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ddproductionsw77 · 7 years ago

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Work Days Are Long Without You

Fandom: IT (2017)

Pairing(s): (Main) Reddie (Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak), (Hints of) Benverly (Ben Hanscom x Beverly Marsh), and Stenbrough (Stan Uris x Bill Denbrough)

Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, Mike Hanlon, Bill Denbrough, Stan Uris, Cassie Tozier (OC), Aaron Tozier (OC), and Alex Tozier (OC)

Rating: T

Description: Five times Richie visits Eddie at work and a time when Eddie visits Richie. (5+1 Fic) (Reddie)

Author’s Note: I love Reddie more than I should and my best friend/soulmate/sister and I came up with a ton of headcanons and this is the result of one. I claim Cassie Tozier, Alex Tozier, and Aaron Tozier as they are my and my friend’s headcanon babies.

Sidenote: Please tell me if you would like to see more Tozier kids or Loser Club kids in future fics. Seriously, give me requests! I may not get to them right away, but I will get to them!

(One - The Aladdin)

Eddie was 15 and just starting his first paying part-time job when Richie visited him at work the first time.

It had taken a whole year after he’d turned the correct age for a working permit to persuade his mother to actually let him get one.

You’ll overwork yourself!

You’re too delicate, Eddie Bear!

What do you need a job for anyway? I provide for you!

Eddie hadn’t had the courage to tell his mother that he needed a job to start saving for college. NYU, his dream school, wasn’t cheap.

Sonia would never forgive him if he dared to bring up the topic of further education. She wanted him to stay right where he was in their little house in tiny, suffocating Derry with her day after day. She couldn’t even imagine her little boy going off to college in New York and she’d definitely never pay to help him do it.

Eddie’s only option was to keep shut up about his plans and try to pay his own way.

Practically every teenager in Derry worked at either Freese’s Department Store or the Aladdin at some point. It was the starting point for all their mediocre career paths. So, Eddie applied at the Aladdin, since Bill worked there, and was hired shortly after. The theater was a revolving door of high school aged employees and willing to give any kid in Derry a shot.

Bill watched him from the cash register, arms crossed over his chest and a glint of amusement in his eyes. Eddie sent him a quick glare and wiped harder at the smuggled glass candy display.

“You know no one c-c-cares if that’s clean, right?” Bill quirked an eyebrow.

“I care.” Eddie corrected, “This place is disgusting. If I’m going to be working here, I’m going to make it clean.”

Bill raised his hands in mock surrender, “If you i-i-insist, E-E-Eddie.”

Eddie returned to frantically windexing the glass case and wiping, “I mean, what does it say about the Aladdin if everything’s covered in dust?”

“Does it ma-matter?” Bill asked, “I-I mean, it’s the o-o-only theater in t-town, so…”

Bill trailed off, only for his attention to be grabbed a moment later by a couple approaching the counter. He hadn’t taught Eddie how to work the ticket printer yet, so the other boy just watched at Bill silently worked up the couple’s tickets.

He noticed that Bill didn’t speak a single syllable more than he had to. The leader of the Losers spoke freely and easily around his friends but, though his stutter was always improving, he still got quiet around strangers.

Eddie frowned and went about changing out the syrup in the soda machine, something Bill had already walked him through.

About two hours into Eddie’s very first shift, the door of the Aladdin swung open and five Losers came strolling in.

Beverly, who’d only moved back to Derry at the start of summer a month ago, was chatting enthusiastically with Ben. Mike and Stan were behind them, also talking until Stan caught Bill’s eye and fell silent with a blush. But Eddie’s attention was drawn to the asshole leading the small crowd.

Richie grinned and bounded up to the counter, lifting himself up to sit on the glass display Eddie’d just scrubbed down.

Eddie gave the boy an aghast look, “Get your disgusting ass off!”

“Aw, but Eds, I just want to be close to you! You don’t have any time for me now that you’re a real working man!” Richie reached out and pinched Eddie’s cheek.

“Don’t do that!” Eddie snapped, pushing Richie’s hand away. What was the asshole even talking about, anyway? Richie’d been working at the arcade since the start of summer. If anything, he hadn’t had time for Eddie lately.

“Okay, okay, you two!” Mike came over and pulled Richie off the counter, throwing him over his shoulder. “Stop flirting.”

Eddie’s face turned bright red, “W-we were not flirting!”

Over Mike’s shoulder, Richie could be heard calling, “Actually, I was flirting!”

Bill grinned from behind the counter. Glancing over at Stan though, he quickly looked back down at the ticket machine and spoke to Ben, the grin replaced by a blush.

“Hey, g-guys. What m-movie?”

Beverly helped pull Richie from Mike’s shoulder before tugging both boys back to the counter, “The Silence of The Lambs.”

“Bev, you said—“ Stan started, looking outraged.

“Oh hush,” Beverly waved him off, scooting closer to Ben until their shoulders brushed. “You would have come no matter the movie, Stanley.”

She turned her head back to Bill and winked at him. He gulped, glancing over her shoulder at an indignant Stan, who was now closely inspecting his Adidas. Clearing his throat, Bill told Bev the total, having subtracted his own employee discount as a favor.

Richie made his way back to Eddie, an amused smirk on his lips.

Before he could even speak, Eddie threw his hand up and cut him off, “No. I am trying to work, asshole. So, buy a soda or fuck off.”

“Damn, Eds,” Richie whistled under his breath. “I’m hurt.”

“Please,” Eddie rolled his eyes, “You’re fine.”

Richie shrugged, “True but only because seeing you in this uniform cheers me up.” He reached out and ghosted his hand over Eddie’s shoulder. “So damn adorable.”

The other boy’s mouth was left slightly a gap as he tried to find the words to respond. Richie had a habit of tripping Eddie up and leaving him speechless. He threw Eddie for a loop and looked so carefree doing it; it infuriated the asthmatic.

Richie glanced over at their friends, who were still occupied with buying their movie tickets, before resting his elbows on the counter and leaning in closer to Eddie. His lip twitched up into a genuine smile instead of his usual playful smirk.

“I’m proud of you, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Eddie gulped and shrugged, inspecting the glass counter, “I, uh- Well, I guess, thank-”

“Richie!”

Both boys turned at Stan’s voice, Eddie jumping and nearly toppling the condiments container. Their friends gave each other knowing looks before Stan continued, “Movie, remember? You coming or not? You can talk to Eddie after we get out.”

Richie Tozier, who never got embarrassed and was never flustered, rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged at Eddie with pink ears, “See you later, Spaghetti Man.”

Eddie watched him bound after the other Losers, easily catching up to match their strides with his long legs.

Turning back to Bill, he swallowed and shakily said, “What a Trashmouth, huh?”

Bill snorted, “S-sure, Eddie.”

(Two - Center Street Drug)

Having a part-time job and attempting to make the first relationship of your life work — he did not count his four days as Tanya Barrett’s boyfriend in Freshman year — all while maintaining stellar grades was difficult, Eddie Kaspbrak was finding.

He’d been working since he was 15, now a stock boy at Center Street Drug instead of the Aladdin, and he’d never before had trouble finding hours to dedicate to odd shifts. Weekend days and Friday evenings were avoided when possible so that he could hang out with the Losers but for the most part, he took whatever schedule Mr. Keene handed down.

��Until he’d gotten himself a boyfriend a month ago.

Call it the honeymoon phase, the bubble, whatever you wanted, but the simple fact of the matter was that all Eddie wanted these days was to be near Richie.

When he wasn’t with the notorious Trashmouth, he was thinking about being with him. He watched the clock, checked his wristwatch, observed the way the sunlight shadowed the shelves of the drugstore, counting the minutes until his shift would end and he’d be able to meet up with his boyfriend once again.

That was basically how he occupied the long stretches of time where no one came into Center Street Drug. Thinking about Richie once again, Eddie walked up and down the aisles and straightened various products. He had just reached the far counter when he heard the bell above the door ring, signaling a customer.

“I’ll be with you in one moment!” Eddie called, making his way back toward the door. He paused at the start of the aisle, glancing over his shoulder to double check the store was still empty. “Richie? What are you doing here?”

His boyfriend kept his head down, moving forward with his hands in the pockets of his ripped black jeans. “I, uh, I need some help, Eddie Spaghetti.”

Richie looked up, an expression of uncharacteristic uncertainty on his face. The drugstore stock boy was so taken aback that he didn’t even comment on the stupid fucking nickname.

“What are you talking about?” Eddie asked, stepping forward. For once, he was thankful for the slow business of the Center Street Drug. He and Riche weren’t exactly public yet to anyone but the Losers Club.

“Uh, well, you see…” The other boy slowly pulled his hands from his pockets, flinching as he extended his arms and opened his balled fists. Kleenex had been gripped in his palms and were soaked through with his blood.

Eddie gasped involuntarily and rushed forward, gingerly cupping Richie’s hands in his own. “What happened?”

Richie shrugged but remained silent and instantly Eddie knew. How ever his boyfriend had gotten injured, it was somehow caused by his parents. Richie only got quiet when Maggie and Wentworth Tozier were involved. Normally, he couldn’t be shut up.

Eddie swallowed down the rage that burned to life in his chest and nodded, “Okay then, come on.”

He gripped Richie’s forearm and began to lead him down the aisle, picking up various products along the way and stuffing them into the crook of his free arm. He’d pay for them later and stack his frequent customer and employee discounts.

Reaching the back counter, Eddie dropped Richie’s arm and fished a set of keys from the pocket of his tan slacks. He unlocked the half door to the pharmacy and let Richie in before closing it behind them.

Finally, he sat his boyfriend down at a desk set behind one of the shelves of medicine, out of sight should anyone wander in. Eddie wasn’t ashamed to be dating Richie, but he wasn’t stupid either. The people of Derry weren’t ready for that yet.

He hadn’t admitted yet to his own mother that he and Richie were dating, let alone strangers. Richie had agreed to play along because they both knew that in a town like Derry it was physically safer to be straight. Richie wanted Eddie safe.

Richie watched from his seat as Eddie carefully set out gauze, triple antibiotic, and wrappings. Holding his hand out when Eddie gestured for it, Richie cringed as the other boy pulled away the tissues and inspected the actual cuts in his palms.

They were deep but not quite deep enough for Eddie to insist on the emergency room. He’d gone through these motions with Richie enough to know that the insistence would only by falling on deaf ears anyway. Hospitals asked too many questions, according to the Trashmouth. Eddie thought that maybe someone should be asking questions, but he didn’t voice that.

“There’s glass in one of these cuts, dark glass like a—” Like a Budweiser. Eddie held Richie’s hand close. His eyes flickered to meet his boyfriend’s as he softly murmured, “So, glass… Your mother and a beer bottle?”

Richie smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes, “In all fairness, I think she was just practicing for when Dad got home but yeah, she threw a bottle or two.”

“At you?”

“In my general direction.” Richie shrugged again and Eddie thought he might throw up from rage and his exhaustion at dealing with a boyfriend who was seemingly unbothered by the abuse he had to take from his shit parents.

Instead of saying anything more, Eddie just sighed and took up tweezers he’d grabbed before, angling Richie’s hand toward the light. Tongue peeking out from between his teeth, he started to go after the shard of glass embedded in his boyfriend’s palm.

Richie gasped and squeezed his eyes shut.

“Dammit, Eddie! A little warning next time, maybe? I thought I was gonna pass out there for a second.” He grounded out from between clenched teeth.

The other boy rolled his eyes but still looked apologetic, “Don’t be a baby! Besides, I already got it.”

He reached over and dropped the shard into the discarded, bloody tissues. Next, he grabbed the alcohol swabs and tore the small packets open to clean Richie’s cuts. The other boy squirmed but managed to stay still enough for Eddie to get the job done.

The short hypochondriac paused, hand hovering above a thin white scar that had been sliced by one of the lacerations. Raising his own hand, he laid their palms side-by-side, eyes flickering from one scar to the other.

The Blood Oath. It was just another thing that tied him to Richie like the red string of fate, their promise to come back, one day…

Richie overturned one of his hands, tracing an uninjured fingertip along the long since healed wound on Eddie. The feather-light touch gave the other boy chills, causing him to pull away and blink rapidly as if startled.

“Uh, don’t want you to get any infections,” Eddie muttered, trying to recover from the touch that had felt so intimate and personal a moment ago. He shakily applied triple antibiotic to the now clean cuts before setting gauze over them and encasing both hands in wrappings.

Reluctantly, his eyes trailed from Richie’s hands which still settled into his own up to his face. Eddie’s heart skipped a beat, realizing how close the two of them really were, enough that he heard Richie’s breath quicken as their gazes met. Richie’s cheek turned the lightest shade of pink and Eddie grinned, blushing scarlet himself.

He liked making Richie nervous, especially because his boyfriend always seemed ‘too cool for nerves’.

“I hate seeing you hurt.” He breathed, a whispered confession meant just for the two of them, in that moment.

Richie didn’t even blink as he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Eddie’s, their eyes staying locked the whole time. “I know, I’m sorry.”

