#how much blue can i shove into fanart challenge

[ceruleankitkats]

First meeting + Identity reveal ♡

[hellfirenacht]

Can’t Be Unseen Ch 3

Sal Fisher x Reader

First Chapter

Last Chapter

Ao3

Art by: @ochibi-chan​, thank you so much for the fanart!

'He has no nose.' was the first thing that came to your mind as you found yourself staring in shock at the face of your date clearly for the first time. For as many scary movies you’d seen with Sal and Larry, his face was nothing like the special effects makeup you had grown used to. Sal’s face was real, and it shocked you. 

While you had caught glimpses of him before, it had only been his chin and mouth. You knew that there had been a chunk of his jaw that was misshapen, you saw the deep scar on his mouth as well as the slight discoloration where skin grafts had taken place. 

You weren't prepared for the lack of nose, or the rigid scarred skin that covered most of his face. It scared you- not in a way that would have you running in fear, but in a way a friend would jump out from behind a wall. A moment of horror before realizing that there was no danger, realizing that it was still your friend. 

The shock lasted all of a moment until the kid spoke up again quietly, holding Sal's prosthetic in his hand. 

"Oh..." was all he said before Sal snatched his face back. 

"Hope you're satisfied." Sal mumbled after he clicked it back into place. You looked away, but you already knew it was too late. 

Sal had seen the look on your face when you had seen his, and it wasn't a good one. Guilt washed over you in seconds, replacing the shock. This isn't what you had wanted. Yes, you did want to see his face at some point, but not like this. Not when it wasn't on his terms in a way where you could make him feel safe and have it go as slow as you both needed. But it was too late, you had both seen everything. 

You fucked up. 

He started walking away quickly and you almost had to jog to catch up to him. It was quiet between the two of you but unlike previous times where the quiet had been comforting, this time it was tense and uncomfortable. You couldn't believe how badly you fucked up at such an important moment. You could only imagine how hurt he must be right now, when all you wanted to do was apologize. 

His hand wasn't in yours anymore, and it felt empty. You opened your mouth a few times to say something, anything, to try and convey how sorry you were and that you never wanted to hurt him and that you were just shocked and to please just talk to-

"Every weekend, right?" he asked, still looking straight ahead. 

"...What?" 

"This happens every weekend until Mid-November. That's what you said, right?" You tried to get a read on his voice, but you couldn't. The challenge that you loved was now just a confusing mess. 

"Y-yeah."

"Let's go again next weekend." Sal said, his voice softer and not so distant. Your heart leapt in your chest and your breath caught in your throat. Had you not fucked up so badly after all? Despite what had just happened, had today been enough for your feelings to reach him?

"I- y-yeah sure!" you said quickly, staring at him, though he continued to stare ahead, not glancing at you at all. That should have been your first clue. 

"Yeah, I think Larry and Ashley would really have a lot of fun." Sal continued. "We didn't have a chance to check out many of the art exhibits and I think Larry would be a better ride partner than me." 

Oh.

 This was his way of letting you down gently. It's not like it had been your plan to confess tonight, but it looked like he wasn't even going to give you the chance. Knowing Sal, he was probably doing this to save you the embarrassment after everything that had happened. 

Sal Fisher didn't feel the same way about you. You knew that this was always going to be a possibility, but you didn't think it'd hurt this bad. 

Who knew that the Sally Face Killer's method was to stab you in the heart?

Still though, you had a reputation to uphold, if he was doing his best to let you down easily, the least you could do was take the rejection with grace. You'd save the crying for when you got home, in the privacy of your own bed. 

"Yeah, with all that headbanging he does, a few rides on those spinning things should be a piece of cake." your voice cracked slightly at the end, and you tried to hide it with a cough. 

Addison Apartments was coming up close on you both, and you felt relieved. 

"Thanks for inviting me out today." Sal said as you headed in. "I'm gonna go check on Larry."

He was gonna go tell Larry about how badly you fucked up. 

"Alright." you replied. "I'll, uh, see you at school then." 

For a few moments you were alone on the first floor as Sal used the elevator to go down. He had thanked you, but it didn't feel genuine. He was usually the first to tell someone if he had fun but those last few moments had completely tarnished everything. It wouldn't even surprise you if he shoved the stuffed animal somewhere he would never have to look at it again. 

