. At some point, after they'd dried, he ended up falling asleep on the sofa.

#Richie Tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #reddie #it movie #it #it 2017 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it 2019 #gay clown movie #bill denbrough #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #ben hanscom #stan uris #stanley uris #stenbrough #benverly #reddie fanfiction

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the-sarcastic-trashmouth · 5 years

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Someone like you (Request)

Prompt: I really loved your last fanfic and the mention of Eddie's feelings to Bill made me happy so If you still take requests, I would like to read some Kaspbrough--Anonymous

Summary: “You think I will find someone?” Eddie asked quietly, feeling that twist in his gut flare up like it always did whenever he’d think about growing older.

“Of cuh--course I do.” Bill offers him a warm smile that struck Eddie in ways he had never noticed before.

Bill was beautiful.

Like actually beautiful, from his sleep muzzled hair to his dorky grin that made Eddie’s heart flutter rapidly. Apparently, it was too hot for a shirt since it was summer, but the way Bill’s body looked was… breath-taking. Now, he wasn’t overly muscular where it was gross to look at. He was perfectly shaped in ways that Eddie wanted to be in his arms--And whoa, wait a minute.

Eddie had never noticed it, but now, seeing Bill in a new light put a lot of things into perceptive for him. Now that he was actually looking at Bill, he knew immediately that he was never going to be able to see him again. That was rather eye-opening and almost terrifying because this was his best friend… he wasn’t supposed to like Bill like this, right?

Pairing: Bill Denbrough x Eddie Kaspbrak

Edward Kaspbrak is someone who never understood what people meant when they say that love is the most important feeling in the world. Maybe he hasn’t had that same epiphany that the rest of the others have, so he can’t truly understand what they mean. That being said, Eddie felt like for all of his friends because they were people who loved and accepted him for being the way he was.

“So, Eddie Spaghetti, is there anyone that has caught the eye of the ever-so-lovely Doctor K?” Richie asked, glancing up from the comic book he was reading. They were currently in Richie’s room since a lot of the other losers were out doing other things.

“What do you mean?” Eddie frowns softly, sitting up on the bed so he can look at Richie better.

“I mean is there anyone you love?” Richie snorts as Eddie’s face heats up gently.

“I-I don’t know! I mean do you have someone you like?” Eddie demanded when Richie shrugs.

“I asked you first. Come on, there’s no one that you are so happy to see?” Richie quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I… I really don’t know. I never thought about it, I guess.” Eddie shrugs when Richie immediately shot up from the bed.

“What? Are you kidding me?” Richie demanded as Eddie’s eyes widened.

“Why do you care so much?” Eddie huffed, crossing his arms.

“Because Eds, we’re about to be seniors this year! This is the year that you are supposed to go to the dance! Have fun! Enjoy the last year of public school before we are shipped off to who-knows-where to a college next fall!” Richie exclaims.

“First off, don’t call me Eds. Second off, why does it matter? As you said, it’s my senior year and I want to have fun. I can have fun without a lover.” Eddie comments before turning his attention back to his own comic book when Richie snatched and tossed it on to the other side of the bed. “Richie!” He screeched.

“Eddie! You can’t--You gotta do something! You’ve never had your first kiss--No, Bev doesn’t count we were playing spin the bottle!” Richie countered before Eddie could open his mouth. “Okay, tell me what you look for in a person.” Richie gestures to Eddie who groans.

“Dude, I don’t like anyone. Why is this such a big deal?” He huffed.

“Because I have Stan, Ben and Bev are dating, Mike has that girl named Kayla who helps out on the farm and Bill is just… Bill. We all have someone but you.” Richie points out, causing a scowl to spread across Eddie’s face.

“I wasn’t aware of that. Thanks.” He replied with sarcasm dripping in his tone.

“Spaghetti man, come on. What do you look for in someone?” Richie asked, tilting his head as Eddie threw up his hands with a loud groan.

“I don’t know! Someone who doesn’t mind my mother? Because that’s gonna stupid show stopper! No one can handle her! I can’t even handle her sometimes!” He exclaims.

“Hey, I can handle her just fine.” Richie grins as Eddie hit him in the face with a pillow. “Hey! Don’t disrespect your Step-Daddy!” He countered.

“No one will ever call you that! How does Stan put up with your shit sometimes?” Eddie huffs when Richie laughs.

“Slowly and then all at once.” Richie grins as Eddie rolled his eyes. “However, this isn’t about Stan and me, it’s about you.” He explains.

“Look, I really don’t know. I guess I never thought about it since I knew with my mom… I’d probably never be with anyone. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ll live alone so lay off.” Eddie comments before snagging the comic book and ripping it open.

“Eds, you’re not gonna be alone forever. I mean… shit--If I was able to bag a cutie like Staniel then I’m sure you can get someone too.” Richie points out, making Eddie roll his eyes again.

The conversation was dropped, which Eddie was more than grateful for.

Now that Richie mentioned it, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about it and it’s almost two months. His mind was racing and soon he found himself envisioning a faceless person who would love him and they’d grow old together. His dreams were becoming more realistic with a marriage, adopting pets, and other things you would normally do to grow up.

Soon, there was a hole blooming in his chest at the feeling of longing for that contact that his dreams were giving him. Some nights he’d wake up with tears in his eyes and a cold sweat breaking out across his body from the feeling. He wanted nothing more than to be loved and now he blamed Richie for making these feelings come to life.

The losers all decided to have a sleepover down in Bill’s basement since there were furniture and other items that others could sleep on. They had been watching movies and eating junk food just like they always did throughout the years. Eddie was the first one to pass out since his mother had him on a strict sleeping schedule that even through the summer held it’s value.

Eddie was laying across the love-seat, dreaming vividly of this faceless person who for the first time spoke--I love you--Causing Eddie to wake up a sharp gasp as he looked around the darkened room to see the others were asleep. The only light source was the little ray of moonlight that shined through the small window. He felt goose flesh spread across his arms and legs, making him shiver as tears flooded his eyes.

“Eddie?” Bill’s voice spoke softly as Eddie jolted before sitting up to see Bill on the recliner beside him. “Yuh--You okay?” He asked, taking in the flushed features on the younger one’s face.

“I’m fine,” Eddie assured, swiping at both his cheeks to make the tears stop.

“Eddie, duh--don’t lie to me. Come on, luh-let’s get you some water.” Bill stood up from the recliner before offering out a hand with a gentle smile spread across his lips.

Eddie looked from his hand up to Bill’s face, taking each feature the boy had with a photographic memory. He swallowed the hard lump in his throat before reaching out and snagging Bill’s hand as the latter helped him stand. Eddie’s legs felt slightly wobbly, but with Bill’s support, they were able to go upstairs without waking anyone else up.

“Suh--So, you gonna talk to me?” Bill asked, walking over to the cupboards to get some cups as Eddie sat at the small table.

“Just dreams.” Eddie shrugs, not wanting to really offer any more than that.

“Juh-Just dreams? Like nuh-nightmares?” Bill asked as Eddie shakes his head.

“No, they’re good dreams.” He assured, only further the crease in Bill’s brow.

“Oh-Okay, then what’s the pruh-problem?” Bill asked, getting them both a drink before setting a cup down in front of Eddie who gratefully gulped almost half the liquid down.

“Because they are dreams about being with someone. I never worried about this stuff before and then… then Richie asked me who I liked and who I was looking for in a person.” Eddie explains as Bill rolls his eyes.

“Ruh--Richie does that shit to get a rise out of yuh-you,” Bill comments softly. “If you duh--don’t like someone then don’t like sum-someone.” He explains as Eddie shrugs.

“It’s not that I don’t… I just… I never really thought about it before until now. I guess I had accepted that I’d probably never leave this dumb town.” Eddie sighed shakily when Bill frowns.

“Eddie, yuh--you’re a smart guy. You’ll go far… Fuh--Far away from here. And you’ll meet someone. You’re guh--going on eighteen this year. You have the--the rest of your life.” Bill points out before taking a drink.

“Is that what you do? Is that why you aren’t with anyone?” Eddie asked quietly when Bill snorts.

“I’ve juh-just been dealing wuh--with a lot of things. Puh--Parents up my ass. Buh--Baseball. I don’t huh--have time for those things, I guess. Buh--But that doesn’t mean I don’t wuh--want it.” He explains as Eddie nods.

“You think I will find someone?” Eddie asked quietly, feeling that twist in his gut flare up like it always did whenever he’d think about growing older.

“Of cuh--course I do.” Bill offers him a warm smile that struck Eddie in ways he had never noticed before.

Bill was beautiful.

Like actually beautiful, from his sleep muzzled hair to his dorky grin that made Eddie’s heart flutter rapidly. Apparently it was too hot for a shirt since it was summer, but the way Bill’s body looked was… breath-taking. Now, he wasn’t overly muscular where it was gross to look at. He was perfectly shaped in ways that Eddie wanted to be in his arms--And whoa, wait a minute.

“Nuh--Now, how about we talk about sum--something else for a little bit.” Bill offers. “Get your muh--mind off everything.” He explains as Eddie nods dumbly.

The rest of the night, Bill talked to Eddie about a lot of things. Most things that Eddie had no idea was going on inside of Bill’s head. He’s never felt as close to someone until tonight and soon he found himself speaking about things he kept inside. It was the most liberating thing that Eddie has ever done aside from standing up against his mother. And that’s when it hit him… He realized he was in love with Bill… Because those feelings he had for the others were different when he thought about Bill…

He was royally screwed.

About a week after the sleepover, Eddie cornered Richie in the clubhouse before the others came so he could yell at him. Well, it was more like high-pitched squeaks as Richie tried to dissect what the poor frantic boy was trying to say. Between his flailing arms and face as red as a tomato, Richie pieced together that Eddie was in love.

“Who is it!” Richie exclaims excitedly as Eddie looks at him.

“That is not the point of this conversation you absolute goober!” He exclaims, beating on Richie’s chest with his fists.

“Whoa! Whoa, calm down! You look like you’re going to have an aneurism!” Riche cackles when Eddie’s eyes darkened in anger. “Alright, hold on you little demon. You short people get easily angered because you’re closer to Satan I swear.” He snorts.

“Richie!” He huffed as Richie’s hands shot up in surrender. “You are an asshole! Do you know that? This is all your fucking fault! I was fine until you had to open your dumbass Trashmouth like you always do!” He exclaims, tears forming in his eyes as Richie froze.

“Hey, what are you talking about? Is it--Holy shit, Eds is it me?” He asked as Eddie’s face twisted in disgusted.

“No! I’d rather lick a fucking stump!” Eddie barked, making Richie pout his lips.

“Okay, so… so what’s this about? Because you like someone? How bad can it be?” Richie quirked an eyebrow at him as Eddie scrubbed his hands through his hair.

“It’s very bad! It’s the worst and I can’t stop it! Make it stop!” He begged when Richie looked down at him in complete shock.

“Eddie, who the hell do you like?” He asked before a sob escapes Eddie’s trembling lips.

“I can’t love them… I can’t they won’t… They don’t like me.” He whispered before collapsing against Richie’s chest.