Eddie shook his head ever so slightly so as not to make Richie move away from him. Angling his neck, he brought their faces even closer together, noses brushing. “Nothing to be sorry for. I just wish…”

Finally, his gaze flickered away, down to Richie’s hands. Quickly ducking his head, he pressed a light kiss to each wrapped palm before taken back up his previous position of sharing Richie’s personal space. “I just wish things were different. That you were safe.”

Richie looked at Eddie so intensely that, for a moment, Eddie thought he’d die right there from the fire stirring in his stomach. Then Richie leaned in and bridged the gap between their lips, kissing Eddie so hard that it hurt a little. Eddie didn’t mind.

Instead, Eddie kissed him back just as intensely, moving his lips against Richie’s in the natural rhythm that they always seemed to lull into when they did this. It was like they were meant to kiss each other like they were meant to only kiss each other. Eddie knew how stupid that sounded and yet it still felt so true.

Richie pulled away and chuckled when Eddie attempted to chase his lips, “Hey, hey, hey, you’re on the clock, baby. We can finish this later.”

Eddie almost died again hearing Richie call him ‘baby’.

(Three - The Village Grocery)

New York was so much fucking better than Derry, dear god.

The water tasted better, the air was easier to breathe, and the sun shone more on Central Park than it ever had on Memorial or Bassey. Coming to New York, despite his mother begging for him not to, was one of the greatest things Eddie Kaspbrak had ever done.

People did as they pleased here, seemingly unafraid to like what they liked and be who they wanted.

And there was NYU, with its nursing program, grand library, and polished, gleaming surfaces that were more than Eddie had ever dared to imagine. It was like he was living the ‘Theme from New York, New York’ by Frank Sinatra. He’d always thought it was so over exaggerated when people talked about being in love with a place or an object; Eddie’d only ever truly been in love with other people. Only, now he understood.

He was in love with New York.

Eddie swore the only thing keeping the city from actually being the love of his life was Richie Tozier, who’d long ago claimed that position.

And because of his love for both Richie Tozier and New York, he was planning on moving into an apartment in the Village with his boyfriend before the start of their second year at NYU that fall. He still smiled to himself when he recalled to mind how nervous Richie’d been to finally ask him to find a place together. It was foolish, of course, seeing as Richie traded dorms with Bill every night so that they could both be with their boyfriends, meaning that Richie and Eddie were practically already cohabitating.

The issue was that moving into an apartment cost money, something neither Richie nor Eddie had an abundance of.

So, Richie was working, a paid internship at the campus radio station that he hoped would eventually get him some connections. Eddie still thought it was incredibly appropriate that Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier was working for radio and majoring in Communications as a young adult. Meanwhile, Eddie had picked up some more shifts at the grocery store where he’d been hired upon first moving to New York.

Together, they were financing quite a nice little savings account by the time it was halfway through their second Freshman semester and now, with summer just beginning, they could afford to start going though vacancy ads in the classifieds.

Eddie sighed, standing at the check-out register without a single customer. He spied Mr. Costello, a regular to the small Village Grocery, in the cheese aisle debating between cheddar and Swiss. Knowing his manager was out back for a smoke break, he took up a pen and began to doodle listlessly on a pad of paper.

The sliding doors whirled and parted, causing Eddie to glance up from his pad of paper and do a double take. Standing up straight, he looked back at Mr. Costello before making his way around the register and to the man who’d just come in.

“Uh, hi? What are you—“

Richie grabbed his hand with a mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes and pulled him toward the back of the store.

“I was missing you, baby.” Richie tossed over his shoulder, knowing full well how the pet name turned Eddie to melty play-doh. “Now, just trust me.”

And that was how within five minutes, Eddie Kaspbrak ended up pressed up against the storage shelves of the stock room, lips hard and steady against his own.

The store always played the local radio throughout the building and ‘You Spin Me Round (Like A Record)’ by Dead or Alive rang through the tiny, dark room as Richie’s hands slipped under his uniform green polo to brush over vertebrae of his spine.

I set my sights on you

(And no one else will do)

And I, I’ve got to have my way now, baby

Moaning in approval, Eddie ran his own hands up his boyfriend’s arms before reaching his neck where he tangled his fingers into Richie’s curly, black hair.

A tongue ran along his lower lip, asking for permission, and he eagerly opened his mouth while pulling the other boy closer to him.

Once upon a time, Eddie had shoved Richie away for even trying open-mouthed kissing, disgusted by the idea of sharing so many germs with any being, even one he loved, but these days he craved the taste of nicotine and dime store mints that was purely Richie Tozier.

All I know is that to me

You look like you’re havin’ fun

Open up your lovin’ arms

Watch out, here I come

Richie’s fingers moved to just barely skim the sides of Eddie’s ribcage, making the smaller boy giggle and break the kiss involuntarily. Richie smirked and ducked his head to press searing kisses to Eddie’s neck and collarbone.

Struggling to find his voice, Eddie whimpered, “R-Richie, stop. I’m gonna, um, gonna get fired if my manager finds us.”

“He won’t find us,” The taller boy murmured against Eddie’s skin, sending a shiver up his spine.

Knotting his fingers deeper into Richie’s hair, he groaned, “Seriously, Richie, stop. I c-can’t think straight when you…”

He trailed off, as Richie kissed a path up to his ear, pausing to whisper, “Thought you never really thought straight, Eds.” The next thing Eddie knew, Richie’s teeth were grazing his earlobe and he suddenly couldn’t care less about getting fired or beeping his boyfriend.

You spin me right ‘round, baby

Right 'round like a record, baby

Right 'round, 'round, 'round

Giving a startled yelp, one of Eddie’s hands flew out for purchase as his knees grew weak. Packages of paper towel went flying off the shelf, sending both boys into fits of laughter. Richie rested his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder, trying to catch his breath as Eddie stroked his tangle of messy, black hair.

Sobering, Eddie sighed and shifted against Richie, “I should get back to work…”

“I don’t want you to go,” Richie whined, muffled by Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie huffed, “Don’t do that! It’s not fair. You know I’ll be off work in just a couple hours.”

“I don’t want to wait a couple of hours.” Richie murmured and Eddie rolled his eyes, grasping a fist full of hair and pulling the other boy away from him.

“God, Tozier, why are you so damn needy today?” He asked, getting slightly annoyed.

Richie shrugged with a pout and stepped back, freeing Eddie, “Fine, fine, go back to fucking work.”

The two boys left the storage room, only for Eddie to run directly into a confused Mr. Costello. The old man eyed both young men, from Richie’s rumpled hair to Eddie’s untucked shirt, before pointing to the cashier.

“I’m ready to check out, ya hooligan.”

Eddie flushed bright red and heard Richie crack up behind him. Elbowing his boyfriend, he nodded, “Yes, of course, Mr. Costello. Right this way,” He navigated the man toward check-out.

Richie slipped past them as Eddie rang Mr. Costello up, pausing at the door to turn around and mouth I love you before he left the grocery.

Eddie rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching up into a small smile, and went about telling Mr. Costello his total.

The old man handed him the money and Eddie went about counting out his change as the man muttered to himself, “Boys kissing in closets; kids these days…”

Eddie bit his lip so as not to burst into laughter, handing the money and receipt over to Mr. Costello. After the man left, Eddie glanced at his wristwatch, wondering just how many hours it would be before he was with Richie again.

(Four - NYU Tutor Center)

The Beatles played lightly throughout the NYU Tutor Center, reminding Eddie of Richie. He loved the 60s English band and covered a few of their songs with his own band as well as hanging a poster of the Abbey Road cover in their living room, despite Eddie’s protests.

Closing his eyes briefly to help relieve his budding headache, Eddie listened closer to identify the exact song.

When you need a shoulder to cry on

I hope it will be mine

Call me tonight, and I’ll come to you.

“Any time at all,” Eddie sang along to the song in a low voice, “Any time at all. Any time at all, all you got to do is call and I’ll be there.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet, Eds!” A voice chimed in behind him.

Eddie rolled his eyes and spun his chair around to glare at his boyfriend standing in the doorway, “You’re late, asshole.”

Richie came over to the table, throwing himself down into the chair across from Eddie, “Nah, I’m not.”

“You scheduled your tutor session for 4:00. It’s 4:17 so you’re 17 minutes late.” Eddie reasoned.

Richie quirked an eyebrow and reached over, grabbing Eddie’s arm to read the wristwatch there. “Fuck, well, then the clock on our stove is off.”

“Yeah, dipshit, I know,” Eddie snapped but there was amusement and endearment in his eyes. “It’s been off since you reset it for daylight savings.”

“Whatever,” Richie shrugged, “Fuck numbers.”

“No, Richie, not fuck numbers!” Eddie argued, slamming his palm into his forehead. “God, this is why you’re failing Trig.”

“I’m failing Trig because Professor G is a straight up bitch.” The other boy muttered under his breath before speaking up, “But you’re going to fix that, Eddie Spaghetti! Teach me, baby!”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie hissed, blushing bright red and glancing at the closed door to the tutor room. He didn’t even know if he was telling Richie not to call him ‘Eddie Spaghetti’ or ‘baby’. “Now, listen up, asshole…”

They were doing pretty good for about a half hour, actually covering material until Richie inevitably grew bored. He watched with a distracted gaze as Eddie drew a graph and showed him an example of an exponential line.

Richie’s eyes trailed from the board to Eddie and down Eddie’s frame, a smirk growing on his lips.

“Hey, Eds!”

“Hmm?” Eddie asked, looking up from the textbook to his boyfriend.

Richie nodded cockily at the board, “Nice assymptote.”

Eddie stared at him for a moment, void of any expression. Finally, he raised an eyebrow, “Seriously, Rich?”

“Eds,” Richie’s expression grew serious, “My love for you is like y=2 to the power of x—”

“Stop.”

“—it grows exponentially.”

Eddie sighed, irritatedly, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Focus, please, babe. You need to be good at math to live your li—“

“I think I am good at math,” Richie countered, leaning forward over the table. “I can add a bed, subtract your clothes, divide your legs, and—“

“Beep beep, Richie!” Eddie practically cried, the color of a tomato. “Oh my god, just shut up! We are discussing trigonometry! Not, you know, that!”

“That?” Richie echoed, laughing. “Eddie, you’re 20 and you are definitely not a virgin, you should be able to say the word ‘sex’.”

“Tozier, I will punch you in the face and let you fail Trig, I swear to God!”

“Okay, okay!” Richie held his hands up in mock surrender, laughing. Eddie relaxed slightly after eyeing his boyfriend suspiciously for a long moment.

“One more—“

“Richie, no—“

“I wish you were Trig so I could spend hours doing you.”

There was a long stretch of silence. Richie smirking triumphantly and Eddie staring at him with his mouth slightly agape.

“Yup, I’m done. Have fun failing Trig, dumbass.”

(Five - Derry Home Hospital)

Eddie had twenty minutes left in a twelve-hour shift.

The thought nearly brought him to tears of relief.

His and Richie’s shoebox house in the newer part of Derry, where they’d been living since their return to the town the year before, seemed to be calling to him from across miles. Only a cramped bus ride and twenty minutes stood between him and his boyfriend, snuggled in their bed.

It still felt a little surreal that Richie Tozier was actually in a relationship with him, Eddie Kaspbrak, even five years later. They’d been together since Eddie was 17 — he did not count the ‘Break-Up’ of ‘94 — and still, it didn’t seem quite possible. He found himself wondering somedays if Richie even liked him, despite the fact that the other boy had actually professed undying love… Richie was always so dramatic.

Rubbing his brow, Eddie readied a saline drip for a small girl with the flu who was dehydrated from being unable to keep anything down. He approached her room and knocked on the door frame, waving to her and her mother as she tried to smile at him.

“Hi, Alice,” Eddie greeted softly as he moved to her IV machine, saline in hand. “I have some medicine that’s going to make you feel better.”

“Promise?” Alice asked, big green eyes on him as her mother stroked her blonde curls from her forehead.

“I’ll do you one better,” Eddie hung up the bag before turning to Alice and extending a hand, pinkie finger raised. “Pinkie promise.”

The six-year-old grinned widely and linked her finger with his. They shook and Eddie went about connecting the various tubes and priming them. Finally, he connected the line to the IV in Alice’s thin arm and unclamped the drip.

He sent a reassuring smile to Alice’s mother, “She should be feeling better here in the next few hours.”

The mother nodded, still gazing at her daughter worriedly.

“Eddie?”

He turned around to find one of his favorite fellow nurses, Grace, standing in the doorway. Quirking an eyebrow at her, he glanced at the mother and daughter duo he was still attending to. “Yes?”

“There’s someone here for you. He said he was a friend?” She informed him, giving Alice and her mother an apologetic look. “I can take over for you here.”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie nodded, confused. What friend of his would come visit him at work? Any Loser would just wait until he was home… right? “Thanks, Gracie.”

She smiled at him and swapped him positions in the room. He heard her introduce herself as he left the room and headed to the ER nursing station.

He slowed his pace upon spotting a disastrous black hoodie and dark, torn skinny jeans. Richie was a grown ass man and still dressed like a high schooler, even when showing up unannounced to his boyfriend’s work apparently. The other man was chatting animatedly with the Head Nurse, Carla, and grinning.

His dark eyes swept the area, spotting the perplexed Eddie, and he stood up straighter, “There’s my Eddie Spaghetti!”