The elevator finally dinged and you were thankful that no one was inside. It was when the doors finally closed that tears started to form in your eyes. Your parents would be out late tonight- Saturday was their date night. You could go to your room and cry all you wanted without having to worry about them asking intruding questions. 

 Walking into the kitchen, you kicked off your shoes and headed to your room quickly, shutting the door behind you. How had today gone so wrong? How could you have reacted so poorly to seeing your friend and crushes' face? 

And now that you had seen his face, what did that mean? Of course, it was too late to do anything about your feelings at this point, Sal had seen the look on your face when you stared at him. There was no coming back from that. Actions aside though, what did seeing his face really mean to  you in terms of how you felt about him? 

You laid down and closed your eyes, tears still running down your face. Taking deep shaky breaths to try and calm your nerves, you brought the image of his face to mind, at least what you could remember what you had seen today. 

It was best to think of one piece of his face at a time, starting from the bottom up. You had seen his chin before, that wasn't anything that bothered you by now. His lips were thinner than you had thought to begin with, though that was probably because the few times you had glimpsed them, it had been shadowed by the prosthetic. The upper lip was slightly misshapen, as if a part of it had been torn and sewn back together. His lips still looked soft though, 

The nose. Okay, that was something that would take some getting used to. You think there was a slight bump where a nose would normally be, as though the doctors had attempted to keep some of the cartilage in place. The more you thought about it, the more okay it became. 

Skin, you didn't have a problem with. It was patchy and uneven in texture and color but it was okay. There were scars all over his face, from deep looking gashes to sharp thin lines. The skin was pale or red mostly, unsurprising as you were sure that the prosthetic didn't allow much sunlight- not that he would ever take it off outside anyway. His skin also seemed thin and delicate. You briefly wondered what it would feel like to touch his cheeks and feel the different textures of his face. Would he even allow someone to get that close?  

His eyes were the least surprising to you. His eyes had darker circles than you had noticed before, but they were still the same eyes. Or eye? For the sake of argument, you went with eyes. Underneath the prosthetic you sometimes had trouble seeing his eyes, but sometimes when the light hit him just right you were struck by how blue they were.  You had grown to love that shade of blue. 

Blue hadn't meant much to you until you met Sal Fisher. 

The overall expression was... blank. Almost as neutral as his prosthetic. You wondered if it was because he didn't want to show any emotion while so vulnerable or because for so long he never needed his face to communicate. 

As you pieced together his face in your mind, a pain shot through your heart as you realized something important. 

No matter what his face looked like, you still desperately liked him. 

The next hour was dedicated to clinging to your pillow and crying ugly tears. The next was dedicated to looking over your phone and trying to decide if you should talk to Larry or Ashley about what happened. 

You couldn't tell them the whole truth, you decided. They had both seen Sals' face before and had been so kind about it. The way Sal talked about it, they didn't even blink at the sight of him. 

You felt awful. 

Your phone dinged.

AshleyFace: So how'd it go?

Here goes nothing. You were glad you were home alone in your room and not around anyone else. 

BlankFace: Sal was a complete gentleman and let me down gently. I'm glad I had a chance to go out with him though, I don't have any regrets. 

You had so many regrets. 

AshleyFace: He turned you down? I'm so sorry. I thought you two would have been a cute couple. 

BlankFace: It's okay, at least now you and I can finally be together ;)

AshleyFace: Ha ha. I don't think my girlfriend would like that too much. 

BlankFace: I meant me and Todd. 

AshleyFace: He's still super gay and I think he's got a date with someone coming up. 

BlankFace: ....Chug?

AshleyFace: You know he's got a huge thing for Maple LOL 

BlankFace: Is everyone hooking up except me??

AshleyFace: Larry?

BlankFace: I don't think I have the heart to come between him and his right hand. I'm a flirt, not a homewrecker. 

AshleyFace: LMAO

You smiled as you hunched over your phone. You couldn't bring yourself to tell her exactly what happened, but at least you were able to talk to her a little bit. Acting like you were okay made everything else a little bit more okay. 

What you both saw couldn't be unseen, but you could at least try and move forward. You just hoped that you hadn't lost him as a friend. 

...

School on Mondays always suck, but school on Mondays after a terrible first date with a close friend sucked way harder than anything else. You shoved your bookbag into your locker and headed towards the cafeteria where most people gathered before class started. Normally you would have walked together with Sal and Larry but you had dragged your feet all morning, and told the group chat to go on ahead before you. Sal always liked being more early, and though Larry wasn't exactly a morning person he'd always show up to school with his best friend. 