“Eds, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. Is it Stan?” Richie asked, tensing slightly as Eddie huffed and pulled away.

“No! It’s Bill! Okay! I think I might be in love with Bill!” He exclaims, yanking at his hair. “I mean my dreams started off with a faceless person and now they are all Bill! Bill this! Bill that! It’s all BILL!” He throws his hands up as Richie watches him explode.

“Whoa, wait… You got a crush on Billiam? Shit, my dude, this club really stays close huh?” He snorts, earning a murderous look from Eddie. “Why is it so bad that you like Bill? I mean, it is Bill and he’s got the brains of a walnut.” Richie points out.

“You are not helping me here,” Eddie comments back as Richie snorts before shaking his head.

“Hey, I’m not the one who is in love with him.” Richie resorts when Eddie groaned covering his face. “I actually find it adorable. I mean, I’m happy for you.” He grins as Eddie’s hands slowly scrape down his face.

“I can’t be though! I’m a boy and so is Bill!” He explains, making Richie quirk a brow.

“And? Stan and I are boys who are dating.” Richie points out. “Look, I know what your mom is like. She drilled it into your head that they are nasty disease filled people who worship the devil or some religious B-S like that. But I can assure you that it’s not anything like that. You can’t help who you love, Eds.” He shrugs when Eddie thumped down on the hammock.

“What do I do? I mean… Bill has only dated girls. What if… What if I tell him and suddenly everything falls apart. I’ll lose all my friends or he will and we won’t be able to be in a room together… and then--” Eddie starts to hyperventilate when Richie slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Oh-kay, we’re gonna need you to tone that shit down,” Richie comments with wide eyes. “Look, this is Bill we’re talking about here. The boy who can’t help but be nice to everyone. Even those who don’t deserve it. That being said, Bill has only dated girls and they’ve all ended in disaster. So maybe you are the beautiful angel he needs to have a good relationship! Besides, Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough love you!” He explains as Eddie’s face flushes.

“Shut up…” Eddie mumbles before they both sat in silence for a few moments. Just as he was about to ask Richie for help the hatch opened before the other losers finally came in and the conversation was dropped… again.

“Heh--Hey, Eddie.” Bill comments, walking home with him later that night as Eddie hums softly. “Do you… Did I do sum--something wrong?” He asked quietly as Eddie jerked his head up to meet Bill’s worried gaze.

“Wha--What? What do you mean?” Eddie’s voice cracked slightly as his heart pounded against his chest.

“Wuh--Well, it felt like you wuh--were avoiding me a lot lately. Tuh--Today just proved it. We were paired up fuh--for the Quarry and you looked up--upset. If I did something… I’m--I’m sorry.” He apologized as Eddie’s heart ceased tightly.

“Jesus, Bill, No! No, that’s not… Fuck--I’m the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to act that way, I swear.” Eddie assures, waving his hands around as Bill shoved his hands into his jacket’s pockets.

“Thuh--Then why did you act like that?” Bill questioned with a gentle frown.

“Promise you won’t hate me. No matter what I say right now?” Eddie asked, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk as Bill almost bumped into him.

“Eddie--” He’s cut off.

“Promise me! Please, I need to know that you won’t hate me.” Eddie whispered as Bill blinked in shock before looking at Eddie.

“I pruh--promise, Eddie. Whatever it is.” He assured, motioning the ‘cross-my-heart’ before looking back to Eddie who let out a shaky breath.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me… I tried to make it go away, but I can’t. You’re so sweet to me and you listen to me. You’ve always been there for me.” Eddie explains as Bill nods, motioning for him to continue. “So… So it came to a little shocking when I realized that this warmth in my chest that I feel around you is love…” He laughs wetly, tears flooding down his face as he chokes on his breath. “I’m in love with you, Bill. I think I always have been, I just never had it at face value before.” He whispered.

Bill’s eyes widened as he looked at Eddie who was borderline sobbing at this point. His brain finally caught up to register that Eddie was in love with him. That’s why he was acting that way… He wanted to get rid of the feelings because he thought Bill would hate him.

Did he love Eddie? I mean he’s always been protective over the little hypochondriac… But was that feeling love? He thought he had feelings for Stan, but he believes that it was a crush for him to figure out that hey he liked boys too. But he wanted to hug Eddie, keep him from ever crying again because this look was the most heartbreaking thing he’s ever seen.

“Buh--Bill? Please, say something.” Eddie whispered, feeling his body growing cold as he flinched when Bill stepped forward. He opened his mouth to call out for him again onto to have his face buried against Bill’s chest, taking in the scent of cologne.

“Thuh--Thank you,” Bill whispered as Eddie’s face twisted in confusion before he looked up at Bill. “Yuh--You made me realize that it wuh--was love I felt for you. I--I didn’t understand it. Juh--Just like you. But it’s there. I never… I never explore thuh--this before.” Bill explains when Eddie shook his head.

“Wah--Wait a minute… Are you… You mean you love me, too?” Eddie asked quietly.

“I thuh--think so. I’d like to explore this muh--more if you are.” Bill offers.

“Holy shit, wait this is not what I thought was gonna happen. I need a moment.” Eddie’s breathing started to pick up when Bill wrapped his hands on Eddie’s shoulders before lowering them down to the curb.

“Bruh--Breathe with me.” He mimicked a slow inhale and exhale to help Eddie breathe normally. “Yuh--You okay?” He asked as Eddie nods, not yet trusting his voice when he started to shiver from the cold.

Bill immediately stood up, ripping off his jacket before placing it onto Eddie’s shoulders as the two boys shared a look. Bill offers him a sheepish smile as Eddie’s hands slowly curl around the fabric and hold it closer to him. He sat back down next to Eddie whose mind was racing before everything shouted the same thing.

Bill turned to Eddie, ready to ask if he was okay again when suddenly, Eddie’s lips had smashed against his own. Bill’s eyes widened more out of shock than anything before he immediately cupped Eddie’s face and deepened the kiss. Eddie’s dreams didn’t do Bill the justice that he deserved because this kiss was everything and more.

“Oh… Oh my god.” Eddie whispered as he pulled back when Bill snorted.

“Guh--Good, oh my god, ruh--right?” He asked, making Eddie nod dumbly.

“Perfect,” Eddie assured when Bill snorts before bumping their foreheads together. “I guess you’re right. I did find someone.” He whispered softly. “Someone like you.” He grins softly.

Bill smiles and pulls him into another kiss as Eddie tilts his head to the side, allowing Bill to take the lead again. Eddie would have to go home soon, but right here and right now, Eddie couldn’t care less that his mother was probably freaking out. Because he was exactly where he was supposed to be with the person of his dreams.

#Bill Denbrough x Eddie Kaspbrak #Kaspbrough #Eddie loves Bill #Bill loves Eddie #Dorks in love #Sonia's A+ parenting #Eddie doesn't think he deserves love #Richie is a little shit #Richie is a good best friend #Eddie and Richie bicker #First kiss #Getting together #Happy ending #Angst with fluff #Bill is a bisexual disaster #He's a walnut

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xtrashmammalstefx · 5 years

Text

You’re Drunk (Harry x Reader SMUT, The Riot Club)

Requested & Inspired by: @xcazzax

WARNING: smut, cursing, all that good stuff

I have met plenty of boys in my life but none have as relentless and utterly stupid annoying as Harry. He walked about Oxford thinking he was all high and mighty; like he owned the bloody place. He was snobby to the extreme; he and his mates. But most of all he refused time and time again to leave me the fuck alone!

“Hello darling,” he greeted leaning outside the classroom where I had a Literature class. He smiled at me that stupid ‘you know you want to fuck me’ smile.

“Go away,” I groaned pushing passed him.

“Oof! That’s not very polite now is it?”

“Neither is stalking girls outside their classrooms,” I said.

“It’s not stalking so much as it is me waiting for your class to end for the day so that I may take you on a proper date,” he said.

“In your dreams Harry,” I rolled my eyes.

“The wet ones especially but that’s beside the point,” he pushed on wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “Come on Y/N you have to admit I’m not the only one feeling something here.”

I looked up at him and was nearly struck dumb by those bloody angelic blue eyes of his. Damn him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now if you would so kind as to remove your arm before I kick you so hard in the bollocks your precious family line will finally come to an end.”

“Is that your way of saying you love me?” he smirked.

I smiled, fighting back laughter, and rolled my eyes. “Bye Harry.”

As I walked away he hollered back. “There’s a party at the old manor this weekend.”

“And why should I care?”

“Because I’m inviting you of course!” he said. “You need not speak to me or even acknowledge me. There’s going to be plenty of booze and music for you to lose your pretty little head in.”

“If I say yes will you fuck off already?”

“If that’s what you wish, my love.”

I sighed. “Fine but you better not try anything or so help me.”

“Yeah, yeah you’ll cut my bollocks off I get it!”

Finally, the night of the party arrived. I wore a simple dress, not wanting to reveal too much, and prayed that this get together would actually be fun for me. A lot of the guests were already pretty smashed by the time I got there. I grabbed a beer from a nearby large ice bucket and looked around for a nice corner to hide in (I can’t for the life of me stand drunk people and do my best to avoid them at all costs). I was still looking when an arm snaked itself around my waist and a pair of lips pecked at my neck.

“Hello dear,” Harry muttered. “You look absolutely ravishing tonight.”

“Harry, get off me,” I said shrugging him off. I took a swig of my beer and tried my best to ignore him.

“What can’t a man shower the love of his life with affection?” he smiled.

“I thought you said I need not acknowledge you?” I smirked.

“Yeah but… how long would that last eh?” he said stepping closer to me. “I know you feel it Y/N. I can sense it.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said as he continued to look at me seductively.

“Like how? Hm?” He was in front of me now and I could feel his breath on my face… and smell all the booze on it as well. “I’m just looking at you the way I always have… the way I always will.”

His lips pecked mine and my whole body trembled. Not with fright but with… longing.

“Why must you do this?” I whispered.

“Do what?”

“Make me want this… want you?”

He smiled victoriously. “I knew you could feel it.”

I shook my head. “I need air,” I reached out and grabbed a couple more beers. “And loads more of these.”

I went out onto the balcony where (after another trip back to the ice bucket) I drowned my unholy desire in six beers. By the time I finished the last I could barely walk. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to make it back to my dorm room safe and sound so I stumbled my way upstairs.

“Y/N, where-uh-hic-are you guh-going?” Harry said stumbling behind me as I searched for a room not being used to shag in.

“I’m tired,” I groaned. “And there are people fucking in every-hic-single one of these bloody rooms!”

“C-Come on dahling. Yuh-you can sleep in muh-mine,” he took my hand in his.

“No fu-fucking way Huh-Harry,” I said trying and failing to pull my hand away. “You’ve messed with me enough tuh-tonight. Se-Seducing me, muh-making me believe I actually lu-love you.”

“I duh-didn’t do anything, love,” he said opening a door at the end of the hall. “Huh-here you go,” he said gently pulling me in and closing the door behind him. “I-I’ll just tuck you in yeah?”