This sent Eddie into action. He blushed and rushed forward, grabbing Richie’s arm and pulling him away. He called to Carla over his shoulder, “I apologize for anything he said!”

Dragging Richie around the corner, Eddie hissed, “Why are you here?” His stomach dropped and he began scanning over his boyfriend, “Oh shit, are you hurt?”

“Eds, breathe,” Richie placed his hands on Eddie’s arms and used his thumbs to rub circles on the other boy’s skin. “Can’t a boyfriend just come to pick his bitch up from work every once and a while?”

“I’m not your bitch,” Eddie snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “And why did you tell Gracie you were my ‘friend’ coming to see me?”

“Oh, um,” Richie took one hand back to fiddle with the strings of his hoodie. “Well, you just started here so I wasn’t sure if everyone knew about you having a boyfriend.”

“Trashmouth, we’ve been out of the closet since we started college. I’m not going back in anytime soon,” Eddie waved his arms, “but that’s not the point! The point is— Wait, you came to pick me up?”

“I got done at the station early,” Richie shrugged. “And I hate that you always have to take the bus and I get the car. I figured it might be a nice thing to do.”

Since Richie worked on the edge of town at Derry K105.3 radio station, hosting his own little show from 3 pm to 6 every weekday night and running the soundboard for other DJs while Eddie worked in the middle of town at Derry Home Hospital, they had agreed Richie got the car and Eddie got the bus pass. Did Eddie like taking the bus? No, but he did like doing things the logical way and until they got a second car, this was the way to go.

Still, that Richie had thought about him and his resentment for the bus, even after he himself had had a long day, made Eddie melt just a little.

Smiling with only half his lips, he reached up and took Richie’s face in his hands. He pressed a quick kiss to his boyfriend’s lips and rested their foreheads together.

“I have one more patient to check on. Think you can keep yourself out of trouble for that long?” Eddie asked, raising his eyebrows.

Richie bit his lip, making Eddie just want to kiss him again. “No guarantees, baby.”

Eddie sighed and nodded, pecking Richie’s jawline before stepped back. “I guess I can’t expect anything else. Go wait at the nursing station and I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

He started down the hall toward his last patient but was stopped by Richie grasping his wrist. Eddie looked back at his boyfriend, questioning.

“Go do what you love, Eds. Go help people.”

Eddie smiled as Richie released his grip. “I will but, you do know that I’ll also be pretty happy to go home with you when I’m done, right? I happen to love that, too, Trashmouth.”

“And I happen to love you.”

“Shut up, Tozier.”

“You know you love me, Eds!” Richie yelled down the hall after Eddie.

God, did he ever.

(+ One - Derry K105.3)

“So, we got Records back in the studio with us after a week away,” David Olsen, who’d been filling in for the last week for Richie, said into his boom mic. “So, ladies and gents, without further ado, Rich ‘Records’ Tozier!”

The soundboard operator pressed a button and a round of pre-recorded applause filled the room. Richie smiled and lazily rolled his eyes at David, who gave him a look of exasperation in agreement.

Leaning into his mic, Richie started off with his English gentleman voice, “‘Ello, me lovely listeners.”

David laughed, “Good to have you back, Records.”

“Good to be back, Davey.” Richie responded with a sigh.

And it was true.

It was good to be back in his studio, doing his thing, catering to his usually late show audience. He’d been promoted to K105.3’s lead 6 pm to midnight host and disc jockey about two years ago. Only he had to come in at 2 pm every day for staff meetings and administrative red tape. Then, he ran soundboard for Davey from 3 until he went on air. The ten hour days were long but the higher ranking position defiantly had its benefits… and its adversities.

Still, he was glad to be back.

“For anyone who’s been living under a rock the last week,” Davey preambled, “Your favorite late night jockey was in California for a Radio Communications conference for the last week. Tell me, Records, what’s LA like?”

Richie chuckled, “You’re not gonna believe me, Davey, but it’s actually bigger than our fair Derry.” He answered sarcastically.

“Nah, you don’t say!” Davey answered with equal wit.

“I do say, good sir,” Richie broke back in his English Gentleman and laughter rang out from the soundboard before he cleared his throat, returning to his normal voice. “No, no, LA’s really great. In another life, I’d probably even live out there.”

Davey nodded, “Fair enough, fair enough. So, Records, highs and lows of this week-long vacation — sorry, conference. Start with the high; what was the best thing about the trip?”

Richie smirked cockily, “The women, of course.”

They both burst into laughter and David clapped Richie hard on the back as the young jockey quickly backpedaled, “I’m kidding, Davey, obviously. I am married, remember? And if the good ole ball and chain heard me say that, I’d be dead… Still, the ladies are a whole different caliber down in Cali, I’m telling ya.”

They both laughed again and Richie continued, “My real highest point was when I got to meet Ozzy Osbourne, though.”

“You’re shitting me,” David asked, floored, and Richie knew his co-workers swear was being beeped out in the five-second delay. Ah, the irony of being literally beeped…

“I ain’t shittin’ ya, me boy.” Richie leaned back in his chair. “A jockey from the area had a contact and offered to introduce me. You don’t just turn down the Oz.”

“True, true,” David raised his hands in mock surrender, “Okay, so the lowest part?”

The answer came easily to Richie, not even having to think about it before he said, “Not seeing my family for a week.”

“Oh, boo!” Davey groaned, “Come on, man, that’s such a boring, bullshit answer.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Richie shook his head and shrugged, “Unlike you, Davey, I actually enjoy my significant other and my kids.”

He did, oh God, he did.

Being away from Eddie, his little girl, his boys, it was like torture.

One night, he’d actually had to call Eddie at two in the morning, begging him to go check on the twins because he’d had a dream where they were just gone, taken away. Eddie had checked and both infants had been sound asleep, perfectly fine. Richie had broken down from fear and exhaustion, he had talked about leaving the conference early, that he missed them too much to stay the full week, that he needed to be back with them.

Eddie had listened, quietly and carefully even though he was undoubtedly even more tired than Richie from chasing after three kids under the age of five all on his own. When Richie had grown silent almost an hour later, he’d sighed.

Babe, I know it’s hard. I can’t imagine being away for a week, but you are where you need to be right now. You have three more days and we’re fine here. You can do this, Rich. I know you can… And we’ll be waiting for you when you’re done.

Bringing himself back to the studio and Davey, he tried to remember what his co-worker had even asked. Oh, right, David had asked if he really had kids in an incredulous voice. Of course, no one would believe Rich ‘Records’ Tozier was settled down…

“Yeah, I really had kids, Davey. You’ve seen fucking pictures of them, dude.”

“Oh…right,” Davey shifted like he was uncomfortable and Richie got the impression that he did not remember any one of Richie’s children by name or appearance. “But a week away has got to be like a vacation, right? I mean, how old are the little tykes?”

“Cassie’s four and my boys, Alex and Aaron, are only five months old,” Richie answered easily, a small smile growing on his face just talking about his family. “It’s not like a vacation at all, man. I missed ‘em like crazy and I don’t even get to see them tonight because I don’t get done here till after they’re all asleep.”

“Damn, dude, that’s rough.” Davey trailed off, obviously having no idea where Richie was coming from. “Moving on…”

An hour later, they broke for the 7 pm All-Music hour.

Richie rubbed his neck, trying to relax his muscles that were still sore from his flight. He needed caffeine, he decided, and soon. Walking toward the staff kitchenette, he slipped his hand into his jean pocket and took out his wallet.

Flipping it open, he smiled at the pictures the unraveled from within.

Cassie, the day she was born, the very first time Eddie had held her.

Cassie, taking her first steps right to Stuttering Bill of all people.

Alex and Aaron, the day they were born with Bevvie holdin’ one of em and Ben Haystack the other; Bevvie’d been pregnant for the second go round herself at the time.

Alex and Aaron in the outfits Mikey had gotten for them, reading “Double” and “Trouble”.

And at the bottom of the fold out, Eddie. A picture from way back, it seemed, when they’d only just started dating in high school.

He was resting his chin on his palm, elbow on his knee, with the Quarry as his background. His eyebrows were raised in exasperation at the camera — or more accurately at Richie — but a smile of utter endearment adorned his lips. It was a picture that reminded Richie that even on their bad days, even when he fucked-up bad, even when no one else could stand him, Eddie loved him.

“Papa!”

Richie nearly tripped over his own feet, whirling around at the achingly familiar voice.

A lively blur of long, chocolate brown curls and big baby blues sprinted down the hallway toward him and he stooped to lift the child right into the air. His felt his eyes water pathetically as he held her tight and buried his face in her hair. She smelled like home and her tiny arms squeezed Richie’s neck.

“Cassie Anne!” He laughed out tearfully, ducking away from her to see her bright, grinning face. Glancing behind her, his heart skipped a beat as he spied the love of his life at the end of the hall with a full sky blue double stroller.

Cassie gripped his chin, pulling his face back toward her to regain his full attention, “Papa, you was gones foevea!”

“Gone forever, Cas.” Eddie corrected like it was second nature while rolling his eyes, “And no, Papa wasn’t. It was only a week, baby girl.”

The child pouted and crossed her arms over her chest, still in her Papa’s arms. “Still!”

“I know, Cassie Anne. It was forever—“

“Richie, don’t encourage her dramatics!”

“—but I promised I’m never going away for that long again. I missed you too much.” He bopped the little girl’s nose, which she scrunched up in response while giggling. “You and Daddy and Alex and Aaron.”

Cassie grew sober at the mention of her little brother and rolled her eyes, “Eryone missus Alex and Aaron.”

“Cassidy,” Eddie broke in, his tone warning, “We talked about this. And its ‘everyone’, not ‘eryone’.”

Richie raised a questioning eyebrow to his husband and only received an eye roll very similar to the display their daughter had put on only seconds ago and a mouthed later. He shrugged it off, grinning at Eddie, “What are you guys doing here?”

“We came to visit you, dumba—“ Eddie cut himself off, blushing a bit as he glanced at Cassie and tried to ignore Richie’s smirk. It had been Eddie’s idea not to swear in front of the kids. It made his slip-ups and near slip-ups all the more hilarious to Richie.

“Silly. I figured you’d want to see them before tomorrow morning. Then again Alex and Aaron haven’t been sleeping through the night anyway, so you’d probably have a reunion with them before morning anyway… Whatever.”

Richie grinned, his heart constricting in his chest. He pecked Cassie’s cheek as he set her down and mouthed a Thank you to Eddie. His husband half smiled and shrugged, the look in his eyes soft and tender.

It was just another thing Richie absolutely treasured about Eddie Kaspbrak, now Tozier. He always just knew even without Richie saying so. He’d known Richie would be desperate to see Cassie, Alex, and Aaron and he’d apparently driven them to the edge of town just for Richie because he’d known.

Richie stooped down before the stroller, grinning, “And how are my Young Dudes?”

“Oh my God, stop calling them that! They are not Mott the Hoople lyrics, Trashmouth! We named them for a reason.” Eddie snapped.

“Yeah, because you just loved ‘Alex’ and ‘Aaron’. ‘They’ll both start with As, Richie! It’ll be so cute, Richie!’” He did a lazy impression of Eddie at the end but even his half-assed effort produced a pretty accurate portrayal. He was the Man of Many Voices, after all.

“I let you do ‘Smith’ and ‘Axl’ for their middle names!” Eddie retorted, indignantly as Cassie snuggled her face into his side. He rested a hand on her head, in absentminded comfort. “We compromised!”

Richie didn’t even glance at his common-law husband, reaching out to settle a hand on the tummies of each baby boy, feeling them breathe in and out.

Alex was still, staring at his father with an expression so serious it made Richie chuckle. Alex always looked so stern and it was hilarious on his chubby, cherub face. Aaron, on the other hand, was squirming at times. He was, without a doubt, their most restless baby. If he was awake, he was moving.

“Hi, guys,” He muttered, trace the lines of their features with his eyes. They were still so little but growing so fast, he worried about what he’d missed in just a week away from them. But both Alex and Aaron looked just like he remembered, their little faces etched into his brain right alongside their sister’s and other father’s.

“I missed you so much.”

Finally, he looked up at Eddie and they shared exhausted but content smiles. Richie was reminded in that moment that he would have none of this without the man in front of him. Eddie made him a man capable of being a father, a pretty damn good one too… Most days.

“And I love you,” Richie mused, not removing his eyes from Eddie, even though he knew he wasn’t just speaking to him. He was telling Cassie and Alex and Aaron, too. He loved them, he loved them, he loved them.

And Eddie knew, too, because he always did.

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lethimrunsonia · 4 years ago

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I was tagged by @blueeyedrichie and @ull-float-too thank you all so much! <3333 I love you both!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favourite opening line. Then tag some of your favourite authors

all of these except like one or two are rated explicit btw, These are in tandem with @kitchen-witch-bitch and I gave up and didn’t do 20 LMAO I did 11 and got bored I’m sorry

Reddie First Time/ Part of AU / reddie

Richie pulled the moving van full of not only his and Eddie's things, but also Ben and Bev's, into the parking spot of a moderately nice hotel in Boston. It was cold, and even with the heater on, Richie was shivering a bit. Eddie let out a tiny snore and Richie melted, staring at his boyfriend's eyelashes and dimples. They were halfway to New York City, halfway to a new life where they'd never have to hide again.

untitled/ Part of AU / bevchie

Richie definitely had a Bev meter, and it had many gadgets and charts, so he knew what Bev needed when she needed it.