You looked over at the table where you all met and froze for a moment. You hadn't spoken a word to Sal since Saturday and a knot formed in the pit of your stomach. It was a nauseating feeling to think about going over there and acting like nothing had happened at all this weekend. 

It was easier to just head towards Homeroom, a quiet period where you didn't have any of your friends to talk to. You decided that it would be better to lay low for a while. 

Laying low wasn't super hard. You had art with Ashley and Larry (though Larry was seated at the opposite end of the room, making it slightly easier to avoid any questions), and Ashley wasn't one to pry unless she was convinced that something was wrong. You had never really told anyone the extent of your crush on the boy with pigtails, so making her think you were really okay was surprisingly easy. 

Though Larry was usually one to drop subjects if asked, you found it harder to avoid any questions from him. He pulled you to the side between classes and tried to ask what happened. 

"He's not interested." you replied, trying to shrug it off. "It's no one's fault."

"It... might be mine." Larry suddenly said. "I think I might have said something to make him think that it wasn't a real date."

Oh the irony. You almost wished he was right and that was the reason things were now awkward between you and Sal. You shook your head and place a hand on his shoulder. 

"If that's the case, then it's double clear that he wasn't interested." you said with a small smile. 

"Looks like my crush was dead on arrival, huh?" 

"I'm really sorry about it." Larry frowned. 

"Dude, it's fine." just had to shake him off the trail of your shattered heart now. "Now that's Sal's off the list you better watch yourself- you're third in line." 

"Third? Wait, who's second?"

You just smiled and winked at him as you ducked into your next class. 

It seemed like Sal hadn't told Ashley and Larry about what happened at the end of the date. It was a relief, really. You still weren't ready to face them about how you had treated the guy you had a crush on. 

Science class was torture. It was the one class that you had with Sal, though you didn't sit near him. He was seated near the front and you sat a few seats behind him. On one hand, it meant that he wouldn't be looking at you but on the other, it meant that you got to spend the rest of the hour staring at the back of his head. It wasn't something that normally distracted you, but today it made focusing nearly impossible. 

When the bell rang for lunch, you took your time packing up as you tried to figure out if Sal was going to approach you or not. He briefly glanced over at you, making you feel like a deer in the headlights for a moment. But he continued out the door without saying a word. 

Suddenly you didn't have much of an appetite. 

Still though, you grabbed your bagged lunch from your locker and walked towards the cafeteria, hesitating a moment before walking in and then walking right back out. You suddenly decided that your homework wasn't gonna do itself, so you got a permission slip from one of the teacher on lunch duty and made your way to the school library. You weren't allowed to eat in there, but you weren't hungry anyway. 

The library is where you spent lunch for the rest of the week. It was the one period you had where you felt okay, without the crippling guilt. You could hide in a back corner with your nose in a book, or study, or draw, and the world would leave you alone. 

"Are you avoiding Sally Face?" a voice said from behind you, causing you to jump. You had been so deep into a book that you hadn't heard anyone coming towards you. 

"Ah, what?" you turned to see Larry. "I uh... what?" 

"We haven't seen you all week." he continued. "Sally Face is starting to think you're avoiding him." 

"I'm not!" you said, defensively. "I've just got a lot of school work that I need to catch up on." 

He just shook his head. "You haven't been walking home with us either." 

You didn't have a rebuttal for that one. "I... I just..." you sighed. "Things got weird between us after last weekend." 

"Listen, I kinda get it. You liked Sal more than you let on, yeah? And it's weird now that you know he's not interested but, dude, you can't just keep ignoring all of your friends. You do still want to be friends with him, right?" 

You nodded. 

"Then stop being a coward, and walk home with us again. If you wanna keep hiding in the library at lunch that's fine but... we all miss you." 

There was a slight pang in your chest at the words. 

"Even Sal...?" you asked quietly, unsure. 

"Of course he does. He's the reason I'm talking to you right now. He wanted to talk to you himself but he didn't wanna make your uncomfortable and shit." 

"Really...?" you couldn't help but be surprised. "I thought I blew it..."

"Just 'cause he didn't feel the same way doesn't mean he doesn't still like having you around." 

"I'm an idiot I guess."

"Well yeah, duh." he laughed. "Now you're gonna come home with us today, no buts."

"But I like butts." you shot back with a smirk. 