“Ju-Just don’t try anything,” I said holding my finger up. He pulled back the blankets on the bed and let me climb in. I sat down and immediately fell in a fit of giggles. “Holy shit!”

“Wuh-What?” Harry asked amused.

“You’ve actually got me in bed,” I laughed which set Harry off in his own laughing fit. Sometime during my hysterical drunken laugh, my head fell onto his shoulder. I placed my hand on his other shoulder and just held him against me as I nearly died laughing. It was then I noticed a rather lovely smell coming off of him. “You smell absolutely lovely Harry.”

“Nowhere near as lovely as you do,” he said.

I smiled and continued to breathe him in bringing my face closer to the skin of his neck. Suddenly my drunken self was placing kisses on his neck.

“Wuh? What are you duh-doing?” he muttered.

“I dunno,” I said. “Sorry. I know we shouldn’t I mean… you’re bloody drunk.”

“And you are horny for me,” he smirked.

“I buh-believe the term is love, darling,” I said kissing along his jawline and freezing almost immediately. “Shit di-did I really just say that?”

“Yeah,” he smiled brushing his nose along mine. “You did.”

His mouth was on mine before I could utter another word. I normally would’ve pushed him away but when he kissed me and when he touched me a shiver ran up my spine and made my whole body quiver. And suddenly I was hungry for him.

I kissed him back and ran my hands along his body. “God I’ve wanted you for so long,” he groaned as I did. I smiled and brought my mouth back to his. After a while, my hands lingered to the front of his body where they started to unbutton his shirt. “A-Are you sure you want us to have sex? I mean you’re drunk.”

“And you’re horny for me,” I whispered his words back to him as I slowly undid each button. He smirked and helped me with the last button shrugging off the cursed top. I turned and drew my hair to the side so that he could unzip my dress. He did so and brushed his fingers along my bare spine. He fingers then hooked onto the straps and pulled them down, and as they did he brought his lips to the skin of my neck.

“No bra?” he muttered as he peppered my neck in kisses.

“Built-in,” I giggled. I turned back and laid myself down so he could pull it off. When he did he looked down and smirked.

“No knickers?”

“Kinda had a feeling it would end like this,” I admitted. “I figured if you had to work so hard to get me to fall for you then I might as well make this part easy for you.”

“You naughty little minx,” he said bringing his mouth to mine. “I fucking love you.”

I smiled into the kisses and reached down to undo his trousers. With the button and zipper undid I reached in and wrapped my hand around his length. “JESUS FUCK!” he gasped as I started to pump him. After a while he pulled my hand away. “Keep going and I won’t last much longer.”

He then pulled his trousers off and tossed them aside. He climbed on top of me then and lined himself up with my entrance.

“I love you Harry,” I said.

He smiled. “About time you bloody said it,” he kissed me. “I love you too.”

The words ‘my magic touch’ suddenly took on a different meaning for me since for someone who was plastered beyond help Harry was surprisingly hard. “What are you made of bloody steel or something? Fuck!” I moaned as he moved inside me.

“It’s what you do to me, love,” he said as he thrusted.

Harry always seemed like a lad who would be into wild things in bed; toys, teasing, foreplay, rough sex, and probably revenge fucking but at that moment he was amazingly passionate and sensual. He held onto my body and I held onto his. He kissed me romantically as if he didn’t plan on kissing anyone else after that. He touched me as though I were delicate and breakable. It was brilliant.

Sometime during our lovemaking, I reached down and grabbed him by the arse. “Fuck!” he groaned. “You fucking little minx!”

I laughed leaving my hand on his well-rounded arse cheek. Suddenly my whole body began to tingle and tense up. “FU-FU-FU-FUCK! HARRY I’M GONNA!”

My back arched, my toes curled, and I tightened around his length covering him in my juices. In all my life I’d never had such a powerful, mindblowing orgasm… and probably never will again.

Harry started to grow sloppy then until I felt him start to twitch inside me. He moaned loudly as he filled me with his cum.

Breathless, drunk, and exhausted we collapsed and passed out.

The next morning I woke up feeling shit. I groaned as a throbbing pain pounded in my skull, and another throbbing ache pulsated down in my cunt. I blinked open my eyes and looked around.

I didn’t recognize the room but I sure as fuck recognized the naked man in the bed beside me. “Oh fuck it wasn’t a bloody dream,” I groaned so sure my mind had made the previous night up. I sighed and nudged Harry awake.

He groaned.

“Wake up you twat,” I said.

“No,” he groaned again. “Fuck off.”

“Fine then no morning shag for you,” I said. He immediately shot his head up. Looking at me like a dog who was offered the mother of all treats. “Morning.”

“Hello dear,” he leaned down and pecked my incredibly swollen lips.

“I take it you remember last night,” I said blushing.

“Of course I do,” he whispered draping his arm over me. “We made love. You told me you loved me. And you’re a rotten liar if you deny any of it.”

I laughed. “Lucky for you I think I’m tired of denying things.”

“Good,” he said. “Because I love you and I plan on spending my life with you.”

“I love you too,” I said kissing him softly. “You annoying bastard you.”

He laughed and kissed me back.

“God I hope somebody in this house had the bloody sense to make a strong pot of coffee because⸺.” Before I could fully climb out of bed he pulled me back.

“Hey hey now hold on a second, love,” he said climbing on top of me. “I believe you said something about a morning shag?”

Round two soon began along with the rest of our lives together.

Just me and my Harry.

#Douglas Booth #the riot club

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katecarteir · 5 years

Text

if your love was bad for you.

Pairing: Bill Denbrough/Richie Tozier (Bichie) Prompt: angsty unrequited type of situation with a happy and/or bittersweet ending. My fill for @sinningtozier for the @it2ficexchange Trigger warning for mentions of cheating and recreational drug use.

READ ON AO3.

Richie Tozier is fourteen years old, and he was kissed by Bill Denbrough for the first time. They were sitting down in the Toziers spacious basement. The last couple of weeks, since starting high school, Richie along with Bev, Stan and Bill had started dabbling in smoking weed. Eddie was always quick to turn up his nose at the mere thought and then launch into a rant about the harm of lung cancer. Ben, a little similarly to Eddie, seemed convinced that his mother would be able to take one look at him and now what they’d been doing. He was quick to duck out once somebody brought it out, always quick to cite a separate reason while everybody knew the truth. Mike would laugh off all his friends suggestions of him trying it, smiling to himself as though he had some sort of secret.

This evening, only Richie and Bill were left behind, with everybody else already on their ways home or somewhere else. Darkness had settled over Derry, Maine, and all the Losers knew it was dangerous place to be caught outside once the sun went down. The murders of 1989 might have stopped, and Henry Bowers might be sitting behind the walls Juniper Hill, but his minions still walked free and it just felt... sinister. This town was beyond ruined for the young teens that lived there, and they all often counted down the days until they were able to leave and never look back.

“Do you ever think about leaving this place, Big Bill?” Richie asked, resting his hands on his stomach. His high was rapidly falling, as Richie found was usually true. It was a though his brain couldn’t hold it even when it wanted to, always coming down much faster than any of his friends. Maybe his brain just moved too fast, his father always told him it did.

“Everyday.” Bill responded immediately. His stutter was always non-existent in moments like this, Richie had noticed more than once. While his stutter had gotten less obvious the older they got, but it never really went away completely except when it was just the two of them. That thought always made Richie feel like a little fuzzy inside.

“Where would you go?” Richie asked, still looking up at the ceiling a little pointedly. Bill was maybe closer to him than Richie had originally thought they were laying, he could feel the heat radiating off of him. “When you leave Derry?”

“As far away as possible,” Bill said with a sigh. “England, maybe. All the way across the ocean sounds good.” Richie hadn’t even had the chance to open his mouth before Bill was reaching out and pinching them shut.

"If you even think about doing the British guy right now, you’re not allowed to come visit me ever.”

Richie knocked Bill’s hand away, grinning toothily up at him. “Aye, matey, I would never be a visiting ‘ou. We’ll across the pond together.”

Bill scowled down at Richie’s terrible, slightly pirate-like, accent before his face softened at the words. Before Richie could really react to anything, Bill was leaning down and pressing his lips to Richie’s. It just a quick brush, then Bill was gone. Laying back on the ground with a simple, beep beep trashmouth.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is fifteen years old, and he still fucking hated clowns. They were creepy, alright? There was something about those pale faces matched with all those bright colours that made Richie’s skin crawl. He told Bill Denbrough as much, when he linked his arms through Bill’s and pulled him away.

“Then why don’t you creep yourself, th-t-then?” Bill asked him with a chuckle. Richie let out a loud, mock-offended noise and moved to pulled away but Bill tugged at him. Tucked him back into his side. “Come on, let’s g-g-get hot dogs.”

Richie followed with Bill, tucked a little happily under Bill’s arm. After that stupid stoned kiss the year before, Richie’s crush on Bill Denbrough that he’d been ignoring since- well, probably since kindergarten- had bubbled itself up to the surface and was constantly chewing at his self peace. It didn’t help that Bill had never mentioned it again, making it clear to Richie that it meant nothing to Bill and everything to him.

Richie had chatted Stan’s ear off for a good couple of months after it had happened, which Stan had spent the time insisting that Bill did like Richie, he must have if he kissed him, and even trying to encourage Richie to ask Bill out. That had all fallen apart when Bill had dragged over some girl from his writer’s society, and introduced her as his new girlfriend. Richie had been crushed, but had avoided Stan’s looks of concern and pity, always quick to push aside feelings when they start to see even slightly troublesome.

That had been a few months ago, still, and Richie supposed that Bill and his girlfriend were still together, he’d mention her every couple of days of things they’d done, but Richie rarely saw her. She never sat with them at lunch or hung out with them outside of school. He’d sometimes get a glimpse of Bill walking with her in the hallways, and Bill now sat with her during history instead of Richie, but they weren’t the closest couple from what Richie was ever able to see. Didn’t stop it from stinging a little bit, the confirmation that kissing Richie was nothing to Bill.

Bill paid for Richie’s hot dog and drink, even though Richie had his own money from the part time job at the movie theater, and Richie smiled a little bashfully when Bill handed it to him. “I-I sort of h-h-hated carnivals, too. They’re t-t-too loud.”

“I’m too loud,” Richie answered without thinking, one of those little times when his personal insecurities came shining through his joking composure.

Bill turned to look at him, his brow furrowing. “You a-are loud.” He agreed, and Richie hunched in on himself slightly. “Bu-buh-but not too loud.”

Richie smiled, nudging Bill’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks, Big Bill.” Richie did something he knew he shouldn’t do, something that was wrong and not good. Bill wasn’t Eddie, who would laugh and then flip him off, but Richie still found himself doing it.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Bill’s cheek. He pulled back quickly and offered up a small smile. He started turning away, but Bill cupped Richie’s chin and pulled him back. Kissed him on the lips. Richie let out a gasp as he felt Bill’s lips moving against his own. Richie melted into it, wishing he had a free hand, and pressed himself a little bit closer to Bill’s body.