She had been snippy with everyone, and Eddie had offered that everyone should just leave her be. Maybe if she has said she needed to be alone, he’d agree. But Bev had instead just been atrociously grumpy.

untitled/ Part of AU / Reddbrough (Richie/Eddie/Bill)

“You little brat,” Eddie shouted, skidding across the wooden floor and dashing after Bill, who, Richie thought morosely, was doomed because Eddie was muscular and still liked to run and Bill liked to punch the punching bag in the garage. He lazily followed his boys into their room where Bill was on one side of the mattress, and Eddie cornered him on the other. “You little shit, I’m gonna—“

“What, tickle me? Kiss me?” Bill shouted, obviously delighted and jumpy.

untitled/ Part of AU / stenbrough

Bill didn't bother with bringing in his suitcases--the bags from his two week trip could wait until he wasn't so tired he was ready to fall over, or so hungry his tummy was growling like a fucking bear. He grabbed his backpack (couldn't just leave his laptop in the car, could he?) and took the steps two at a time until he was inside, shoving his backpack in his cubby and making a beeline for Stan.

Warmth / Part of AU / steddie

Eddie couldn't believe his luck. He was home at the same time Stan was, at a decent hour, when they were both wide awake and happy. They'd spent the evening together making dinner and desserts (Eddie may or may not have gotten flour on Stan's nose on purpose, but come on, Stan was just so precious and Eddie wanted to see it, okay?) and now they were settled on the couch, with Eddie curled up on Stan's lap as they watched cute animal videos on the discovery channel.

untitled / Part of AU / trashstack

Ben was normally very good at waiting for opportunities to strike and then seizing them. Rarely did he force situations to occur. But he had a mighty need. He was about to force a...situation. Ben knew that the first thing Richie would want to do when he got home from his meeting was plop into bed, and Ben, he guessed, would allow that. But it would be his bed. Stan had been more than willing to spend the night with Bill and Eddie, who had been delighted to welcome him into their giant bed that Ben was only slightly jealous of.

untitled / Part of AU / kaspbrough

Eddie stared at question 47 until he was sure there was a mistake because the answer he was supposed to get for this math homework was just...not happening. He heard Bill rustle around the doorway, and when Eddie perked up and looked at him, he saw him get shy and start to shift away. “Oh, don’t go, pretty Billy.” He cooed after him, pushing his chair back roughly, only vaguely wincing at the screech of the wood. “You came to visit me? Say hello?”

untitled fic / Part of AU / stanscom

He had no idea what time it was when he started to pull out another big sheet of paper for a new project because, well, he was on a roll, may as well. A gentle throat clearing startled him, causing him to spin around from his spot at his and Stan’s shared desk that sat in front of the window in their room.

"Oh, hey baby," he said, giving Stan a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I didn't know you were home. Come here?"

Stan’s eyebrow raised towards the ceiling. “Hey baby, you missed dinner,” he said, looking partially worried and partly soft. “Finally felt a little better, birdie?” He glanced at the paper in his boyfriend’s hands and clicked his tongue in disagreement. “Honey...you’ve done more than enough today,” he tried coming up to Ben and saddling up next to him.

untitled / Part of AU/ stozier

Stan stomped up the stairs and down the hallway, about ready to either jump Richie's bones or throttle him for introducing Bill to this, without telling Stan he wanted it. He threw open Richie's door and slammed it shut behind him, locking it before turning around and crossing his arms.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Were the first words out of Stan's mouth, quickly followed by, "Bill told me! Bill! And you didn't!"

untitled / Part of AU / hanbrough

Bill wandered into the living room, rubbing at his eyes. He had been in front of the computer for hours, and when he was finally so hungry he could no longer stand it, he decided to hunt for something to eat. He waved at Mike and was going to go into the kitchen, but something stopped him. Mike didn't look okay. Bill frowned and changed direction, padding over to Mike and plopping into his lap. "What's the matter, Mikey?"

Six Different Ways / complete / Poly!Losers

Queen Bee: Hi loves

Queen Bee: I'm most definitely not ordering hair dye online to quarantine dye my hair

Queen Bee: January Embers? Yall ain't met her

untitled / Part of AU / Marshalon (Mike and Bev)

Beverly, as it turned out, really liked topping. And Eddie had told her something very interesting after she pegged him for the first time--dropped a hint that Mike might like this, too.

So when Mike came home with a look on his face that very obviously gave away the bad day he had, she decided now was as good a time as any.

"Hey, baby." She said softly as he plopped onto the couch next to her. She moved so she was in his lap, straddling him. "You okay?" She asked, giving him a sweet kiss hello.

i’ll tag: anyone else feel free to do this and say i tagged you!!! <3

#kels speakeasy

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madcaprainbow · 4 years ago

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I’m fully prepared for Byler to not be canon

I’m a jaded, cynical, often-depressed miserable arsehole. I know that 99 times out of 100 the ship I latch onto will not be canon, and another ship involving one of the characters will be made totally canon and made totally endgame.

I’m not about to sit here and pretend that there’s really any realistic chance that this is all a big long game by the Duffers to suddenly spring canon Byler on us all and blow our minds in some way.

Mileven is most likely going to be endgame.

I’ve made me peace with that.

I still hold out hope for canonically-gay Will, but I have basically no hope for Byler to be canon.

I’ve been through this before. This isn’t my first shipping obsession and it won’t be my last. This always happens because I’m always desperate for way more mainstream media representation than gay relationships currently get.

But I’m not about to just stop shipping Byler.

The canon of a show has never influenced my shipping. Ever.

I still ship Stenbrough. I still ship Newtmas. And I always will.

Do I think if Byler isn’t endgame that I’ve been queer-baited? No. Because I always have and always will read gay subtext into bloody everything because it’s just how my brain is wired; I’m wired to constantly assume homosexuality in anything with even a hint of potential ambiguity to it.

No matter what the canonical endgame of Stranger Things ends up being, when it comes to my fanfiction and the fanfiction I enjoy, Will and Mike will always be in love. They’ll always be going crazy together.

And I’ll always be totally here for it.

#Byler #byeler #will x mike #mike x will #will byers x mike wheeler #mike wheeler x will byers #gay will byers

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secretleeblogging · 5 years ago

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The Tickle Monster is Ticklish

Word count: 1,047

Fandom: IT

Ship: Hinted Reddie, Hinted Stenbrough

A/N: Thank you to @coolcactidude for this prompt! I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~

The clubhouse had cleared out by three members now, leaving only Richie, Eddie, Stan and Bill together.

Richie sat sat crosslegged with a comic open in his hands, tongue poking between his teeth in concentration. Behind him, sat Eddie, reading over Richie’s shoulder, resting his head in the crook of his neck. It was Stan’s turn in the hammock, so that’s where he resided, holding his bird book above his head as he read through the pages, taking in every intricate detail about the common redpoll.

And bill - to put it simply - was bored. Even with Richie around, the room was unnaturally quiet, and he had nothing to do. No books, no games, not even his Walkman. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Careful not to make a sound, he snuck up behind Eddie, before tasing both of his sides from behind with a grin. This resulted in a shriek from the shorter of the two, before he burst into shrilly and frantic laughter, pushing Bill’s hands away.

The sudden loud noise caused the other two both to jump, and Richie to raise a hand to his ear on the side of which Eddie had been resting his head. “Blimey, old chap! You’ll deafen is all if ya keep that up!” Richie told Eddie in a terrible british accent, which leant more towards Australian than it did british.

Bill stopped after a few moments, not wanting to push the asthmatics boundaries and cause him to have an Asthma attack.

Eddie, completely embarrassed, sat up, rubbing at his sides where the sensation had just been. His cheeks were flushed red and he quickly shuffled back over to Richie, looking down. And Richie couldn’t get enough of how adorable Eddie looked like that.

“Say, I don’t think any of us have ever gotten revenge on old Billy boy for all the times he’s tickled us lot..” Richie smirked, eyes now drawn completely away from his comic book and resting on Bill’s.

“That’s because we all fear what he’ll do to us when we’re done...” Eddie mumbled.

“Not if you get his lower ribs,” Stan stated completely calmly from the hammock, not a waver in his voice.

Richie’s eyes lit up with a mischievous glint. “Is that so~?” His voice was menacing and teasing, holding almost a tone of threat.

Bill’s cheeks were now an even darker shade of red than Eddie’s. “S-s-s-stan! You swore you’d keep that s-secret!” He hissed at the curly haired boy, who seemed completely unfazed by Bill’s whining.

“Aha! So it is true!” Richie grinned, turning his body completely around to face Bill, now backing him into the corner. Eddie followed right at his side, a smirk even more evil than Richie’s, which was definitely something to fear.

“N-n-no!” Bill attempted to protest, though he was already grinning and anticipation giggles were pouring from his lips.

“Y-y-yes!” Richie mocked, before launching forward and in one swift motion, tackled him into a lying position. Eddie moves just as fast as Richie, grabbing Bill’s flailing arms and pinning them down to the floor, above his head.

Bill barely even had a chance to try and talk his way out of it; Richie was already digging his fingers into the stuttering boy’s ribs.

A shriek, even higher and louder than Eddie’s had been just less than five minutes ago, sounded in the air, followed by fits of hysterical giggles.

The losers had heard Bill laugh before, but never like this. His laughter was hoarse, like his voice were about to crack, and it had an almost childlike quality to it.

“Ahhh! So the tickle monster is ticklish, Hmm~?” Richie teased, but was only met with more laughter.

He wriggled and squirmed under Richie’s evil touch, letting out the occasional squeal when Eddie felt brave and strong enough to flutter his fingers under his arms.

The tickling on his ribs soon moved further down to his sides, where Bill’s giggles died down, giving him a chance to catch his breath a little.

“If you’re looking to make him scream, try his knees,” Stan remarked in that same, flat tone.

Bill’s eyes widened. “Fuhuck y-y-yohohou Stan- aaAHAHAHAHA-!”

Stan’s brain was on autopilot. “Not right now, dear-“ he responded, before his eyes went wide and it was his turn for his cheeks to tint pink. A hand slapped over his mouth as if it would help the words that had just left his lips be silenced. Lucky for him, they weren’t silenced by his hands, but drowned out by Bill’s hysterical laughter as Richie squeezed at the flesh just above his knees.

“BAAAAAHAHA! R-R-RUH-R-AAAHAHAHA!” His stutter grew too heavy to speak and his loud laughter interrupted his sentence. He wasn’t even really sure what he was going to say, but all his mind was screaming at him was that this sensation was unbearable.

Bill’s laughter grew silent after a little too long, and Richie took this as his queue to stop. Eddie followed suit, releasing Bill’s pinned arms.

Instantly, Bill curled up on himself, residual giggles pouring from his lips and hair falling in his face.

Then, silence again.

Until...

“Hic!”

Heads turned to Bill again, and there was another pause.

“Hic!”

Bill had caught the hiccups from laughing too hard.

All three of the other’s cooed at how cute it was, only causing Bill’s cheeks to turn an impossible shade of pink. “Sh-sh-sh-shut up! Hic!”

“You’re just too cute, big Bill,” Richie grinned, messing up his hair before standing and sitting back where he had before, picking up his comic. But before he continued reading, he had to ask a burning question.

“Hey Stan?” Richie asked.

“Mm?”

“How did you know all of Bill’s weak spots?” He asked.

“That’s not all of them. His tummy and neck are super sensitive to raspberries,” Stan stated plainly again, not even looking away from his book.

“Noted,” Richie grinned, eyes darting briefly over to the flustered boy still curled up in the corner, catching his breath. Then he looked back to stan. “But, how do you know that?”

There was the slightest pause.

“Private tickle fights,” Stan responded. And for the first time Richie had seen that evening, a flicker of a smile flashed over the Jew’s face. Just for a moment.

#tickle #tickle fic #tickles #it #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #stan uris #bill denbrough #stenborough #reddie #lee!bill #ticklish!bill #ler!richie #ler!eddie

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do-do-dodo-do-dodo-dodo · 5 years ago

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Bill/Stenbrough HC #1

(With a hint of Bichie)

So, I started rambling in the tags about this, but I have a hc that Bill Denbrough is bad at math. Idk why, but I do.

But like, Stan and Richie have to help him with homework and stuff.

And Stan gets so fuckin stressed. Like he basically cheers when Bill actually understands a question.

Or, he understands it at first when the teacher is explaining.

But the more they develop different versions of a type of question, Bill just gets lost.

Bill isn't stupid, I think he'd generally be good at school.

But nearly everyone at least has that one class, where they want to slam their head into the desk. And for Bill, that's math.

Also, since technically you need maths for physics, he's struggle with that as well. Like, he'd manage with some aspects when it comes to things about the eyes and reflections or just anything like that. (I didn't do physics except for when it was mandatory that one year).

But you put numbers infront of him, he'll turn to Stan, because Stan would definitely take fuckin physics.