"There it is." he laughed again. "See you after school."

"Hey, Larry?" 

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

...

It became an unspoken agreement that you and Sal didn't talk about the date, and what had happened. It was okay though, you didn't want to face him in a manner of speaking. You three started walking to school again, though it was a few weeks before you really felt okay being so close to him. 

Larry was the real champ about it though, he never let the conversations become awkward between the three of you. He always had some topic to talk about, or some song he wanted to share on your morning commutes. You didn't know what you did to have such a great friend but you were thankful. 

Sal started to slowly talk to you again as well. Despite what Larry had said it was hard to read Sal, or maybe you just weren't ready to read him yet. Talking was slow at first, his questions about science homework, asking him to grab an extra fork at lunch because you forgot to grab one, small talk. But as the fall semester crawled by, you found your friendship starting to stand on solid ground again. 

Flirting with him never felt the same though. It didn't feel right to flirt with someone who had turned you down. At the same time it felt as though he was also keeping his distance from you. You really couldn't blame him. If someone looked at you in shock and horror upon seeing your face for the first time, you wouldn't exactly want to be close to them either. 

Sometimes when you two were left alone for more than a few minutes, you considered bringing it up. You'd get so close to opening your mouth to talk to him but the words would die in your throat. On the one occasion where the words started to make their way out of your mouth, Todd had shown up to introduce you to his new boyfriend, Neil. 

Timing was really not your thing, huh? 

November came and went and your whole group buckled down to study for finals. There were many long nights where you were all crowded into Larry's basement, papers and books strewn everywhere as you all attempted last minute cramming and tutoring on each other. There was more than one night where Lisa would come home to see a handful of kids passed out in her living room, surrounded by notes, or still awake and color coding flashcards.

On one such night, you noticed that Sal was chugging an energy drink that Larry had given him through a crazy straw. One of the two that Sal had bought for you on that night. 

You couldn't tell if it hurt or helped that he still had it. 

Finals ended with a fizzle rather than a bang. You were very unsure about science, but you were confident enough that you at least passed the rest of the tests. By the time the bell rang to let you all out on the last day, everyone had collectively agreed that they were done talking about tests. 

Making your way back to Addison apartments was proving to be more difficult than expected for the three of you. It had snowed the day before and rained a little at night, making the sidewalk a long tail of ice and slush. Normally this wouldn't have been a problem, as you all had snow boots, but you had all collectively used the last three brain cells to finish up with school for the semester. This, combined with the lack of sleep from cramming, had left you all feeling slightly delirious and deciding that the three of you slipping and stumbling around was the funniest thing to ever happened. 

"Nope! Nope! Nope! Bad step!" you laughed, stumbling forward after stepping on a hidden patch of ice. You managed to not fall flat on your face this time but you were sure it was going to happen eventually. 

"Larry you should take one for the team and go first." Sal said. "We'll follow behind in your footsteps."

"No way, Sally Face." Larry replied. "If I go first and fall backwards that's a whole domino effect where I end up on top of you both." 

"My one fantasy." You said with a dramatic sigh as Larry turned and winked at you. 

Dragging Sal into your flirts was okay if you roped someone else into it as well. 

"I'll go first!" You volunteered, stretching your legs out to take a big step forward. 

"You've fallen more times than anyone!" Sal said with a shake of his head. 

"Details, details." you said with a hand wave. "Besides, we're almost there! I can see the apart- OOF!"

Your foot landed on another patch of ice, causing you to fall backwards. Larry, having been right next to you by the point, grabbed onto your arm tightly to try and steady you, but the force of your fall was too much. Something softer that the ground was suddenly pressed against your back, as Larry was pressed against your chest. 

"Ow."

"Oof."

"Fuck."

Your fall had both pulled Larry down and knocked Sal over as well. Sal had landed on his butt after unintentionally catching you on the way down, and Larry had ended up on to of you, having landed on his knees pretty hard. The three of you were a little confused for a second, before you decided to break the tension. 

"My other one fantasy." 

Larry let out a laugh that was more like a snort as he made his way back onto his feet. Behind you, you could hear Sal let out a small laugh as well. It took some doing, but eventually you all managed to stand back up, brushing off the snow and dirt from your clothes. 

"Anyone hurt?" you asked. 

"Scraped knee and hands." Larry said. 

"Scrapped elbow." you replied. 

"Scrapped butt." Sal added. 