Bill pulled back first, again, and licked his bottom lip. He cleared his throat, face burning red, and turned around. “Fuh-fuh-finish that huh-hot-hot dog, Tozier. I puh-puh-paid guh-good money for tuh-that.”

Richie stared at the side of Bill’s head in a daze as he took the hot dog towards his still tingling mouth.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is sixteen years old, and Bill Denbrough had him pressed back into the couch cushions. Richie let out a harsh exhale of breath, turning his head to side while Bill’s mouth lacked onto Richie’s neck. Their hips might have rocking together, Richie wasn’t even sure, because it felt like Bill was everywhere.

It had been months of this, hang outs during into Richie and Bill alone at the end of the night, Bill leaning into Richie’s space, laying him down and kissing for hours until Richie thought he’d need Eddie’s inhaler to get a single breath. Knees feeling weak for hours after Bill went home. Heart racing in his chest like an injured bird that was trying to fly but couldn’t get off the ground

It was never anything more than this. Hot lips on lips, or neck, and hands touching under shirts. Bill always locked right up if Richie tried to move any further than that, not able to get any words out beyond his stutter in those moments. Richie knew what they were, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what this was. He knew that when Bill left his house, he’d make a nightly phone call to his girlfriend and tell her that he loved her.

Richie groaned, a noise not of any sort of pleasure, but of the sudden sick feeling settled in his stomach. Bill pulled off his neck, where an obvious mark was now sitting high enough that Richie would have to wear a fucking turtleneck to cover ti up. “Wh-what’s wrong?” Bill asked, wiping the spit off his mouth with the back of his hand.

Richie pushed at Bill’s head, forcing himself into a seated position and tugging at the curls on his head. He couldn’t look at Bill in this moment, suddenly felt that maybe he’d never be able to look at him again. “What are you doing after this?”

Bill’s face seemed to pale as he moved away from Richie’s body, putting that space between them. It felt so much more than it really was, Richie couldn’t remember the last time he’d been sitting on the same couch as Bill without their bodies touching. Bill sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “You know wuh-wuh-where I’m guh-going.”

Yeah, Richie knew. It would be nice if Bill would say it, though. Just once. Richie grabbed his hoodie that he’d stripped off when he’d got overheated while kissing, and tugged it back over his head. “You should probably go, then. Don’t want to be late for her.”

Bill blinked at him, then frowned. “I duh-don’t need to go for at luh-least an hour.”

Richie let out a little half sigh himself and stood up, starting to gather up the empty drink containers and dishes off the little coffee table. “You don’t want to be late. Go there smelling like me.”

“Wuh-we use the suh-suh-same sa-shampoo. She-she wuh-won’t nuh-notice.” Bill struggled to get the words out, and Richie was sure if he looked at Bill his face would be a deep red. But Richie simply stiffened, then threw the garbage a little harsher than necessary into the bin. “Are you okay?”

Richie shook his head. “You should just go, Bill. I can’t keep doing this. Find somebody else to cheat on your girlfriend with.”

Bill made an awkward noise in the back of his throat. An uncomfortable noise. Letting Richie know that his little reminder wasn’t welcome. “Yuh-you knew wuh-what this was. You nuh-never tuh-told me that-”

“I’m telling you now!” Richie cut him off with a sharp yell, dropping the trash bin to the ground and turning around to look at Bill. His friend- his whatever they were- was still sitting on the couch, hands hanging between his legs. His hair was a mussed mess and his eyes were sad, and he looked beautiful. “I’m telling you now. I can’t fucking do this anymore.”

Bill swallowed harshly, his shoulders tensing. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Richie nodded, once and moved outside to bring the garbage into the bigger can in the garage. When he came back into basement, Bill and all his things were gone.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is seventeen years old, and he’d just gotten a promotion. It was just a position of longer hours at the theater, but he lived for it. The idea that he was good at something, could do something. Ever since Bill had kissed him the year before, and continued on dating his girlfriend, Richie had let himself slip away from the Losers. He loved his friends, he loved Bill, but he wasn’t going to let himself be the Other Person. Not even for Bill Denbrough.

“You look like shit, Tozier.” Stanley Uris’ voice carried over to him, and Richie sighed. He supposed the most awkward times for him was whenever his friends- old friends? No, just friends. Still his friends- came in to see a movie.

Richie forced a smile at his best friend, running his fingers through his messy hair. He winced at the dryness that he found, wondering for a short second how long it had been since he’d showered. “Ah, you know me, Stan the Man. Always looking like a mess.”

Stan clucked his tongue, looking skeptically at Richie for a long moment before shaking his head. “Everybody else is going to be here soon. I came ahead of them to warn you, in case you wanted to go hide in the back.”

It was a passive aggressive comment, not a genuine offer of escape and they both knew it. Stan and Eddie, in particular, had been supportive of Richie’s original departure from the group, believing that Richie needed some space and would soon be back. The longer that Richie was separate, the less they seemed to tolerate his absence. “I work here,” Richie replied to Stan a little stiffly. enjoying how Stan’s eyebrows raised up. “I’m not going to run and hide. If Bill doesn’t want to see me, he can find something else to do on Saturday nights besides see movies.”

“Bill doesn’t not want to see you, Rich.” Stan said quietly, his face opening up and looking a little softer.

“No, that’s the problem, I guess.” Richie said, knowing his voice was too sharp and that he had walls up around himself that Stan could see through without squinting. “The problem is that he does, and I can’t keep getting dicked around like that. It’ll kill me.”

A sad look settled itself on Stan’s face but he was suddenly interrupted by a small shout of “Trashmouth!” before Richie found himself with an arm full of Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie let out a surprised little laugh before a mess of red hair that could only be Beverly Marsh was attaching herself to him as well.

Richie greeted all of his friends, finding himself feel little in a way that he hadn’t in a while. Too long. His eyes fell onto Bill and he wondered if everybody could see the walls around him as they went up. “Huh-hey, Rich.” Bill said, his cheeks turning red.

Richie blinked at him, thinking for a moment about how much his friends knew about what happened. Stan and Bev, they knew everything, as Richie had told them. Called them after Bill had left that night, and they’d both sneaked over to sit with him while cried through most of the night. Stan Uris and Beverly Marsh, the only two people Richie would let see him at his absolute lowest. Had Bill told the others? Or were they completely in the dark to why everything had changed?

Something in his gut told him that Bill would never have told anybody about them, and his resolve to stay far the fuck away from Bill Denbrough hardened inside him. He put on a formal face, one that if the stunned expression Eddie gave him meant anything, was extremely convincing. “Our self service devices are out of order tonight, so you’ll have to buy your tickets up at the concession stand. Enjoy the movies, guys.”

Richie nodded with as much friendliness as he could muster, and turned to go find something to do when a hand grabbed his wrist. “Wuh-wuh-wait.” Bill said, squeezing Richie’s wrist. “Can I tuh-talk to you?”

Richie swallowed a little roughly, and gave a short nod to hesitating Beverly. As she finally walked slowly away, Richie looked at Bill and turned his customer service persona up to eleven. “How can I help you?”

Bill huffed out a breath, his eyes squeezing shut. “Richie, can you nuh-not be luh-like this? El-luh-lizabeth and I bruh-broke up.”

And well.. Richie had heard that. In a school as small as Derry High, it would have been impossible for him to have not to. It was all anybody talked about for three days, until David Miller sent Shauna Finchel’s nudes around and Billy and Elizabeth’s sudden break up was pushed aside. Part of Richie had wondered if Bill was going to come talk to him, but he refused to play with the idea that he was that important.

But now Bill stood in front of him, shuffling and looking oh-so guilty. Richie shook his head. “I’m not sure what you expect me to do with that information, Billy Boy. Are you offering her up to me, I help ease her through this tough time if you know what I mean.” Richie thrust his hips sexually and Bill just stared at him blankly.

“Richie, can you juh-juh-just...” Bill swore under his breath. “You can cuh-come back to the gruh-group, is what I muh-meant.”

Richie cracked his knuckles and tongued at his teeth. “Do you? All miss me.”

Bill clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow. “Yes.”

Richie bit his bottom lip and nodded.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is eighteen years old, and he was standing on the old Derry bridge after graduating high school. He had Eddie Kaspbrak tucked under one arm, and was sharing a hilarious conversation about nothing with Ben Hanscom. There were after parties going on all over town, but the Losers were in no rush to get to to any of them. Everybody they really wanted to see was standing right here.

Richie glanced over his shoulder at where Bill was laughing loudly with Mike, palming a beer that Richie suspected that he wasn’t really drinking, and sighed a little louder than he’d intended. He felt Eddie shift underneath him and he looked down at Eddie’s little face, the other boy- or man? Were they men now? Richie didn’t feel like a man- looked oddly tiny with Richie’s bomber jacket on.

“Go talk to him,” Eddie said simply, offering Richie a smile. “You two are being idiots. Fix whatever’s broken here. I’m begging you, this weird pretending you don’t care about each other shit is getting old.”

Richie looked at Ben, half hoping his friend would be on his side, but Ben had already started nodding before Richie finished his turn. Sighing, Richie dropped his arm away from Eddie and shuffled over to Bill with his hands in his suit pants.

When Mike and Bill noticed Richie approaching, Mike patted Bill on the shoulder and he smiled at Richie as he moved to talk to Beverly and Stan. Richie gave Bill a small smile, opened his mouth and-

“Are yuh-you and Eddie duh-dating?”

Richie blinked and gaped at Bill, completely taken back by the question. He turned back to Eddie, who was sitting up on the railing of the bridge and cackling, and Richie spluttered out a laugh. “What? Eddie? No, fuck no. Eddie’s my little buddy.”

Bill flushed. “He’s wuh-wearing your juh-jacket.”

“He was cold!” Richie laughed, brushing his overgrown curls away from his face. “He weighs like fifty pounds, dude, and he was wearing a vest suit! Are Eddie and I dating... Jesus Christ, Denbrough. And I thought I had marbles for brains.”

“Yuh-you do have muh-marbles for brains,” Bill muttered, but while the attempt was there that attitude was not. Bill was still staring down at his feet with red cheeks. “I just thu-thought it would make suh-sense if you and Euh-Eddie were...”

Richie let out a harsh cackle, hunching over and wrapping his arms around his stomach. “Oh my God, stop. Stop. I’m going to fucking piss myself. Oh my God.”

“Stop laughing at me, dick weed!” Bill pushed at Richie, knocking him against the railing. It wasn’t a violent movement, both boys going up against it giggling.

Richie suddenly realized how close they were, faces almost touching. Richie gave him a grin. “Why so concerned about me and Eds? Ya jealous, Big Bill?” And it was a joke. Oh, was it a joke. Richie’s entire life was a joke, really.

“Muh-maybe.” Bill admitted anyway and Richie blinked at him. The two of them stared at one other, breath caught in their throats, until Bill grinned at him. “I duh-don’t want Euh-Eddie to get uh-over his cruh-crush on you for the luh-likes of you. It’ll be a bluh-blow to my ego.”