And Stan would fucking sigh. He'd need a short moment to internally swear at Bill. Then he'd roll his eyes and ask Bill what part he's stuck on.

But yeah, Bill can't do Maths and Stan definitely gets left with helping him.

Because Bill knows how smart he is, I mean Stan becomes an accountant or something along the lines of that.

Also, Richie, even though he loves Bill, can't pay attention when he's helping him. Which then distracts Bill and they end up rambling about comics for two hours.

So, Bill's no longer allowed to ask Richie for help unless Stan's busy. Stan made that rule.

#Stenbrough #stanbrough #stenbrough headcanons #stenbrough hcs #bichie hc #bill denbrough headcanons #bill denbrough #stan uris #stanley uris #richie tozier

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care-bear13 · 5 years ago

Note

smut prompts: 2 or 53 (or both) with stenbrough if you please?? AND GOODNIGHT

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” and “I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me so badly.” with stenbrough. Enjoy :)

NSFW under the cut!

Stan watches Bill chew on his pencil, watches his teeth come down again on the already bitten wood. He’s been chewing it the entire time Stan has been at Bill’s house, in Bill’s room, on Bill’s bed. It’s gross, Stan first thinks because Bill uses that pencil with his hand and then puts it in his mouth and then uses it again. But, he then starts to focus on Bill’s mouth instead of the pencil itself, and that leads down a distracting path. Which is unfortunate, considering he’s supposed to be helping Bill with his math homework. He barely registers the question when Bill asks, “D-did I do this right?”. He points to a problem on the page, and Stan pulls himself out of his thoughts to scan his work. “Yeah, that’s correct. You’re learning.” Stan smiles lightly, and turns to see Bill looking intently at his lips, like he can’t turn away. And Stan can’t help it. He lets them part slightly, and waits for Bill to kiss him, to do anything. But, like he always does, he, in fact, doesn’t. Bill turns back to his notebook, his face visibly redder than before. Stan bites the inside of his cheek, eyes still on the side of Bill’s face, hoping he’ll turn back. They’ve been dancing around this for awhile, the catching one staring at the other, the lingering glances, how Bill asks him to study when they all know that Richie is a real math wizard, how Stan will sit a little closer than necessary during these study sessions, all that shit. Stan doesn’t understand why Bill hasn’t just taken the hint yet, and honestly, he’s fucking tired of it. He releases the inside of his cheek, more than determined. “Bill.” Bill hums in response, tapping his pencil on his notebook, instead of chewing on it. “Bill.” Bill finally turns to him, his brow furrowed. Here goes nothing. “Why do you keep doing this?” Bill shakes his head, confused. “I th-thought you s-said this was r-right...” He points to a problem on the page, obviously still not getting the hint. Stan slams his hand down on the page, covering the pencil marks. “Not the math, Bill. I mean, why won’t you just kiss me?” Bill sputters, and Stan rolls his eyes. “We’ve been dancing around this for months. Why haven’t you done anything?” “B-because... b-because w-we’re f-friends!” “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.” Bill looks down at his hands, now folded in his lap. “I thought... I th-thought it was j-just me, and I d-didn’t want to m-make you uncomfortable-“ Stan can’t take it anymore. He surges forward, grabbing Bill’s face in his hands, and kisses him with everything he has. Bill seems frozen for a second, like he can comprehend what the fuck is happening. But then, Stan feels his lips responding. With fervor. Yes, they’re soft, just like Stan always thought they’d be, but they move firmly against his own, and Stan just melts. He feels Bill’s hands grip his waist, and he climbs into Bill’s lap, wanting to be closer. Bill slides his hands up and down his sides, tracing each rib with his thumb, and Stan shivers against him. Bill pulls back, licking his lips. “S-so, you like m-me too?” “No, we’re just friends.” Stan deadpans. Bill doesn’t seem to register the sarcasm at first, and his eyes go wide. “Yes, I like you. Why do you think I stared at you all the time?” “I d-didn’t-“ “You saw me. There’s no way you didn’t see me.” Bill just stares at him. Stan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It doesn’t matter now. Just-“ But this time, Bill kisses him. And it’s so much better. The way that Bill leads Stan’s lips with his own, the way Bill leans into Stan while pulling him closer by the hips. And then Bill uses his tongue and Stan is gone, he's done for. He moves his hands around Bill’s jaw, into his hair. He scratches at the little ones on the nape of Bill’s neck, and Bill groans softly. Stan smiles into the kiss. “You like that?” Bill grips at Stan harder, grinding their hips together, and Stan lets out a soft moan. “Yes.” Stan shivers again at the look in Bill’s eyes, the way that they’re so intensely dilated that he can’t see any blue color at all. He suppresses a whine in the back of his throat. Bill keeps kissing him. Keeps kissing his lips, and then moves to his neck, unbuttoning the buttons in his collared shirt so he can reach Stan’s shoulders and collar bone, too. And, Jesus, after months of waiting and build up, Stan is sick of wasting any more time. So he pushes Bill onto his back. Bill looks up at him, and Stan can tell he’s just as turned on as he is, so he pulls at the hem of his shirt and throws it over his head. He leans down, letting his hands trace Bill’s chest. “I’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly, Bill.” Stan grinds his hips, biting his lip, and Bill’s hands pull him harder against him, like he can’t help himself. It feels good. “Shit.” Bill sits up and they remove the rest of their clothes, throwing them on the floor to join the math textbook and Bill’s notebook. Once they’re naked, Stan settles back in Bill’s lap. Bill mouths at his collar bone, moving down to caress his nipple with his tongue. Stan grips his hair again, letting out another moan. “You’re so g-gorgeous.” Bill’s hands travel lightly down his sides, and Stan swallows thickly. “I w-wanna fuck you so b-bad.” Stan can’t conceal his whimper. “Please.” And does he ever. Prepping doesn’t take long, Stan does it to himself a lot, while he may or may not think about Bill. It doesn’t matter, though. What does matter is Stan is laying in his back and Bill is situated on top of him, one hand near Stan’s head, holding himself up, and the other holding Stan’s hip as Bill drives his cock into him. Bill’s hips moved slow at first, not wanting to cause Stan any pain. But Stan just told him to go faster, to fuck him, and Bill couldn’t argue with that. They’ve been at it for so long that sweat is making the sheets stick to Stan’s back, but he doesn’t even care about the sweat. He just wants Bill to fuck him even harder and faster. At a particularly hard thrust, Stan lets his head fall back, moaning lowly, and Bill responds by keeping his thrusts like that. “Bill.” Bill’s eyes screw shut, like if he looks at Stan, he’ll come right then and there. Stan grips his shoulders, then his neck and face. And then Bill does open his eyes. It’s almost too much. “Bill, ple-“ Stan cuts himself off with high moan from Bill hitting that spot inside him. He feels Bill’s lips on his neck. “F-fuck.” Bill groans lowly against his throat. It makes Stan shiver. “Make me come, Bill.” Stan pants into his ear. “Touch me, make me come. Please.” Bill’s lips detach from Stan’s neck, with a parting bite. “I’m g-gonna make you come.” Stan whines as Bill’s hand finally closes around his cock, stroking as fast as his thrusts. “I’ll make you come.” Stan wants to respond with anything other than ‘uh, uh, uh’ but he can’t. He can’t form any words in his brain right now because he feels his orgasm approaching extremely fast and hot inside him. And when it does arrive, a long, low sound leaves Stan’s throat, one he had no chance of stopping. His nails dig into Bill’s shoulders and his hips stutter because Bill doesn’t slow down and it feels good. Until, Bill’s hips do suddenly stop, and grind into him hard as Bill comes, too. Stan keeps his arms around Bill’s neck, brushing his fingers on Bill’s warm skin. He thinks he could even fall asleep, before Bill speaks. “I r-really thought it w-was just me.” God, Stan thinks, why did Bill have to be so dumb sometimes. But he smiles to himself, placing a kiss on Bill’s ear. “It definitely wasn’t.”

#bill denbrough #stanley uris #stenbrough #smut prompts

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uristruly · 5 years ago

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soft angst stenbrough bc we need more of it and im tired of stan only ever being mentioned for reddie and thirdwheeling. he is his own person and he deserves love and attention

trigger warnings; mentions of scars, hints of anxiety attacks, and depression.

- billy kissing his stan's healed scars, his wrists up to his neck up to his forehead from the attack way back

- stan hiding behind his billy when they're ordering at starbucks and billy ordering for him

- billy buying his stan ice cream whenever he faces (even the tiniest) fear like ordering for himself

- stan tearing up in public but his billy ruffling his curls making him laugh and distracting him

- billy phoning instead of his stan and letting him take over whenever he is ready

- stan stays in bed all day at times and his billy moves the tv in the room so the two can watch national geography docs all day without speaking

- billy understands the pain his stan is going through and never pushes him

- "i feel safe with you"

- "you are safe with me"

#stenbrough #it #stanley uris #bill denbrough #i love them

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writhingcreature · 5 years ago

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Prompt 8 - Stenbrough

“I don’t know if you are still doing drabbles or not, but can you do one with stenbrough? Maybe one using the quote “With you, I am safe?” Please? I’m in the mood for softness.” - @a-false-king

Stan was really chill, for the most part. He liked the quiet and the stillness. Or, the slow, lowkey things about the world that often went unnoticed. He liked sitting outside on a sunny day with eyes closed, listening to the very distant sound of traffic and feeling the breeze and light on his skin. He basked in it, far away from chaos and therefore safe from danger.

Life was kind of terrifying for Stan. He was a gut driven man, often leaning towards things that felt good and taking off at full speed away from things that even remotely made him feel uncomfortable. He liked things neat and in order. He liked them to make sense. He liked making people happy and doing what he was supposed to.

Bill was kind of a mess. He wasn’t as bad as Richie, but when Richie needed a midnight friend to go and create havoc with, it was always Bill he called. He liked having fun and going out and driving a little faster than he should. He liked 2am ice cream and thriller movies and horror novels and drama plays that had lots of fighting and ridiculousness in it. He liked getting into trouble, and that never went away- even when he got older.

Things still scared Bill, but he was the kind of man that usually ignored those feelings in favor of doing what was right, or doing what he wanted to do. On top of that, not only was he good at getting into trouble, he was good at dragging people along with him. Usually, Richie would drag him and sometimes Bev, and Bill would be left with the job of getting those of the Losers who were hesitant.

Even after years of eventually winning over each and every one of the Losers, Stan remained stubborn. It was a fight every time. A promise. A swear. A guarantee. Every time it Stan who hesitated each time, ending up enjoying it the most when it was all over. It was Stan who got them out of trouble, talking or reasoning their way out of getting caught like he was mind controlling them. And every time, it was always only ever Bill who could get him to agree to come along.

As they got older, they got into less pranks and sneaking out became less for the Losers and much more often just the two of them. Bill was talking Stan into dates rather than early morning mischief. They were falling asleep at each other’s houses and holding hands under the table and kissing int he back of the movie theater and flirting with each other when they were sure no one could hear. Soon, it was less “let’s go get food” and more “let’s go make out”.

Suddenly Bill and Stan were in a full fledged secret relationship and Stan was utterly terrified every second of it. On top of the sneaking around, Bill was very obvious and endlessly insatiable. He always wanted to stay a little bit longer. He always wanted one more kiss. Five more minutes cuddling. He flirted with Stan in public for pete’s sake! Thank god for Stan’s cleverness, otherwise everyone would have found out a long time ago.

Two boys being together? In Derry, Maine? I think not.

Yet here Stan and Bill were. Being very much together and most definitely falling in love.

They never did tell the others about them, though their friends weren’t stupid and seemed to know. It was just that no one ever said anything about it. When Stan got into a more serious business, after college, he invited Bill to go with him. To leave Derry. Bill, who fancied being a writer, was all too eager.

Bill was a little dangerous. A little wild. A little crazy. Despite everything, he never lost his touch of youth and drive for excitement. He never fully grew up, cracking jokes and rolling his eyes and winking and teasing and flirting like they were still sixteen and not-so-secretly crushing on each other.

Stan was still terrified. Life still scared him. He still had a tendency to hide behind Bill when people got a little nasty or too curious or Bill was being a tad too obvious. He still had nightmares that woke him up or kept him from sleeping all together. He still jumped when people even said the word gay or looked between Bill and Stan with That Look that hinted at them maybe knowing everything.

At the end of the day though, Bill was there to soothe him. No matter how scared he was. How unsure he was. Bill understood his fear. Hell, Bill was no less afraid than Stan was. Bill understood the clown that haunted his nightmares, and the people that haunted him every waking second of life in general as they hesitated to hold hands in public despite how much Bill wanted to kiss Stan, no matter who was around.

Bill never judged him or teased him. And Bill wasn’t afraid of everything. He was strong and unbreakable, easy to lean on and never hesitant to support Stan if Stan so needed it.

Then they got the call. The phone rang and Bill picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hey Bill. It’s Mike Hanlon.”

Bill’s eyebrows came together. “Who?”

“From Derry.” Bill was quiet. “Look Bill. Uh, IT’s back.”