"Want me to kiss it better?" you and Larry both said at the same time before all three of you started laughing again. 

Through the power of teamwork, the three of you managed to make it to the apartment complex with much fewer casualties. Larry left you two alone quickly, stating he wanted to get his hands cleaned up so his mom wouldn't worry. It seemed weird that he was in a rush to get going, but then Sal spoke up. 

"Hey uh, do you want to take a walk?" 

You looked at him slightly surprised at the invitation. When was the last time you had been alone for more than a few minutes to talk? 

No, you already knew the answer. 

"Sure." you agreed, and he lead you around the building, starting a trek of doing laps. 

It was quiet for a while, with nothing but the sound of your shoes crunching against the fresh snow. A cold breeze made you hug yourself and adjust the scarf around your neck so that it covered your mouth. Dumb you had forgotten to bring lip balm, and you really didn't want to get chapped lips. The sound of your name from right next to you bought you back down to Earth. 

"Are we... okay?" Sal asked, still looking ahead as he spoke. 

You weren't sure how to answer that, or even if there was a good answer to be given. 

"I... huh?" 

"That night at the festival," Sal continued. "You saw what was under my prosthetic." 

Oh. Oh no. You weren't ready for this conversation. You weren't ready to talk to him about this. Panic bubbled in the pit of your stomach. There was no going back now. 

"Yeah... I did." you said quietly. "I'm sorry." 

"You didn't rip my face off." 

You shook your head. "No but... I..." you took a deep breath, willing the small lump in your throat to go away. "I shouldn't have reacted like I did." 

"Is that why you've been avoiding me?" His voice was soft, comforting, non-judgmental. It made you want to cry even more. 

"No... well, not fully." you started, and after a moment of silence you continued. "I saw your face and reacted badly and I hated myself for reacting badly because Ashley and Larry both saw without freaking out or saying anything and I couldn't be like that for you so I just thought it’d be better to stay away." 

You finally took a breath after spewing up the word vomit. You didn't mention him not returning your feelings as you hoped that went without saying. 

"I'm used to people looking at me like that." He was trying to make you feel better, but the words just cut into your heart. Your eyes felt hot as they started to water, but you were trying hard not to let any tears escape. 

"You shouldn't though!" you snapped back. "You... you're a great guy and I like you a lot and you shouldn't have to deal with stupid people like me not knowing how to react to your face!" 

He stopped walking and looked at you. Tears were escaping your eyes now, and you were shaking hard. He reached up and placed a hand on your shoulder. 

"Do you still want to be friends?" he asked softly. 

You nodded and he pulled you into a tight, warm hug. Your nose was smooshed up against his ear muffs, and you were sure that some of your tears were landing in his hair but you felt okay for the first time in months. 

It was scary how empathetic and kind Sal could be. Always willing to give people as many chances as they needed to grow. You hoped that one day you could show someone even a fraction of the kindness that he had shown you. 

"I missed you." He said, not letting go of you. 

"I missed you, too." you whispered back. 

You two stayed like that for a while. Even though it was freezing outside, his hug was so warm. It was you who ended up pulling back first, not wanting to accidentally get some snot into his hair. 

"Now that things are better I wanted to ask you something." Sal said, starting to walk again, you fell into step with him. 

"What's up?" 

"Dad's wanting to have a small holiday party next week." Sal explained. "Nothing fancy but he wants you and Ashley and Larry to come by and roast marshmallows and watch Rudolf." 

You couldn't help but smile. "That sounds like a lot of fun, actually. I'd love to drop by." 

The two of you were in front of the building again, and he lead the two of you inside. 

"Cool, the party starts at six next Friday." He pushed the button for the elevator. 

"Six on Friday. Gotcha." you pulled out your cell and made a note of it." 

The two of you said your goodbyes as he made his way to the basement to invite Larry and you made your way back up to your room. 

Things were finally starting to feel normal again. 

...

LarryFace: so did you 2 kiss and make up yet?

BlankFace: Too soon. But we did make up. 

LarryFace: u goin to the party then?

BlankFace: Yup! You?

LarryFace: ya me and mom are gonna be there

BlankFace: Cool! See you there then! 

Next Chapter

[richiefuckfacetozier]

Chapter 5: Heroes

Story: It’s Not My Fault

Note: @slashpalooza made this fanart as a Valentine’s gift to me. Love you Alex!

Title - Heroes by David Bowie

That’s right friends a Loser’s car trip with Reddie. 