Richie laughed so hard he snorted.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier is eighteen years old, and he’s running through an airport waiting room. He, himself, will be leaving Derry forever in just three days. Well, not forever in truth. His parents still lived here, and he knew that for the next fours years he’d be coming home every summer and every holiday but... in three days, Derry would no longer be Richie’s home.

Bill Denbrough was leaving Derry that day. Within an hour or so, really. And not just Derry, no. Bill was going big, getting onto that plane and leaving Maine, leaving America. Richie had put off saying goodbye, not even going to Bill’s goodbye party

“Aye, matey, I would never be a visiting ‘ou. We’ll across the pond together.”

“BILLY!” Richie screamed as he caught sight of his friend moving up in the line of people waiting to board the flight to England. Bill turned and it was almost like it was happening in slow motion. His eyes went wide and he stepped out of the line, walking towards Richie as though in a daze as Richie ran at him.

“Rich...”

Richie nearly collided with him, but managed to skid to a stop just in front of him. He quickly stumbled forward, cupping the back of Bill’s neck and knocking their foreheads together. At some point during the last two years of alienation between them, Richie Tozier had grown taller than Big Bill Denbrough.

He could hear Bill’s take in a big breath and Richie felt like his whole body was shaking. “I’m gunna miss ya.”

“Fuck,” Bill whispered under his breath, hands gripping Richie’s hips. “I love you, Richie. I luh-luh-love you.”

“Now boarding flight 1-27 to London! Now boarding flight 1-27!”

Richie let Bill go, offered him a watery smile, and walked away without another word exchanged.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier was twenty years old, and for the first time he wasn’t going back to Derry for the summer break. He’d considered it, even though he had his own studio apartment out in Cali, but he loved his job that he wasn’t sure would hold a spot for him if he took off for three months. When Stan had told him he was only going back to two weeks in the end of July, Richie had decided to stay out in California.

As April came to an end, and Richie didn’t pack up his things and make the 2 day drive, was the first time Richie realized that Derry didn’t feel like home anymore. Outside of Stan and occasionally Mike, Richie barely even heard from the other Losers anymore. Eddie called him every couple months to catch up, always very long phone calls that they both complained about the prize but continued to do. Bev made trips out to California once a year, but otherwise they were strictly tag each other in memes friends these days. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to Ben Hanscom. Probably Thanksgiving the year before. And Bill...

Richie hadn’t heard from Bill since he’d left him in the Bangor Airport, and I love you too unsaid between them.

“Rich...?” Richie turned around as Jane, his girlfriend of nearly seven months, padded into the living room wearing nothing but his oversized AFRICA by TOTO t-shirt. “Are you coming back to bed?”

Richie smiled and nodded, following her into his future.

★ ★ ★

Richie Tozier was twenty-three years old, and he was opening his apartment door at the 3 in the morning to frantic knocking. Bill Denbrough stood on the other side of it, soaking wet and panting as though he’d run the entire way from England. Richie blinked at him for several moments before stumbling backwards and letting him into the apartment.

“Your fiancee left you.” Bill heaved out, staring at Richie with those big wide eyes. Five years since Richie had seen him, and somehow Bill Denbrough managed to make Richie’s heart stop in his chest.

“Uh yeah,” Richie said, head spinning from these sudden events that were taken place while his brain was still half asleep. “Yeah, like... Like, a year ago, dude...”

Bill seemed to flush, but the apartment was dark and Richie wasn’t wearing his fucking glasses so it wasn’t like he could really tell. “I just heard.” Bill said simply, raising a hand like he meant to touch Richie but stopped at the last moment,

“Takes a long time for information to travel across that big ol’ ocean, huh.” Richie said, half hoping he didn’t sound as bitter as he felt. But part of him hoped Bill could exactly what Richie was feeling.

“Go out with me.” Bill blurted out, suddenly sounding not unlike a young Richie Tozier, who’d yet to even try to filter his thoughts. Richie blinked at him and said nothing. “I know I... fucked everything... up between us...” Bill was speaking so slowly, Richie knew it was a tactic to help his stutter, but he sort of wished he’d just stutter through the words and get to the goddamn point already. “But I have... always loved you... and I would like to... try being together... please.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Richie asked snarkly and Bill frowned.

“Yes. The ball... is in your court... now... Tozier.” Bill said with a nod, moving back towards the door and walking out it. Richie watched him turn into a small blub and panic struck into his chest as realized fuck Bill was going to walk away.

Richie rushed out of the apartment, half blind and half dressed, leaving the door wide open. “Billy, wait!”

Bill turned around, beaming.

#bichie #bichie fic #bill denbrough #richie tozier #it fanfiction #it fic exchange #my writing

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luckyredeyes · 6 years

Note

Does mun do art classes? Or like, how did you get so skilled? Like your art looks amazing

[[HUH BUH WUH GUH I JUST HUUUUH???

[[Thank you!!! That’s really sweet! I never did really take that kind of art class; I was an art major for one year, almost flunked Design, and switched to English because I wanted to write instead. Although I still have a lot to learn, what I know now I’ve picked up from just trying to emulate what I see in my favorite illustrations and animation, which I guess is why my stuff keeps coming out so Disney-ish. I like that style, though. There’s so much focus on the eyes and you can get so expressive. A lot of times I’ll find concept art and model sheets for characters I like and try to reinterpret the expressions I’m seeing. I still need to learn a lot about anatomy and perspective. But I’m glad you like it! Thanks again!]

#ooc #my art

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skeletonscribbles · 7 years

Text

I Burn, I Pine, I Perish (Chapter 1)

10 Things I Hate About You, but Reddie? It’s more likely than you think.

Title: I Burn, I Pine, I Perish Pairings: Reddie, Benverly, Mike/Bill/Stan Rating: we’ll call it a cool T for now Chapter: "I Want You To Want Me” (Ben) Summary: Padua High School, 1999 “But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you; Not even close; Not even a little bit; Not even at all.” or: when no respectable gays will date Eddie “Shrew” Kaspbrak, other, less respectable gays are forced to come out of the woodwork.

Read on Ao3!

Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Finale

Ben Hanscom, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, was completely, totally, and utterly lost.

It was his first day at Padua High School, the public institution that the children of several of Maine’s small towns (including Ben’s new home, Derry) attended because said towns couldn’t afford to maintain their own high schools. It was also November, which meant that Ben was particularly conspicuous in that everyone else knew exactly where they were going, and he couldn’t even get it together well enough to find the guidance office.

He should be better at this by now. He was no stranger to transferring schools. His mother had been jumping from job to job since before he could remember, chasing higher paychecks and a better life, and that had meant that Ben’s adolescence was sort of a patchwork quilt of new schools and missed experiences. He’d never been in one place for long enough to really have friends, but that was okay. He knew that he’d get there eventually. For now, he was content with his mother, his cat, and his books.

No book in the world, though, could have prepared him for the enormity of Padua High School. This was the biggest school he’d ever attended, and so he reasoned that it was probably not the most embarrassing thing for him to be too turned around to find his counselor.

Still, he had a little time before the bell was set to ring. He could try.

“Um, excuse me,” he said timidly in the direction of a group of students, “I was wondering, um, if you could help…”

One of the students turned around, and Ben immediately realized that he’d made a mistake in choosing this clique to talk to. The boy he was looking at had rodent-like features, greasy, dark hair with frosted tips, and mean eyes. He sneered back at Ben, gaze dropping to the library copy of Harry Potter Ben had clutched to his chest.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, nerd?” The boy snatched Ben’s book out of his hand. “Wizards? That’s the gayest shit I’ve ever seen, and I have Eddie fucking Kaspbrak in my study hall.”

“You should set him up with this moonface,” another, taller boy jeered. “They could have wand practice together.”

“Shut up, Patrick. No one wants to hear about your fag fantasies.” A third boy shoved the second boy into the lockers. “And Henry, make this quick. We don’t want to be caught talking to trash for any longer than we have to.”

“Can I have my book back?” Ben tried, knowing full well that asking wouldn’t work.

Henry (of the rodent face and frosted tips) dangled the book in front of Ben’s face. “Oh, yeah, I’m just gonna let you leave with this dumb book. NOT.” He pulled the book back before Ben could grab it. “Do my homework for the rest of the year and you can have it.”

Oh, hell no. Ben wasn’t going to get himself stuck with a chump punishment on the first day.

“Give me my book,” he insisted, holding out his hand.

“Are you deaf?” Henry said, speaking slowly and loudly.

“I heard what you said. No deal. I want my book.” Ben punctuated his demand by ripping the book out of Henry’s hands. Henry stumbled backwards.

The expression on the boys’ faces had turned murderous, and it occurred to Ben that he might have made a huge mistake.

“You’re dead, nerd trash,” Henry roared, reaching for something in his pocket.

“After school, you idiot.” The third boy, who seemed to be the group’s ringleader, threw a hand out in front of Henry. “You can’t get caught with a knife again or you’ll get expelled. Idiot.”

The bell rang, and Ben began to back away.

“You’re dead,” Henry repeated, before following his group down the hall. “Dead.”

Well, Ben thought, I’ve made worse first impressions.

“Hey, Harry Potter kid!” A voice called out from down the hallway. Ben turned around, half-expecting it to be Henry again with a fresh round of threats.

It wasn’t, thank God. It was a dark-skinned kid in an X-Files t-shirt. Ben eyed him suspiciously.

“Me?” Ben asked carefully.

“Yeah.” The guy caught up with Ben and clapped him on the shoulder. Two other kids were now approaching from the end of the hallway. Ben feared the worst.

“What do you want?” Ben gripped his book tightly. “You can’t have this, it’s from the library.”

“Want?” The dark skinned kid laughed. “No, buddy, we just wanted to tell you that what you just did was freaking awesome.”

“Oh” Ben blinked. “It was?”

“Yes.” One of the other two boys stepped forward. He was dressed in a style that could really only be described as business-casual, and Ben thought he looked kind of funny next to the kid in the X-Files t-shirt, in an Odd Couple sort of way. “You just stood up to Padua’s biggest and meanest pack of idiot bullies.”

“They’ve been after us for yuh-years,” the third boy chimed in. Ben hadn’t noticed him, really, until he spoke, but once his attention had been called to the boy, Ben didn’t feel like he could focus anywhere else. There was something incredibly compelling about this quiet redhead, somehow. “Huh-how’d you do it?”

Ben shrugged. “I don’t really know. It’s my first day - I guess I just didn’t want them to mess that up.”

The other three exchanged delighted looks.

“First day,” beamed the dark-skinned boy, “that means you’re our tour for first period! Awesome. “Mike Hanlon, at your service.” He stuck out his hand for Ben to shake. Ben took it gratefully.

“Ben Hanscom.”

“Buh-Ben,” the redheaded kid smiled. “Nice. I’m Buh-Bill Denbrough.”

“And I’m Stanley Uris,” finished the business-casual boy, “but you can call me Stan. Pleasure to meet you, Ben Hanscom.”

“We’ll take you up to guidance, if that’s cool,” Mike offered. “It’s kind of impossible to find, otherwise. Mr. Keene keeps himself tucked away at the back of the school so that kids don’t bother him.”