The phone dropped. “Bill?” Stan called from the other room. There was no response. He shot up and to where Bill was, instantly a lot more nervous upon seeing Bill’s blank eyes and pale face. “Bill what’s wrong?” He heard a distant voice and looked down, eyes landing on the phone. He picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hi. This is Mike. Hanlon. Uh, is Bill there?”

“This is his-” he cut off then set his face. “This is his husband.” They’d been working on being more open about that one. Debated on it for a long time. It had gotten easier, especially as people got more and more accepting. Today, it wasn’t too big of a deal. Nothing compared to what it was when they were kids. It was even legal now. They’d gotten married a few months ago, after being together for the last thirty years or so. Give or take. Having shame about it now was just dumb.

The man on the other line was quiet for a second. Maybe a little surprised. “Uh, Stan?”

Stan froze. How did this man know who he was? “I’m sorry, who did you say you were again?”

The man sighed. “Mike Hanlon.” He seemed irritated. “Derry, Stan. I know it’s hard, but you have to remember. IT’s back. We promised, back then. You have to come back. We have to defeat it this time. For real.”

Stan’s brain was having a hard time connecting the pieces of a puzzle he didn’t know he was trying to solve. “It? What is...” And then it clicked. He felt his whole body go numb. His brain went fuzzy. His heart seemed to be beating so fast it couldn’t be felt at all. Or maybe it had just stopped beating.

No. Not this. Anything but this.

“Stan?”

“Yes.” Stan was in full business mode, surprising himself with how calm he sounded. “When should I come?”

“Immediately,” Mike answered, seeming relieved. Maybe he’d had a rough time with the others too. Others? What others? Stan’s brain was having a hard time thinking through the utter panic consuming. He looked to Bill for comfort and was even more horrified to realize this is why Bill was currently bent over, hands on the table in front of him and head dangling limply between his shoulders. Stan wouldn’t be able to look for safety this time.

“Okay. I’ll be there soon.”

“Perfect.” Then he gave Stan some information about some restaurant. An address, time, and date. “See you there?”

“For sure.” Stan hung up, a little piece of paper with all the information on it in his hand. He looked at the paper. Then he placed the phone down very calmly, the piece of paper next to it. Bill might go.

Stan wouldn’t.

But it was Bill. Surely he’d find a way to talk Stan into going. Bill always did. What if Bill couldn’t talk him into it? What if he couldn’t be talked into doing... anything?

“I’m going to take a bath.” He looked at Bill, but the blonde man was still panicking.

Bill did look up just as Stan was about to settle for no response. “Y-yeah. That’s f...” He blinked, both of them becoming pale. Bill hadn’t stuttered in a very, very long time. Probably about ten years. Give o take. “That’s f-fine,” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Stan went to the bathroom, getting undressed as the tub filled up with water. He climbed in, letting the warm water soothe the guilt that came with his decision. Just a little. He closed his eyes for a second, taking an even breath before opening them again. “I’m sorry, Bill.” The light reflected off of something in his hand. He moved the shiny thing toward his other wrist...

Bill suddenly got a terrible feeling in his gut. He’d been remembering a small boy with a red balloon and a yellow jacket. A little boy that used to mean everything to him. Someone he’d taken for granted before he’d lost him, and with him, nearly everything else. He was so trapped in those memories, he hadn’t even thought of Stan. Everything else had been too overwhelming.

Stanley never took baths. He always took showers.

Bill was running before he could even form another coherent thought. The door flung open and Stan jumped, splashing water on the floor causing him to grip the thing he was holding a little tighter. They locked eyes.

Instantly Stan started crying. Bill tripped closer, reaching over to turn the faucet off before scooping Stan into his arms, pulling them closer despite the water and how it soaked Bill, who was fully dressed. “I’ sorry, Bill,” Stan sobbed, shaking in his arms.

“I-it’s okay,” Bill stuttered weakly, trying not to think about what would have happened if he’d been even a second later. He failed. He thought about that thing, hovering just over the skin of Stan’s wrist. He thought about what this room would have looked like covered in Stan’s blood. “P-please d-d-d-” he cut off, gasping. “I can’t lo-I can’t- you can’t-” He blinked, trying to calm down. “You have to go with me. I c- I can’t lose you too. P-pl-pluh-” He grunted softly. “Please Sta- Stan.”

“I swear, Bill.” As always, Bill could talk Stan into anything.

Even staying alive.

Later, as they were packing, Stan came over and touched Bill on the shoulder. The blonde man looked over, still frowning. Eyes haunted. Stan wondered if his eyes looked the same. “I’m sorry Bill. I... I can’t imagine how it would have been for you, finding me... like that. On top of everything.”

Bill shook his head. “I d-don’t blame you.” He coughed, looking away as his eyes glazed over with tears.

For the first time, Stan pulled Bill into his arms. Bill buried his face in Stan’s chest. He hid behind Stan for the first time in their relationship. Stan had to be the one to comfort. He’d calmed down a lot. Seeing Bill had cleared his mind a little. Thinking about the consequences to his actions had made him think a little more. He was still terrified. He wasn’t shaking anymore, but he’d faced plenty of scary things. He cold handle anything with Bill by his side.

Unfortunately, Bill hadn’t reached the same conclusion. He was finally facing a fear that had toppled him completely over, and he couldn’t pull himself back up. He was beginning to worry no one could. “You know, wuh-once you asked me how nothing scared me. How I was so untouched by what people thought a-about-about us.” Bill clung to Stan. “Th-That wasn’t true, Stan. S...So much scares me. When I send a book in to a p-p-publisher. When I’m starting a new muh-movie and I’m not sure how the actors will be or h...how it’s all going to work when it comes to uh-applying the script. When someone new finds out I’m married to a muh-man.” He shook his head and Stan rubbed his back, letting him talk. Being patient through the stuttering. “Before I... always felt like nothing could touch me when I was with you, Stan.” He finally managed to not stutter, relaxing him a little more. “With you, I felt safe.” His face contorted. “I-I’m sorry I couldn’t do the same with you.”

Stan felt like he’d been slapped. He leaned close to Bill, making sure his husband could hear him. “You are enough, Bill. That was never the problem. I was an idiot to think that nothing scared you. That nothing bothered you. And it makes me so happy to know that I can help you handle this, in any way. I just...” His eyes watered as well and his grip on Bill tightened. “I’m such a coward.”

Bill sighed, then sniffed. “Let’s be cowards together, huh? Please?”

Stan smiled. “Yeah okay. This time I really do promise.”

“Forever?” Bill whispered.

“Absolutely,” Stan agreed. And suddenly he was a lot more at ease. Because he and Bill had something none of the others did. He had someone who would be by his side as long as he was allowed to be. Someone who not only loved him but understood him. Stan didn’t have to make up some lame excuse to go to Derry to Bill, because Bill would be right there with him.

And damn it all, Stan would make sure he really would always be able to, because Bill made him feel safe too. From then on, they’d have each other’s backs. IT or no.

#william denbrough #bill denbrough #stanley uris #stan uris #stan x bill #stan uris x bill denbrough #losers club #it #stephen king #stenbrough

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ddproductionsw77 · 7 years ago

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Four Kisses

Fandom: IT (2017)

Pairing(s): Stenbrough, Billverly (it happens but, like, just trust me on this guys, okay?), Hints of Reddie and hints of Benverly

Characters: Stan Uris, Bill Denbrough, Beverly Marsh, Ben Hanscom, Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak, and Richie Tozier

Rating: T

Description: A story of four different kisses between four different people that ends with two boys being a little scared and a lot in love (Aged-Up to High School)

Author’s Note: Because Stenbrough deserves more love and I love my boys so much <3

The First Kiss (That started it all…)

It had begun, like so many things, in the summer of ’89.

Bill and Stanley had always been best friends.

Bill understood him better than most, listening to him and reasoning with him when he had to. There were times were Stan felt like a neon display board before Bill, like the other boy could read every thought in his frantic, nervous brain. There were times where they would look at each other and not have to utter a single word to know what the other was thinking.

Stan cherished those times.

And Bill would just do things… things he really didn’t need to just because he wanted to. Over time, Stan had come to understand it was just a fundamental part of Bill that he would do anything for a fellow Loser. Still, he found himself a little awestruck by it from time to time.

It was in the summer of ’89, though, that they met Beverly Anne Marsh.

Stan saw the way Bill watched her.

He saw how the other boy’s jaw would slacken and his mouth would fall open a bit like Beverly was a masterpiece to behold. He saw the way the pair would inch toward each other, would brush the backs of their hands together, would blush and smile at each other like they had some little secret. And for a long time, Stan didn’t understand why Bill and Bev’s interactions lingered in his brain. He couldn’t explain the way his gut twisted when Bill would glance at him only to slip his gaze back to Bev.

He didn’t really want to think about it too much. It felt... dangerous to dwell on.

Yeah, it started in the summer, just a week after Beverly had moved away from Derry and right before they’d start their last year of middle school. Bill was still moping around, as was Ben. Mike had to help his grandfather with the farm and Eddie had some appointment for an x-ray on his arm. So, Stan had wordlessly let Richie in when the bespectacled boy had shown up on his stoop, just like he had about a million times before.

Richie made his way noisily through the Uris household. Once he reached Stan’s bedroom, he threw himself down on the other boy’s neatly made bed. Stan remained standing, rigid in his posture by the door.

Richie sat up, groaning and resting a hand against his side, “Son of a bitch.”

Stanley rolled his eyes before wordlessly leaving the room.

He returned a moment later with a glass of water and two capsules of pain reliever. Kicking Richie’s dirty converse with his gleaming shoes, Stan held both out, “Drink up, Trashmouth. It’ll help.”

Richie swallowed the pills after a roll of his eyes, before narrowing his gaze on Stan, “What?”

“What?”

“The fuck you lookin’ at me like that for?”

“Oh, I don’t know because it’s not like you just got your ass handed to you by your mother.” Stan snapped, sarcastically.

Richie’s face broke into an impish grin and he winked, “There he is, Stan the Man, everybody!”

Stan wasn’t a moron, he’d seen the way Richie looked at Eddie — a bit like how Bill looked at Bev. He inspected his orderly fingernails, all the exact same length and filed smooth. His heart pounded in his chest and he began uttering the names of birds under his breath.

Richie’s grin faltered a bit, familiar with the nervous tick, but he managed to keep it in place as he stood up and raised his hands playfully, “No need to have a meltdown over little ole me, Stanley. Breathe.”

“It’s not that,” Stan shook his head, turning away from Richie to begin pacing, “Robin — Sparrow — Crane — it’s something — Swallow — else.”

“O…kay,” Richie hummed, watching his friend wear down the carpet. “Spit it out, Stanny Boy. Can’t be that bad; I already know about you killing Jesus and all that.”

“Beep, beep,” Stan muttered darkly before sighing loudly, “Richie, what- I know you- Can you—“

“Jesus fuck, Stanley!”

“How did you know you liked boys?” Stan finally got out, feeling like he might vomit the moment he managed it. Richie stared at him with a bewildered expression on his face and Stan cleared his throat that felt like it was closing up on him and stopped dead, “I mean, wh-what does it feel like?”

“What does it feel like?” Richie echoed, stunned. “To be into dudes?”

Stan nodded, not meeting the other boy's eyes through his glasses. “That’s what I fucking asked, isn’t it?”

Just like that, the Trashmouth seemed to snap himself out of his shock, his expression curling into his signature smirk of amusement. He rolled his eyes and Stanley contemplated punching him in the throat. Before he could act on this, though, Richie opened his mouth.

“I’m pretty damn sure you know exactly what it’s like, Stan the Man. Or have I just been imagining all the eye fucking you’ve been doing to our poor, innocent Billy Boy?”

Stan was mortified, staring at Richie with wide eyes like a deer caught in headlights.

Holy fuck, was it that obvious?

Richie sighed at Stan’s horrified expression before taking a few slow steps toward the other boy. He raised his hands in mock surrender again and grinned, “Stan, it’s fine. I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who notices. Nobody else really thinks about how a guy looks at another guy…”

“But, but I can’t like Bill,” Stan implored, “I don’t like him.”

Richie looked thoughtful for a moment, chewing his lip before suddenly grabbing Stanley. Before Stan could react, Richie kissed him.

His first kiss…

It was short and quick, nothing like in the movies with fireworks and slow motion. Nothing like how Stan had thought it would be to kiss another boy then again it was Richie and not Bill.

It was always Bill in his head…

When it was over a beat later, Stan began sputtering and Richie cut him off. “Stanley, just listen to me, okay?”

Stan mutely nodded.

Richie sighed and shrugged before continuing, “Did you feel anything?”

Mouth pressed into a tight, white line and fist clenched, Stan shook his head.

“Me neither,” Richie supplied. “All I could think about was E— um, someone else, wishing I was kissing them. You?”

Stan nodded once again.

“Bill?”

Nod.

“Stanny, you got it bad.” Richie stepped away from him, making his way back toward Stan’s bed.

Stan gulped, “I know about Eddie.”

Richie froze, back still to Stan. A second later, his shoulders slumped and he looked back at his friend, “Yeah, well, I got it pretty bad, too.”

So, Stanley was gay.

And he really liked Bill Denbrough.

And he didn’t have a fucking chance.

The Second Kiss (That complicated everything…)

Stanley managed to live with these inevitabilities throughout all eighth grade.

It’d been pretty easy with Bill still be very much missing Beverly Marsh. He’d spend hours telling Stan, Richie, Eddie, Ben, and Mike about what they talked about on the phone when she did manage to call. Stan knew Bev wrote Bill, too, having caught sight of letters tucked into Bill’s notebooks with her handwriting sprawled across them.

It was easy to remember Bill was a hopeless case when he had those constant reminders.

High school was different, though.

Bill hardly ever brought Bev up anymore and when someone — usually Ben — did, he’d just smile and say he missed her before moving along. No more long sighs or forlorn, lovesick looks. Anyone could sense a difference in the dynamic especially Stan, who knew Bill best.

Another change that came with Freshman year was that Stanley found getting his straight As was a bit more difficult. He abhorred English and art most of all because he wasn’t one for interpretation and that seemed to be all those subjects were. He liked the comfort of fact in numbers and equations, like in science and mathematics.

Luckily, Bill had stepped up to help him once his classic literature grade fell to a C-.

The boys would spend hours in the library or in one of their bedrooms, pouring over Shakespeare, Hawthorne, and Tolstoy. Bill loved Jules Verne, H.P. Lovecraft, and H.G. Wells, Stan discovered, and he’d read Frankenstein and Dracula three times each, annotating his own copies to hell.

What Stan loved most of all, though, was when he was really stuck, Bill would read aloud to him. The other boy never once stuttered when uttering the words of long-dead authors and just like that the passage would make sense to Stan. It was good for both of them.

Their almost daily after-school meetings had become the best part of Stan’s routine. Being with Bill and having his full attention for a few hours, that would be enough to pacify him. He’d never have to confront all the swirling confusion in his head over his best friend if he could just keep having those few hours.

The month before spring break, however, everything got fucked up.

It was dark in Bill’s bedroom, the only light coming from the dim lamp on his bedside table and the setting sun outside the windows. Stan laid back across the foot of his best friend’s bed, staring up at the ceiling without seeing it. His mind wandered as Bill sat up with his back to his headboard, reading aloud from a book of Edgar Allen Poe poetry.

“His pleasures always turn’d to pain—

His naivete to wild desire—

His wits to love—his wine to fire,”

Something had changed in Bill’s voice and he grew quiet.

Stan turned his head to look at the other boy, eyebrows drawing together.

His stomach dropped, finding Bill’s bright blue eyes focusing on him intensely as if he’d forgotten the book before him entirely. Electricity buzzed through Stan’s bloodstream and he slowly rose to a sitting position, eyes never leaving Bill’s as the other boy opened his mouth, continuing without even glancing at the words.

“And so, being young and dipt in folly,

I fell in love with melancholy…”

Stan’s eyes flickered to Bill’s lips as the other boy trailed off and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. The air seemed heavy with some raw emotion that Stan couldn’t name for the life of him. His heart pounded in his ears and he leaned forward as if a string was tugging him closer to Bill.

Stan wanted to kiss him. He wanted to kiss Bill Denbrough more in that moment than he’d ever wanted anything in his whole life.

Like he was reading Stan’s mind once again, Bill pushed the book aside and moved forward until his face was inches from Stan’s.

The curly haired boy took in the scent of him, wanting to commit it to memory so that he’d be able to take it out and revel in it later. Bill smelled how Stan imagined all writers must smell; like paper and ink, book and boy. Stanley fell into those piercing blue eyes with his own hooded irises, being pulled under the current of them without a fight.

When Bill spoke it was so quiet that even centimeters apart Stan barely heard him.

“I fell in love with melancholy.”

Then they were kissing.

Stan gripped Bill’s baseball tee like it was the only thing keeping him from floating far, far away and Bill settled in closer, his fingers tracing the bones of Stan’s rib cage as he felt the rise and fall of the other boy’s lungs.

They parted for a second, eyes fluttering open to stare at each other before Bill kissed him again.

Soon, Bill gently pulled Stan on top of him, sprawling them back on the bed. Stan let himself fall onto his elbows and hovered over the other boy. Bill gripped his hips and pulled him down, closer. Without paying any mind to his actions, Stanley slotted his fingers into Bill’s hair and was reminded of the down feathers of birds.

Bill smiled again his lips, moving his hands to his face and kissing him harder. A moment later, his best friend’s tongue was in his mouth and Stan felt lightheaded. Grape chapstick and spearmint toothpaste were what Bill Denbrough tasted like; Stan had always wondered.

Now he knew… Maybe he had died, or maybe he was dreaming because kissing Bill Denbrough could not be his reality.

Stanley Uris was not that lucky.

Bill pulled at Stan’s shirt, untucking it and slipping his hands under the hem. As his cool fingers made contact with Stan’s pale skin, a shock went through the boy’s whole body and brought him crashing back to reality.

He was kissing a boy.

He was kissing Bill.

—and Bill had untucked his shirt! It would get wrinkled! He would go home and his mother would ask why his shirt was wrinkled and he’d have to tell her! She’d see it on his face! That he’d kissed a—

Stan jumped up, shoving Bill back, “No! Stop! I—No!”

He tried to correct his shirt but his hands were shaking too badly and his vision was blurring.

Ohgodohgodohgod!

FuckFuckFuck!

Stan’s head was spinning and he thought he might throw up —what a shame that would be; it’d make all the Bill taste go away. What the hell had just happened? What— what the fuck was he supposed to do?

Bill was on his feet in seconds and striving toward him, “W-wait, Stan, p-p-please—!“

He reached out to gently rest a hand on Stanley’s arm, touching Stanley’s skin again. Yelping as if burned, Stan ran into Bill’s dresser and nearly fell to the ground trying to scramble away.

Bill liked girls—Stan was gay.

Bill could never like him—Stan didn’t have a chance.

Bill looked so hurt—Were those tears in his eyes?

It couldn’t be, this wasn’t happening.

“Stan, I’m s-s-sorry, okay? I juh-juh-juh—“ Bill seemed stuck on the word and Stan longed to stay put and wait patiently for him to get there eventually but he just couldn’t this time. Not when he would still feel Bill’s hands on his back and taste grapes and spearmint in his mouth.

“You shouldn’t have— You can’t— I can’t—“ Stan clawed up his bag from the ground and bit his cheek hard, looking back at Bill once more before he fled the bedroom.

Stan hated himself after that, even more than usual. He went gone to school the next day and expected to be confronted, yelled at, or even punched. He wanted to feel Bill’s anger, like a penance for what he’d done.

He was shit and he deserved to be treated like it.

But, of fucking course, Bill was who he was so none of that happened.

Instead, Bill had greeted him with all the other guys, a smile on his lips. If the smile didn’t reach his eyes, Stan didn’t let himself think about it and he most definitely didn’t comment on it. He didn’t comment either when Bill said he couldn’t tutor him after school that day, or the next, or the next.

Bill didn’t like him. Maybe Bill was curious or maybe he felt bad for Stan, maybe he’d found out how Stan felt. The kiss could have come from a million different things but Bill most definitely didn’t like him.

The Third Kiss (That clarified it all…)

Beverly was coming back to Derry.

Bill couldn’t believe it, honestly. The Losers Club was conditioned to take hits as they came and rarely stumbled into fortune. Beverly coming back, though, that was a fucking miracle.

He’d missed her like crazy. He missed her spirited presence, her easy humor, the way she was always brushing hair off her face and smirking at him like he was the biggest fucking nerd she’d ever met but she still found it endearing. He missed her floral perfume and her mixed wardrobe of dresses, leggings, and overalls always paired with untied work boots that never tripped her.

The first day of spring break, when she’d come strolling up the Denbough’s sidewalk, Bill had thought for a moment that no time had passed at all. Maybe it was still the summer of 1989. Maybe Bev had never left, maybe he’d had never kissed Stan, maybe Stan hadn’t shoved him away, maybe the ache in his chest wasn’t really there.

But, no, that wasn’t how the world worked. Bev coming home didn’t reset the clock.

Beverly ran and hugged Bill first, shrieking in joy as she ran into his waiting arms.

Bill lifted her right off her feet and spun her through the air. Setting her down gently, Bill ignored the feeling of eyes on his back. He didn’t have to look to know it was Stanley watching them; he could feel it in his chest.

Bev was just as excited to see Ben, Richie, Eddie, Mike, and Stan as she had been Bill. Still, the stuttering boy noticed how Ben’s arms lingered around Bev’s waist then they embraced. When the pair finally parted, Bill also noticed the faintest of pinks spread across Beverly’s freckles

Bill thought he should probably feel jealous.

Fuck, how long had he been hung up on Beverly after she moved away? Months? A year? Now she was back and he was so happy to be around her again but not like he’d been back then. His palms didn’t sweat when she stood close anymore and his heart didn’t skip a beat when her blue eyes glanced his way.

No, Bill’s heart raced for someone else these days… not that it mattered.

Stan had hardly spoken to him seen they’d kissed. He didn’t come over anymore and never invited Bill over. Ben or Eddie helped him with his homework nowadays and something in Bill’s chest burned with anger every time he thought about it.

What right did Stanley have to be angry at him? So what? Bill had kissed him, so fucking what? He’d obviously misread everything between him and Stan; he’d thought something was there that obviously wasn’t but did that really deserve the cold shoulder? The total and complete write off?

Fuck Stanley Uris.

Bill didn’t need him, could learn to not long for him, would force himself to move forward. He’d done it once already, after all, over his infatuation with Beverly and he’d do it again over Stan.

Bill could figure this out.

He could.

Things took a turn for the stupid on Bev’s last night in town, however.

Her aunt went a town over to visit a friend, giving her niece permission to stay with one of her friends. Of course, Beverly had asked Bill. The Denbrough house was like Losers Club headquarters; everyone stayed there.

And Bill had said yes because why wouldn’t he? His parents were even out of town for the weekend; he didn’t have to bother with asking their permission if it would be okay.

That night, Beverly grinned at him, swirling her finger over the rim of one of his father’s whiskey glasses.

“Thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, Billy?”

He snorted, resting a hand on her’s to still it, “N-no way, Bev. My Dad would notice, t-trust me.”

Bev pouted, looking downcast at the wooden floors. Bill narrowed his eyes before sighing and taking back the hand on her’s to pinch the bridge of his nose. “B-but, I think I might have su-su-something up i-in my ruh-ruh-room.”

“Your stutter still gets worse when you’re nervous, like when we were kids,” Beverly grinned, “It’s still cute.” She leaned forward to whisper before grasping his hand and leading the way upstairs.

Bill had the good stuff, tequila, one of Beverly’s personal favorites. The bottle started full and within a few hours, it was nearly finished off.

The pair sat on Bill’s floor, laughing at something that sober Bill and Bev would have known was not that funny but drunk Bill and Bev thought was fucking hilarious. The radio played loudly through the room so that both of them had to raise their voices to be heard by the other.

“So,” Bev started with a giggle after taking an impressive gulp of liquor, “You and Stan…?”

Bill grin fell and he suddenly felt the boards of his bed dig into his back as he sprawled his legs out in front of him, “No. Definitely nothing happening there.”

His stutter always faded away when he was drunk enough, he loved it.

Her eyebrows drew together, “Bullshit.”

“It’s not bullshit,” Bill reaffirmed, taking the bottle back for another swig, “He—He’s not—It’s not bullshit. Nothing is going on.”

Beverly fell back, growing quiet with a look of confusion.

The tell-tale strings of ‘Come On, Eileen’ began playing and Bev gasped, jumping to her feet so quickly it was actually quite impressive to behold.

“Oh fuck, I love this song!” She cried, beginning to dance about. Bill watched with an amused curl of his lip, his back to his bed, still on the floor. A second later, Beverly was grabbing at him and dragging him to his feet. “Dance with me!”

Bill set the tequila aside and allowed her to pull him up. She wrapped her arms around his neck, coaxing him into a reluctant sway. He laughed at the ridiculousness of it all before resting his hands on her waist. Within seconds, the pair was dancing dizzily around Bill’s bedroom, stepping on each other’s feet and nearly tripping over his rug.

Spinning Beverly, Bill pulled her back into his chest and grinned down at her face, just inches from his own.

These people round here

Wear beaten-down eyes sunk in smoke-dried faces

They're so resigned to what their fate is

But not us (no, never)

“I don’t want to leave tomorrow,” Beverly mumbled, growing somber as her big blue eyes looked into Bill’s.

His heart sunk and he swallowed, “But you’re moving back in the summer. You’ll be back before you know it.”

“I don’t want to wait till summer. I miss you,” She said with a sigh, “I miss all of you.”

“We miss you, too,” He admitted, “Saying goodbye is gunna suck.”

Beverly nodded, glancing back with a slight blush before she looked up with a playful smiling, “Remember saying goodbye last time?”

Bill mind flashed to a summertime breeze, the scent of blood in the air, and Beverly’s lips on his. He’d been so swept up in her back then. Her heart, her mind, her everything was just so beautiful… still was.

“Yeah, I remember.”

Beverly slipped her hands from around his neck to his face, cradling his jaw and running her thumbs over his cheekbones. With a little huff of resignation, she leaned in, pulled him in, and kissed him hard.