“He’s wuh-writing a p-p-porn novel,” Bill volunteered helpfully. (Ben did not find this information helpful, but he appreciated the thought.)

“Thanks?” Ben said tentatively, looking between the three boys. “I appreciate…I mean, schools usually send me off with some weirdo from AV club, so.”

Mike covered his mouth to stifle a laugh, and Stan shoved his hands into his pockets, embarrassed.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with AV club!” Ben corrected hastily. “But…y’know what I’m saying. Right?”

“We know, yes,” Stan muttered, still a little red around the ears. “It’s one thing to be a geek, and another to talk incessantly about it.”

Ben nodded, relieved that they’d followed his train of thought. Mike was still laughing.

“Oh, man!” Mike wiped his eyes. “This guy’s got your number and he doesn’t even know you, Stan, holy cow…”

“We can’t all be on the football team, Michael,” Stan snapped.

“Let’s guh-go see Keene,” Bill insisted. “We’re l-late.”

Ben followed his new acquaintances up two flights of stairs and down a narrow hallway to the guidance office. He felt strangely comfortable in conversation with them, especially when Mike, a fellow Harry Potter fan, switched the subject to Hogwarts Houses.

He wondered if this was what people with friends felt like every day. If so, he couldn’t wait to have friends.

The 12th grade guidance counselor, Mr. Keene, was waiting for them when they reached his office. He was pretty average in appearance, as stocky, thin-haired middle aged men went, but there was something about his countenance that Ben felt deeply unsettled by. He couldn’t put a finger on exactly what that was, though.

“Hanscom?” Keene asked, pushing his glasses up his nose to read the schedule in his hand.

Ben nodded, surreptitiously wiping his sweaty hands on the bottom of his plain red t-shirt.

“This is yours.” He handed Ben the schedule. “I see you’ve already met the three stooges; they’ll tell you where to go.”

Mike and Bill grinned from where they stood in the doorway. Stan scowled, adjusting the collar of his button-down shirt.

“That’s basically all I’ve got for you,” Mr. Keene continued. “Looks like you’ve been to a lot of schools, so you know the drill. Same little asswipe shit-for-brains everywhere.”

Ben swallowed. “Uh.”

“Now, if you boys would be so kind,” Mr. Keene dismissed them with a wave of his hand, “I have a novel to write.”

“We’ll leave you to it,” promised Stan, dragging Ben out by the arm.

Once they were out in the hallway, Mike and Bill collapsed into giggles.

“Cluh-classic Keene,” Bill sighed, putting his hand over his heart.

“You know, when you guys said ‘porn novel’ before, I was a little lost, but I get it now, definitely.” said Ben, looking over his schedule.

“Dude, let me see.” Mike held out a hand, and Ben passed over the piece of paper. “You’ve got English first. Stan, you’re in there, right? With Mr. King?”

“Yes.” Stan looked less than enthused. “With Mr. King, and Tom Rogan, and Patrick Hocksetter, and–”

“Tuh-touchy little Eddie Kuh-Kaspbrak, and fuh-fuh-fucking Richie Tozier.” Bill rolled his eyes. “We know, Stan. You only compluh-ain about it every d-day.”

“No Bowers though,” Mike asked quickly, “right?”

“No.” Stan huffed. “He’s in remedial English. Good thing, too.” He turned to Ben, fixing him with a serious look. “Rogan’s probably too self-absorbed to remember what you did this morning, and Hocksetter’s mind is an incomprehensible void, but Bowers will never forget, and will probably kill you as soon as he gets you alone.”

Oh. They were talking about the bullies from before. “Sounds like a really good time.”

“Anyway, you’ve got Spanish second period. I don’t think any of us are in that one,” Mike continued.

“Fuh-French,” Bill said, gesturing between himself and Stan.

“And I take Latin,” Mike said, “so Stan’ll walk you there, and then you’ll be on your own for a bit.”

“It’ll be luh-lunch after that, so juh-just follow the crowd,” Bill added.

“Are you ready to go?” Stan was looking at Ben again, and Ben couldn’t help but straighten up under his gaze.

“Sure.” Ben turned to Mike and Bill. “I’ll see you guys at lunch?”

“You know it.” Mike smiled, giving Ben a thumbs up. Bill nodded along.

“Great, wonderful, awesome, okay, let’s go.” Stan said exasperatedly. “I want to get this over with.”

Mike and Bill departed for their own classes, and Ben was left to follow Stan, who walked inhumanly fast.

“The library’s over here.” Stan gestured towards a large set of double-doors as he passed them. “AV meets there, and so do the Future MBAs…although I am not on speaking terms with them at the moment.”

“What happened?” asked Ben.

Stan scrunched up his face, obviously still upset. “They found out I owned Backstreet Boys apparel.”

Ben thought of all the New Kids on the Block stuff he had at home, and felt a sense of solidarity with Stan. “That’s it?”

“They’re a vindictive bunch,” Stan muttered. “I didn’t even buy the damn visor for myself. Mike got it for me as a joke. A joke,” he repeated, checking in with Ben to make sure he got the point.

Ben decided against bringing New Kids on the Block into the conversation.

“I’m sorry,” he said instead, “they sound like they suck.”

Stan pressed his lips together into a thin line. “They do suck. And they’ll pay for exiling me, certainly. I have plans.”

They walked quietly together for a moment. Ben wondered, idly, if Stan had ever killed a man.

“This is the cafeteria.” Stan finally broke the silence, and Ben let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

He didn’t hear anything else Stan said about the cafeteria, though, because at that moment, the most beautiful girl in the entire world walked by.

Ben had never really paid much attention to girls at his other high schools, partially because he knew that he wasn’t going to be around for very long, and partially because he’d never met a girl that was more interesting to him than a book. He knew intuitively that this girl was going to be the exception. She had ferocious red hair, freckles that wound in constellation patterns across her face and down her back, and the kind of green eyes that Ben imagined J.K. Rowling was thinking about when she described Harry Potter.

He couldn’t decide whether or not he wanted her to look at him. On the one hand, she was the most incredible person he’d ever laid eyes on in his life. On…well, on the same hand, he was absolutely terrified of her.

He’d stopped walking somewhere along the line, too caught up in the girl to notice that he was standing still in the middle of the hallway like an idiot. Stan noticed, though, and was not amused. He smacked Ben in the arm, effectively ending his reverie.

“No. No way.” Stan shook his head. “Terrible idea.”

“Who is she?” Ben asked faintly.

“Beverly Marsh,” Stan replied. “Sophomore. She’s a goddess among mortals, obviously, and like a goddess, she has very little interest in us lowly normal kids. You’re better off forgetting her.”

“How am I supposed to forget about her?” Ben wrung his hands. “Her hair…”

“Look, buddy.” Stan stared flatly at him. “Even if you figured out how to make her pay attention to you, you couldn’t take her out. It’s popular knowledge that she doesn’t date.”

“Why not?”

“Eddie Kaspbrak.”

“Who?”

“We’re here,” Stan said, pulling open a door at the end of the hallway and ushering Ben in to meet Mr. King.

Mr. King was a grey-haired, no-nonsense sort of fellow with a very stern face. He stopped speaking when Stan and Ben walked in, and looked over at them disinterestedly.

“New student, I presume,” he said in a bored drawl. “Mr. Uris, kindly do the honors.”

“This is Ben Hanscom,” Stan said, gesturing to Ben. A chorus of ‘hi, Ben’ rang through the room. “Be nice to him. Thanks.”

“Take the desks at the far side of the classroom, you two,” said Mr. King, “and let’s get back to Hemingway, shall we?”

Ben took his specified seat and looked around. A gangly, gawky kid near Stan was throwing paper clips in Stan’s direction.

“Stanthony!” The kid whispered, comically loud. “Stan! The! Man! Introduce me to the new kid!”

“No,” said Stan in a heavy monotone.

Unfortunately for Stan, this didn’t deter the kid; rather, it prompted him to instead lick his hand and reach out towards Stan’s desk. Stan recoiled immediately.

“Disgusting,” he hissed. The gawky boy giggled. “Ben, this is Richie Tozier. Don’t waste your time with him.”

“What’d I do to deserve that intro?” Richie squawked indignantly. Stan buried his face in his hands.

“Mr. Tozier,” called Mr. King.

“The office, yup.” Richie winked as he slid out of his seat. “Catch ya later, Ben Handsome.”

“Thanks?” Ben replied, unsure of whether or not he was supposed to feel flattered.

“Let’s proceed without distraction, please.” Mr. King sounded annoyed. “I’d like to hear thoughts on the relationship between Frederic and Katherine. Mr. Rogan, did we read the book this time?”

The ringleader of the group of bullies from earlier looked up with a lazy smile. Ben quietly moved to slide his Harry Potter book into his bag.

“I was proud of my boy Freddy for gettin’ some–” Tom began, but was almost immediately cut off.

“Alas, we did not, in fact, read the book this time.” Mr. King massaged his temples. “Someone else, then.”

“Well, it’s obvious that Hemingway hates women.” A small, sweet looking boy near the front of the classroom crossed his arms. Ben noticed with some interest that the boy was wearing a fanny pack.

“We don’t have to do this today, Mr. Kaspbrak.” Mr. King looked, for all intents and purposes, like a man ready to quit his job immediately, but that was the furthest thing from Ben’s mind in that moment.

Hadn’t Stan said the name Kaspbrak before…?

“I think we do, though,” continued Fanny Pack Kaspbrak. “Katherine’s whole mission is to get pregnant? Really? And then when she can’t deliver the baby, she just…dies? Like, okay, Ernest, is that really all that you think that women are good for -”

“That is all that women are good for, though,” said Tom Rogan suddenly, sitting up and staring at Fanny Pack. “You’d know that, too, if you weren’t the world’s faggiest little bitch.”

“Office. Both of you. Now.” Mr. King crossed to the door and pushed it open for them.

“What did I do?” Fanny Pack spluttered.

“Just go, Kaspbrak.” Mr. King sighed. Ben turned to look at Stan, who shrugged.

“That’s Eddie for you.”

Eddie.

Eddie Kaspbrak.

The reason Beverly Marsh didn’t date.

Ben put his head down on the desk, and hoped to God he wouldn’t have to buy a fanny pack to impress this girl.

—-

When lunch rolled around, Ben felt a little sick with nerves. Given the size of the school, it was unlikely that he’d run into either Henry Bowers or Beverly Marsh in the cafeteria, but he was equally nervous about both prospects.

Fortunately, Mike found him first.

“Ben!” Mike pushed through the throng of students. “Como se dice, dude, how was Spanish?”

“Good enough for me to confidently be able to say that you’re terrible at Spanish,” said Ben, a little numb from being jostled by the stream of students jockeying towards the cafeteria.

“Yeah, that’s true.” Mike shrugged amiably. “Any familiar faces?”

“Not really. No you, no Stan, no Bill…I guess the teacher did call for that Richie kid, but he didn’t show. I think he was still in the office.”

“He skips sometimes, too.” Mike looked back at Ben. “You buy your lunch?”