Suddenly, Bill felt thirteen again, trying to tell his first crush everything he felt for her in one last goodbye kiss. He wrapped his arms around Beverly, pushing himself flush against her and deepening the searing, tequila flavored kiss.

No, not us (no, never)

We are far too young and clever (remember)

Too-ra-loo-ra, too-ra-loo-rye, aye

And you'll hum this tune forever

With a moan, Beverly pushed her tongue into his mouth and he greedily accepted the invitation. Something in the back of his mind screamed out in protest, reminding him of ironed shirts, pristine Adias, and curly brown hair, but he was too drunk on liquor, Beverly, and music to care.

Walking the girl backward, Bill picked her up when they reach his bed and sat her down on the mattress. Quickly tossing his shirt aside, he slotted himself between her legs and ducked his head to kiss down her neck from the ear to the base. Beverly gripped his hair and moaned when he pressed his lips to a certain spot.

“Bill—“ She breathed out, pulling at his hair until he was forced to pull away and meet her gaze. “Are you sure? Nothing has to happen. I’m gone tomorrow.”

“That’s the p-p-point, Bev,” Bill muttered, kissing her again and laying her back on his bed to hover over her, “We’re j-j-just suh-saying goodbye.”

She traced a thumb over his lower lip, “Even drunk, you stutter when you’re nervous,” Bev echoed herself from earlier before nodding, “Okay, Billy, tell me goodbye.”

So, he did.

Come on Eileen

Oh, I swear what he means

Aah, come on let's

Take off everything

That pretty red dress

Eileen (tell him yes)

The Fourth Kiss (The one that finally brought them together.)

“Get the fuck up and put some goddamn clothes on!” Someone yelled, shaking Bill awake.

He startled up and looked blearily on. He found he had a splitting headache and was indeed clothe-less; Richie Tozier of all people was standing in his room, too.

He squinted away from the sun and groaned, “Wh-what time is it?”

“Time for you to fucking explain some shit,” Richie snapped, throwing boxers and a t-shirt at his friend harder than necessary. “So put your dick away, please.”

After tugging the clothes on, Bill’s brain began to whirl at a sickening pace and he glanced around the bedroom once again.

“Looking for Bevvie?” Richie asked, quirking an eyebrow. “She already left. A fucking hour ago. That was why I was here, why all the Losers were here; to tell her goodbye until the summer.” Richie explained, sounding more and more angry with each word. “When fucking Stanley asked where the fuck you were, you know what Bevvie said?”

Bill looked away, ears flushing. He could guess…

“She said you two had already said your goodbyes… So, I thought, what the fuck does that mean? And then she got all weird and blush-y and wouldn’t look any of us in the goddamn eye. You know what I thought then, Billy Boy?”

Bill cringed, both at what he knew was next and at Richie’s rising voice.

“I thought, holy shit… Bill fucked Bev.”

“Sh-sh-shut up, Richie!” Bill snapped, looking back up at his friend to glare, “It wasn’t like that.”

“Wasn't like what, Bill? Hmm? You didn’t have sex with Beverly, then?” Richie accused.

Bill fell silent, his whole face now bright red. Richie snorted.

Anger now igniting in his chest as well, “Wh-what’s it to you anyway, Tozier? Wh-what happened has f-fuck all to do with you!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Richie looked at him incredulously, “No way you don’t see how fucked up what you did is. Normally, you’re a fucking moral compress, Denbrough, you know you screwed up!”

“Wh-what?” Bill asked, genuinely confused, “With Bev? It was just a goodbye, Richie! She k-knows that! It’s not like s-she’s in love with me!”

“BUT STAN IS!” Richie yelled at the top of his lung, slamming a fist down on Bill’s desk. His glasses were knocked askew.

Bill stood stock still, forgetting to breathe for a second. All the emotions, feelings, thoughts he’d been trying to repress ever since Stan’s rejection came crashing into him like a tidal wave. Shakily, his knees gave out.

Falling back onto his mattress, Bill swallowed hard and shook his head, “B-beep beep, Trashmouth. Y-you have no idea wh-what you’re t-talking about.”

“No, no, you don’t get to fucking ‘beep’ me right now, Billiam!” Richie snapped, putting a finger up. “I know exactly what I’m talking about! I’m talking about how Stanley told me he had feelings for you almost two fucking years ago! I’m talking about how you, not Stan, started up all the flirting and the alone time with him this year! I’m fucking talking about how much a total dick you have got to be to string Stan along, only to fuck Beverly!”

“I-I-I was-n’t st-stringing him alo-along!” Bill felt like he had no oxygen, making him gasp with each involuntary stutter. It was so fucking infuriating and made him itch to punch something.

A numbness slowly venturing up from his fingertips to spread across his body. He choked as he tried again to speak, “H-he— He—“

“Shit, this’ll kill him,” Richie grabbed a fist of his own curls and tugged with a groan, “Fuck you, Bill. Fuck you.”

With that Richie left him alone in his bedroom.

Even after the weekend ended and he’d had so much time to think, Bill had no clue what to do.

Stan couldn’t have feelings for him, no matter what bullshit Richie said. Bill had given Stan every hint and clue in the book — hell, read him fucking poetry and kissed him — and all he’d gotten was ignorance and rejection.

If Stan cared about him like he cared about him, why would he push him away at every turn?

But if Stan, somehow, someway, did feel the same as Bill… How the hell would he ever be able to tell him what he’d done?

Days later and sober, Bill could admit that having sex with Beverly hadn’t just been about saying goodbye to a friend and it wasn’t just about losing his virginity and it wasn’t just about being drunk. A part of him, a part he hated with a passion, had wanted…revenge.

He’d wanted to make Stan feel as shitty as he had watching the other boy tear away from him and get as far from him as possible. Having sex with Beverly, in some part, had been about getting back at Stan. It’d been out of spite.

Richie was right, Bill was a total dick. Fuck him.

Still, Bill didn’t completely regret it. He and Beverly had needed that closure, that certainty that nothing could ever happen between them anymore. They were meant for other people.

As he slowly walked to his locker, his locker just two down from Stan’s, he kept his eyes on his grey high-tops as they scuffed across the linoleum. His heart hammered in his chest and he had to make a conscious effort to not crush the paper in his hand.

Chancing a glance up, Bill came to a sudden halt that resulted in a body slamming into his shoulder from behind and nearly sent him sprawling. He barely noticed.

Stan was at his own locker with the door open, fiddling around with his textbooks until they were neatly ordered from tallest to shortest in size. Wearing a light blue polo and khaki slacks, Bill’s chest twisted at how the mere sight of the other boy could send him reeling.

Did Stan really have feelings for him, too? How would Bill ever tell him?

Taking a shaky breath, closing his eyes and counting to ten, Bill forced himself forward. Stan looked over as if he could feel Bill’s approaching presence. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he glanced back away, hands jumping back to rearrange his already perfect books.

Why does he have to be so damn cute?

Moving until he was only a few feet away, Bill cleared his throat, “I n-n-need t-t-to talk to yuh-you.”

“Yes!” Stan squawked, turning scarlet at the ears, “I mean, okay, sure… When?”

“Study h-hall?”

Stan nodded, expecting Bill to leave at that point. Only, he didn’t. He shifted from foot-to-foot before holding out his hand silently. There in his palm sat a piece of paper folded into the shape of a bird.

Stan stared at it for a long moment before glancing up into Bill’s eyes, “What’s that?”

Bill rubbed the back of his neck, “It’s an or-origami bird.”

“Oh,” Stan mumbled, cheeks flushing as he smiled just a little. Nodding, he carefully took the paper bird. Bill watched as Stan tucked the little thing into his locker, atop his history book. He turned back to Bill, “Thank you for...” He pointed.

Bill nodded, feeling even worse now about telling Stanley the truth. He sighed and started to walk backward, “I’ll suh-see you in study h-hall.”

Stan nodded, closing his locker and heading in the opposite direction. As he walked to class, his mind lingered on the little paper bird taking up residence on his history book. It was the first time Bill had asked to speak to him alone since... the incident. For a split second, Stan let himself hope that was significant and then immediately scolded himself.

He hated himself for hoping.

Study hall was both Bill and Stan’s second period and came more quickly than either of them was prepared for. Before things had gotten so messy and complicated between them, they had met almost every day in the Derry High Library, at the very same table in the far back corner where the librarian rarely bothered to check.

It was kind of Loser claimed, like the table in the cafeteria by the window where they all ate lunch together. By some miracle, all six boys had the same lunch period. Ben, Mike, and Stan always packed their lunches and Bill and Richie always waited through the line while everyone pretended not to notice how Eddie trailed alongside Richie despite packing his own lunch as well.

The table in the far back corner in the library was a bit like that. Their territory, neutral ground to any Loser... or two Losers who weren’t quite sure how to act around each other anymore.

Stan was waiting for Bill, straightening the pages of his notebook with an intense expression. So neat and orderly, Bill admired that about Stan since he just barely managed to keep his clutter organized enough for himself.

“H-hey,” He greeted, dropping his bag on to the table and slumping into the chair beside Stan.

“Hello,” Stan finally looked up from his notebook, still nervously fiddling with his nails. Meeting Bill’s eyes for a beat, he quickly went about inspecting his hands, “You wanted to talk?”

Bill nodded, trying to think of the right way to lay everything out.

He didn’t want Stan to run away again, didn’t think he could bear it again, but he was also so tired of keeping everything locked up in his head. He needed a release and to ease the weight on his chest before he exploded.

Half-panicked, he blurted out, “I had s-s-sex with Beverly.”

Stan’s fiddling fingers froze and his head shot up to look at Bill, mouth agape. He blinked and swallowed before slowly breathing out, “Oh,” Forcing in a lungful of air, Stan cleared his throat, “Congratulations, I guess?”

That was what one guy said to another when they scored, right? That was what Bill wanted him to say, right? Because they were friends and normal guys who aren’t in like — or maybe something more — with their best friends would be happy that their buddy had ‘gotten laid’.

Be normal, Stan. Just be normal. Ignore how much you want to throw up or cry or scream and just be fucking normal. He silently chanted, biting the inside of his cheek hard.

Bill sighed and dropped his head into his hand before looking back up at Stanley with a long sigh, “No, not c-con-congratulations! F-f-fuck, I juh-just—“

The boy was obviously flustered and nervous, with how much he was noticeably struggling with his stutter. Stan watched Bill rake a hand through his hair, hair he’d once touched too, with an air of confused. Well, what the fuck did Bill want from him, then? Why the fuck was he even telling him this?

“I m-m-messed up.”

The curly haired boy’s eyebrows drew together, “How? You like Beverly, so—“

“I don’t.” Bill cut off, his voice determined and sure. “Nuh-not like that, at least. The sex made that p-p-pretty clear. I m-messed up because I was with her wh-when I really like someone else.”

“Someone else?” Stan echoed, the pain in his chest growing sharper with each word. First, he’d had to hear about Bill fucking Beverly and now he was going to have to hear about some new girl that Bill liked even more? He didn’t want to listen, didn’t want to hear it... But he was Bill’s friend.

“I like you,” Bill admitted, his voice keeping that sure tone as he stared into Stan’s eyes.

The boy’s breath caught in his throat and he began jerkily shaking his head, “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do!”

“You like girls, Bill. You like Bev and you think Heather Listing is hot and you don’t like me!” Stan snapped, standing up from his chair. “It’s not funny, it’s not a joke, so just stop!”

Bill stood with him, “No! You don’t know how I f-f-feel! I’m not kidding! B-being with Beverly only m-made me realize once and for all th-that the only person I really want to be with is you, Stan! I k-know you p-probably don’t feel the same and th-that’s—“

That’s whatever, he’d been planning to say. It wasn’t whatever but he wouldn’t burden Stan with feelings he didn’t return. That had been his plan, at least.

But he couldn’t even finish the sentence, hands grasping his face and lips slamming against his.

Stanley Uris, the most controlled person Bill Denbrough had ever met, was kissing him like his life depended on it in the Derry High Library on what could only be impulse. Bill didn’t care, though, moving closer and gripping the fabric of Stan’s polo in his fists. The weight in his chest lifted and for a moment, being with Stan like he’d always wanted to be, Bill felt more at ease than he’d been in weeks.

Stan was calming, his presence always comforting to Bill like a steady support to fall back on. A best friend but more…

When they pulled apart, Bill waited a few seconds to open his eyes, afraid that once he looked at Stan all he’d see was that same panic from his bedroom. Lids fluttering open, he found only a look of pure anxiety.

“I do feel the same way,” Stan admitted quietly, his breath ghosting over Bill’s face as they were still so close. “I’m just...” He trailed off, looking to the side shamefully.

“S-scared?” Bill supplied.

Stan nodded, flickering his gaze back to Bill’s.

“That’s okay,” The other boy shrugged, “I am, too. We’ll juh-just take it slow.”

“Take our time,” Stan agreed, nodding. “I like that.”

“M-me too. I’ll take all the t-time for you,” Bill reached out, slipping his hand into Stan’s and squeezing.

Stan actually smiled a little, squeezing back before bashfully muttering, “I really like you, Bill Denbrough.”

“I really like you, too, Stan Uris.” Bill replied easily without a single stumble.

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