“Bring,” said Ben. “My mom likes to make it. Makes her feel useful.”

“That’s pretty cool of her - and a good thing, too. Padua food is crap.” Mike brought Ben around a large group of people and through the cafeteria doors Stan had pointed out earlier. “We all bring our lunches, too. I assume you’re hanging out?”

Ben suddenly felt warm. “With you, Bill, and Stan? That’s okay?”

“You bet, buddy.” Smiling, Mike led him to a table near the back of the room. “Here he is, boys!”

“You muh-made it!” Bill cheered. “How’s it been?”

Ben sat down, pulling his bag lunch out of his backpack, and thought back over the last two periods.

“Well, English was…interesting.”

“I told you that class was terrible.” Stan rolled his eyes.

“And then in Spanish, we…” but there was no way Ben was finishing that sentence, because he’d just seen Beverly Marsh across the room, carrying a tray of food and looking like a literal angel.

“Earth to Ben, come in, Ben,” called Mike. “Who’re you looking at?”

“Oh, right, he’s fallen in love with Beverly Marsh.” Stan shrugged and took a small bite of his sandwich.

Mike and Bill exchanged an astonished look.

“All right, all right!” Mike clapped him on the back, nodding appreciatively. “Dream big, buddy.”

“She’s really nuh-nice,” offered Bill, smiling kindly. “We were uh-in the school pluh-uh-ay together once.”

“Oh yeah! You kissed her! Nicely managed, my man.” Mike and Bill high-fived messily over the table.

“We’re just going to ignore her whole Eddie pact, then?” asked Stan, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, shit, I forgot.” Mike’s smile disappeared. “Man, she’s gonna be single for life.”

“Eddie pact?” Ben asked, trying not to sound desperate.

“It’s not huh-huge, really.” Bill shrugged, sipping a Capri Sun. “Eddie went through some kind of bad buh-buh-breakup a year or suh-so ago, and swore off d-dating. Buh-Bev’s his best f-f-friend, so she swore off d-dating too.”

“Until he dates.” Mike corrected. “Beverly will start dating again when Eddie starts dating again.”

“So all we have to do is set up Eddie Kaspbrak?” Ben grinned. “I think I can manage that.”

“Okay, no. Two things.” Stan folded his arms. “One, she still doesn’t know you exist. Two, you’re not going to find a date for Eddie.”

“Why not? I bet some of the girls think he’s cute,” said Ben, looking at Beverly again.

“Yeah, bud…he doesn’t swing for that team,” said Mike, scratching his head sheepishly, “so that limits your pool a lil’ bit. And then there’s the fact that he’s not known for being, you know, super nice.”

“The nicest name he gets called is Shrew,” Stan said bluntly. “No respectable gay is going to date the Shrew.”

Beverly had sat down at a table near the front of the room. The table’s only other occupant was Eddie Kaspbrak. They were conversing about something.

“What subjects does Beverly take?” Ben changed the subject.

“She’s in Fuh-French class,” offered Bill. “She’s not very guh-good.”

Ben’s face lit up. “That’s perfect!”

Bill, Stan, and Mike all squinted back at him, confused.

“So in order to be the girl of Ben Hanscom’s dreams,” Stan clarified, “you have to have red hair, bad taste in friends, and speak French poorly.”

“No, no.” Ben waved his hands in front of him. “No. I’ll tutor her in French. That can be my in.”

“I don’t think that’s as good of a plan as you think it is,” Mike warned, opening his water bottle.

“Why not?” Ben asked, indignant.

“You don’t take French.”

“I can learn.” Ben balled up his paper bag and tossed it towards the trashcan. Instead of going in, it hit one of the kids passing by. The kid turned around, fists clenched - and of course it was Henry Bowers, of all the hundreds of kids at Padua High, of fucking course.

“Run,” advised Bill, and they all grabbed their stuff and high-tailed it across the cafeteria, with a howling Henry in tow.

They finally lost him over by the football stadium bleachers.

“Why did we take you on again? You clearly have a death wish,” wheezed Stan, leaning up against one of the metal supports.

“Did someone say death wish?” A head of curly hair popped up from where it had been resting on the grass. Ben recognized Richie Tozier’s freckled face and stupid glasses, and stifled a laugh - so Richie had been skipping, after all. “Stan the Man!”

“Can I not have one moment of peace?” Stan groaned, banging his head against the support. “Can I not just be left alone?”

“The universe huh-hates you, Stan,” Bill agreed solemnly.

“It hates all of us today. Especially you, Hanscom, and your impossible French tutoring scheme.” Mike plopped down on the grass by Richie, and everyone else followed suit.

“French tutoring?” Richie asked, “like…french kissing, tutoring?”

“There’s not an ounce of romance in your entire body, is there?” Stan asked, folding his arms over his eyes.

“I don’t know about ounces,” Richie grinned, “but I have a couple of good inches, and I’ve been saving them for your mom.”

“I thought you were gay, Tozier,” Mike remarked, throwing a handful of grass in Richie’s direction.

“I mean, a little. Like Freddie Mercury.” Richie kept smiling, nonplussed. “I like both.”

A lightbulb went off in Ben’s head. He scooted over to Stan and started whispering.

“Remember earlier, when you said no respectable gay would date the Shrew?”

“Yes.” Stan rolled his eyes. “I stand by it.”

“What about gays that might be…less respectable?”

It took Stan a minute, but the lightbulb eventually went off for him, too. He looked at Ben, and then at Richie, and then down at his own hands, clearly thinking it over.

When Stan looked back up, Ben expected him to shoot the idea down immediately…but instead, he smiled, huge and terrible.

“Suddenly, I’m invested in your stupid crush, Ben Hanscom. That would be fucking hilarious. Let’s make it happen.”

#reddie #benverly #stanlon #stenbrough #is there a ship name for bill stan and mike #or even really bill and mike #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #stanley uris #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #reddie fic #it 2017 #stephen king it #10 things i hate about you #i cant stop writing AUs im a Fool #sk writes reddie

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felinehypocritical · 7 years

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hi hope ur having a good day! can you pls write some stenbrough hc's or a fic about when bill first gives stan his baseball jersey to wear and stan is all flustered and excited???

“You cuh-c-can huh-have it if yuh-y-hou want.” Bill’s voice is quiet in the small space of his room, and Stan looks up from where he’s tracing the embroidery on his jersey. They’re in Bill’s small bedroom after the fifth game of his third season of baseball, supposedly doing homework, but really just sitting and talking, and Stan’s hand follows the sewn pattern of the patch that says 06 on it before he glances up and catches Bill’s eyes with his own.

“Gee, really, Bill? Can I?” Stan’s voice is tempered with eagerness and excitement, and he unconsciously balls a fist into the material.

Bill nods, his messy, slightly sweaty hair pieces falling out of place and across his face. Stan reaches up and absently fixes them, smoothing a hand over his boyfriend’s red waves and letting his hand fall to cup Bill’s freckled cheek, before dropping it all together. Bill practically nuzzled into the touch at how rare and nice it was. “Yuh-yeah, I m-m-mean, untuh-hil the next guh-g-game,” he replies after a moment, before he moves away from Stan, who flops against the bed when Bill leaves his post as a support pillar, and starts unbuttoning his shirt to reveal his white long sleeved undertop, before tossing the shirt on top of Stan. The smaller boy scrambles up, taking the dirty shirt off of his head and inspecting it.

“Oh, GROSS,” Stan complains. “You put your dirty shirt on my head, that’s weird, Bill.”

Bill smiles at him in return, taking the shirt back delicately and starting to fold it. “Guh-huess you don’t w-wuh-want it th-then, do you?”

“No!” Stan reaches for the shirt, but Bill only holds it higher. “Give it!” Bill just laughs, backing up a bit, and soon enough Stan’s going en pointe just to reach the shirt.

He‘s still much too short, obviously, and Bill lowers the shirt to give back to his boyfriend before dropping it onto Stan’s fingertips and stepping backwards. “Thuh-th-there.” he grins at Stan’s indignant face. “Nuh-now you’ve got it.”

“I guess,” He huffs, folding it up and sliding it inside his backpack. Checking his watch, he blows a lock of hair out of his eye in a way that makes Bill’s heart flutter in a familiar way. “Aw, shoot, it’s closer to curfew than I thought. I gotta get home, Big Bill.”

He picks up his backpack, kissing Bill on the cheek absently before he starts heading out the door to his car.

And Bill flops back onto his bed, sighing a little and smiling at the feeling of Stan’s lips on his cheek. In a rare moment of weakness, he touches his hand to the spot where he was kissed.

The day had been great- he’d won the game, aced a quiz, gotten a kiss from Stan… Bill was a simple guy to please. There wasn’t much to it.

He’d find out the next day what a simple guy he was.

It really wasn’t all that good at first- Stan drove to school where Bill biked, they didn’t have the first few periods together- but come lunch break and Bill’s day got astronomically better.

The redhead was walking out of the mess hall with his vending-machine chips and soda in hand when he saw Stan sitting in his regular spot, waiting for Bill to come so they could find a spot to sit. They almost always sat on campus- they didn’t like the park much, anyways, but a bunch of the people they didn’t much need to be bothering with sat there. When Bill saw what Stan was wearing, though, he felt a wave of goosebumps

(shockflesh)

run up his arms.

Stan was in his uniform shirt.

Why was Bill surprised by this? He scolded himself. Obviously Stan was going to wear it, he gave it to him. Shirts were meant to be worn.

He guessed he just didn’t figure Stan would look so good in it.

It wasn’t the right size, that’s for sure. Not even close. The sleeves went down to his elbows and the bottom grazed the middle of his thigh, and it was like a tent on Stan’s tiny shoulders and chest and waist- everything, really. Stan was a tiny guy. It hung off of him like wet clothes on a line.

It certainly wasn’t anything like his usual fitted, slim-cut button ups with slacks or corduroy pants that were wonderfully complimentary of his figure, but it looked just as good as them over his khaki shorts. God, Bill thought, snorting a little, Stan always had looked so preppy in those shorts- he hadn’t worn them for years, not since

(since he almost died his face was so covered in blood you can still see the scars oh my god where are the scars now where did they go)

middle school, but you could hardly see them under the shirt. He wasn’t wearing a visible baseball undershirt, but he’d buttoned it up all the way so it barely hinted at collarbone. His hair matched the whole just-got-out-of-bed aesthetic, too, Bill though lovingly, longing to run his hands through the messy nest of curls on Stan’s head. It was obviously done with the intention of looking undone. It even looked tousled.

“Hey, kuh-k-kid,” Bill greeted, taking Stan’s hand and helping him up, reciprocating the little smile Stan was giving him.

“Heya, Bill.” Stan looked down at himself, his curls flopping upside down with the rest of his head, and he glanced up at Bill, his smile growing into a mischievous grin. “Like my shirt?”

Bill frowned slightly. “Nuh-not your shuh-sh-shirt. It’s muh-m-m-hine.” He tugged at the hem. “You’re juh-just b-b-borrowing it.”

“Whatever you say Bill,” Stan replied, rolling his eyes affectionately. “But do you like it?”

The redhead looked down at the smaller boy, surveying him with surgical care he didn’t really need. “Yuh-yeah,” He said finally. “Thuh-there’s only wuh-wuh-one thing.”

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Ih-it s-s-says Denbrough on the buh-b-back, right?”

“Mhm.”

“And puh-people know weh-we’re kinda together, ruh-right?”

“Yeah, I guess…” Stan’s eyes darted around Bill’s face for a clue of what he meant, but Bill only smiled.

“Ih-it just looks a l-little like…” He trailed off. “Luh-like you sp-spuh-spent the night over and nuh-needed a chuh-change.” Bill walked on in silence, leaving Stan confused.

Stanley jogged up after him, not used to the speed, holding onto Bill’s shoulder and asking, “so? Who cares?” He kept walking on his tippy toes, forcing Bill down a little into a slouch as he talked. “I’ve slept over at your house before school before.”

“Y-y-yeah,” Bill practically hissed. “Buh-huh-hut not coming to scuh-scuh-school the day after in m-my cluh-hothes, Stah-hanley.”

The confused look on Stan’s face shifted, and his hands went to his trim waist and settled on his tips. “Oh,” he said with a grin. “So that’s what’s up with you.” He straightened the shirt and grabbed Bill’s hand, mussing up his hair with his free one, and kept walking.

“S-s-s-so…” Bill trailed off. The shorter boy looked up at him with a smirk. “So, yuh-you’re okay with th-th-that?”

“Mhm!” Stan’s curls bobbed as he nodded and he pressed a quick kiss onto Bill’s jaw- the only place he could reach from so far below. “I love it, actually. I know why you were staring now, at least.”

“I wuh-wasn’t st-st-staring,” Bill mumbled, looking away. “I was j-j-just… ah-admiring.”

“Admiring?”

“Ah-ah-admiring.”

“Hm.” Stan looked up at his boyfriend, tapping his chin as if wondering something, like a detective. Bill felt his heart leap a little at how cute Stan looked like that. “Admiring isn’t what it looked like.”

Sighing in frustration, Bill looked back at the thin brunnet. “Ih-it’s what it wuh-wuh-was,” he responded, squeezing Stan’s hand. “I swuh-swuh-swear

(swear to me youll all come back swear it i swear bill i do i love you i love you i love)

th-that’s all it w-w-was.” He was more earnest now, wanting to make it clear to Stanley he respected him and would never treat him like a pretty thing to look at and not to talk to, loved him enough to treat him with decency.

Stan chewed his lip, looking at Bill in thought, before breaking out in a new smile and bumping his hip playfully.

“It’s okay, Bill,” He said happily. “I’m glad you looked.”

And the way Stan’s hair gleamed in the late summer sun and his frame looked so dwarfed and lovely in his jacket (oh how Bill loved he could say it was his), Bill was glad he looked, too.

#stan uris #bill denbrough #it #stanny.txt

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areacomplete · 7 years

Text

some unspoken thing pt. 4/6

stenbrough | 1,460 words / 5,105 total | ao3 | pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3

warnings for non-graphic injuries and references to violence & bullying, implied antisemitism & homophobia, mostly fluff this chapter

Stan finds himself in a dangerous situation with a schoolhouse bully, Ben doesn’t know what to do with him, and Bill ends up with some extra baggage. Not that he’s complaining.

“S-Stan, wuh-what’re you -- Stan!” Bill shouted, his bike clattering against the asphalt. His focus has shifted from finally being able to relax to Stan, and how Stan is hurt and Stan needs help because he saw Stan in the woods and he wouldn’t be lying if at least a little part of him really thought Stan was dead. Ben is standing next to him, his bike balanced carefully at his side, but Bill’s tunnel vision is already in effect.

He grabs Stan’s shoulders, gently, and makes the motion to steady him, though Stan is standing perfectly on his own. Bill’s eyes wander, looking at the gash on his face, the bruises on his arms, then back at the gash on his face. Stan’s brows are furrowed and he opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off when Ben taps on Bill’s shoulder.

“Bill, he’s alright. He’s not dead, at least.”

“H-Henry. I thought -- I thought Henry -- I thought yuh-you were,” Bill was stuttering over his words worse than he usually did; repeating phrases through breaths he couldn’t seem to get under control.

“I got away,” Stan says, simply, letting his shoulders fall. He pulls one of Bill’s arms off of his own and pats his forearm gently, offering a small smile. Bill smiles back, relaxing a little bit.

“You’re free, right? I can take Stan home, if you’re not,” Ben asked, pulling the boys’ attention over to where he was standing. Bill sighs, pulling his remaining hand off of Stan’s arm and running it through his hair.

“Yuh-yeah. P-parents -- P-parents don’t get huh-home for a wuh-while.”

“Alright,” Ben looked over to Stan, who nodded, and then swung a leg over his bike, climbing onto the seat. “If you need help, call me or Mike, alright?”

“Of course,” Stan replied, balling his hand up in the excess fabric of his tee-shirt.

The boys watched Ben ride away, offering a small wave each time he looked back. They watched him turn down the street, and Bill turned to Stan and offered his hand. Stan took it.

Bill led him through the door and up the stairs, making a right turn when they reached the end of the hallway. To the left was Georgie’s room; a door that hadn’t been opened in a very long time.

Bill’s room was almost completely cleaned -- the result of a random energy burst he had had in the middle of the night -- and any clothes that Bill had left on the floor when he woke up this morning were gingerly kicked under the bed before Stan could see them. He let go of Stan’s hand and motioned for him to sit on the bed.

“Your -- Your -- Your cl-clothes, are th-they o-okay? Are -- are yuh-you,”

“These are Ben’s, Bill.”

“I kn-kn-know, St-stan. Do -- do you wuh-want a juh-jacket?”

“Oh. Sure.”

Bill nodded, letting his eyes linger on Stan for a moment before turning away, moving to his closet. There were a few jackets and flannels hanging up, but he reached for one of his newer, bigger ones. Stan was a little smaller than Bill, comparatively, but Bill got the message when he showed up on Bill’s lawn wearing what he was instead of his normal, form-fitting clothes.

Out the window, Bill could see Silver lying on the road outside, her metal frame shimmering in the sunlight.

He handed Stan the jacket and Stan slipped it on, wincing slightly as he pulled it over his arms. He wrapped his hands in the ends of the sleeves and created little sweater paws. Bill smiled.

“Duh-do you wuh-want something to eat -- eat?”

“No, not really.” Stan looked away from Bill, focusing on the photos on the bedside table. Three framed photos, one of Georgie, one of the losers all together, smiling and laughing, and one of Bill’s parents, Georgie, and Bill, all comfortable and cute in matching sweaters, sat balanced together. Bill hated the last one, but it also made him feel like Georgie was still around. Like he was still laughing in the other room, muffled by the wood of the door instead of the inside of a sewer pipe.

“Oh -- oh.” He moved to sit on the bed, and Stan shifted to let him be more comfortable.

“What huh-happened out there?” Bill could feel Stan’s eyes on him, but he refused to make contact. His hands tightened against the comforter on the bed.

“It’s all kinda fuzzy, but,”

“Wuh-wait, did you -- did you hit your heh-head?”

Stan laughed a little bit, “No, Bill, I don’t think so. I was really running on adrenaline and nothing else the entire time, so that’s why everything’s kind of blurry in my memory.”

“O-oh.”

“Anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted,” Stan shot a glance at Bill, who laughed, “I was gonna say that I was walking down to the park to birdwatch when Henry and his gang caught up to me. I guess things really progressed from there.”

After a few moments of silence, Bill let out a stern “...Stan,” and Stan got the message.

“He might’ve called me some things. Things I don’t really want to repeat. I might’ve shot back with other things I won’t repeat,” he chuckled, “and that’s when he threw a punch. I got up as fast as I could and I ran, Bill. I ran as fast as my legs would take me. Wasn’t fast enough, I guess. A bad end to an already bad day.”

“Huh,” Bill nodded, watching his feet as they swung underneath him. He knocked his ankles against the sides of the bed, gently, creating a rhythm. He still felt Stan’s eyes on him.

“How did you know?”

“Wuh-what?”

“How did you know I was out there? You said, when Ben and I first rode up, you said I saw you, like you had been there. I didn’t see you anywhere.”

“I was out with -- I was ou-out with Ruh-Richie,” Bill stopped knocking his feet against the bed, “Wuh-we were guh-gonna mess around in the wuh-woods, but th-then I heard you a-and I sorta,”

“Were you the thing that hit Henry?”

“Yuh-yeah.” Bill met Stan’s eyes now. On his face was an expression of fondness, and perhaps a slight blush accented his cheeks, but Bill was still distracted by the cut on his cheek. He hadn’t done a very good job covering it with bandages. They were in a neat little line, but they ended up only covering fifty percent of the wound, give or take. Before Stan could say anything else, Bill stood up. “I’m guh-gonna get yuh-you a buh-better buh-bandage for the cut on your f-fuh-face -- face, ok?”

“Oh. Oh, okay.” Stan looked a little taken aback, and Bill stared at that expression for a little while before nodding and gliding out of the room. He pulled a pack of bandages from his medicine cabinet, this time longer and waterproof. Bill had decided on the waterproof ones because it was sort of like a fun bonus, or something along those lines. When he re-entered the room he waved them in the air, and Stan smiled.

Stan had moved to the back of the bed, propping himself up against the headboard with one leg hanging off the side. Bill made himself a spot next to his chest, sitting comfortably and twisting so he could see his face.

“Huh-here, tuh-take the buh-bandages off, and I’ll p-puh-put -- put, I’ll put this one on fuh-for you.”

Stan nodded and did as he was told, wincing slightly as the adhesive pulled at his skin but taking them off relatively easily. Bill cringed at the sight of the cut, now fully revealed. It wasn’t bleeding anymore, but it was definitely deep, and it travelled from the top of his nose to his cheekbone.

He sighed and took one of the bandages out of the box, peeling the paper off the back and using his free hand to steady Stan’s face, slightly cupping his hand around the boy’s uninjured cheek. Stan tensed a little, but said nothing.

He pressed the adhesive down on either side of the gash, and patted it gently when he was done, removing both his hands from Stan’s (oddly warm, he noticed) face. Stan brought his own hand up and adjusted it a little, but smiled.

“I -- Um -- Thanks, Bill.”

“Nuh-no big deal. The -- the old buh-bandages were buh-buh-bothering me anyway.”

You know, even though Stan was a little (a lot) roughed up, his hair tousled, and his eyes lacking a little of their usual shine, Bill really wanted to kiss him.

(What?)

Bill looked away, his attention shifting to the window again. Stan broke the silence first.

“Thanks.”

“Fuh-for what?”

“You saved my life, Bill Denbrough.”

(You saved my life.)

#stenbrough #it 2017 #it #stan uris #bill denbrough #ben hanscom #it's almost been an entire month i am SO sorry #my writing #someunspokenthingfic #implied homophobia /#implied antisemitism /

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