It can also be found on Archive of our own

For other chapters - | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 |

“Eddie, my precious snicker bar! Let’s get going.” Richie implored. Richie’s new bit of the week was to call Eddie different candies. Eddie thought it was kind of funny and just proved Richie only ever thought about sugary sweets.

Eddie had spent the last 20 minutes packing what felt to Richie and Stanley like all his belongs. He was really worried about forgetting something important.

“I am just making sure I packed everything and did not miss anything,” Eddie said looking at his list for the billionth time.

“Eddie, you were very thorough in your packing,” Stanley said reassuringly. “You got everything on the list I made for all of you.”

“What list?” Richie asked lazily.

“Damn you, Tozier,” Stanley grumbled.

“We have to get on the road. WE ARE BURNING DAYLIGHT!” Richie shouted dramatically.

Eddie looked outside and could see Bill’s big blue van, affectionately called Mama, parked in his driveway. Beverly and Ben had gotten out of the car, so she could smoke. Stanley and Richie were supposed to be bringing Eddie’s stuff down so they could get on the road, but this was proving a challenge. “Shit!” Eddie went into overdrive grabbing the rest of his supplies.

“Richie’s right, Eddie,” Stanley said glancing at his watch. “Driving in the dark will not be fun.”

Richie and Eddie looked at Stanley horrified. Then Richie’s face broke out into a huge smile, “We all heard it. Stan the man Uris said I was right. Let it be known. Let it be written! Hell, tattoo it on my arm.”

“Shut the fuck up, Richie,” Stanley said. “But seriously, we have to get on the road. I scheduled out the trip down to the minute and you are holding us back 22 minutes now.”

“Yes, ok fine! Let’s go.” Eddie grabbed his backpack and toiletry bag, while Stanley picked up his suitcase. Richie grabbed Eddie’s dad’s skiing gear. Eddie wanted to rent his own at the skiing range, but his mom insisted he take them since they were collecting dust at this point. It was hard for Eddie to think about his father. Sometimes, he wondered how his life would have gone if his dad had not died. Maybe his mom would be less protective and they would be happier. Then he would feel guilty for feeling this way when his mom had tried to do the best she could with a terrible situation.

“I like your dad’s skis. They are so cool.” Richie said admiring the black skis with hand painted stars on them. Eddie smiled at him as they made their way downstairs. Fortunately, his mom was out today. They had been arguing every day about him going on this trip. She got fed up with a final plea last night. Eddie did not back down once, even if his mind wanted to give in. He knew Richie would be really disappointed if he did that to them.

Eddie held the door open for Richie and Stanley. “We are only going to be gone a weekend, Eddie!” Ben said shaking his head. “We still need to fit Mike’s stuff.”

“You’re our resident architect, Benny boy. So start architecturatoring and fit all the stuff in Bill’s car!” Richie put the skis under the tarp on the roof.

Stanley fixed him with an exasperated look, “Architecturatoring is not a word, you idiot.”

“How does Richie get better grades than all of us?” Ben teased.

“My theory is he has a photographic memory,” Eddie grumbled. “I call shotgun!”

“Challenge!” Richie yelled. The two of them flew at the passenger door handle. Bill’s head shot up to watch them shoving each other. He was sitting in the driver's seat looking at the map but raised it slowly to hide behind. Eddie wiggled his way in front of Richie and wrenched the door open, trying to climb in.

“G-g-guys...chill. Don’t hurt, Mama. She’s a sensitive car.” Bill said nervously at their squabble. Richie caught Eddie’s legs to pull him out before he could sit down. 

Eddie yelled trying to free his legs, “I get car sick!” Eddie complained while kicking at Richie. He had managed to turn Eddie around, but Eddie was holding onto the door frame for dear life.

“You lie, dear lollipop! You just get so nervous when others drive you that you make yourself sick.” Richie was grinning smugly because he knew Eddie would not be able to hold on for very much longer.

“Same difference!” Eddie could feel his hands start to slip. “Fuck.”

“This is not how I pictured getting between your legs for the first time,” Richie laughed crudely. Every single loser groaned at the horrible innuendo.

Eddie aimed a well-placed kick to Richie’s chest for revenge. The lanky boy stumbled back rubbing at the new pain. Eddie slammed the door and locked it, then rolled down the window to stick his tongue out. “HA! Suck it, Richie!”

“Buy me dinner first,” Richie choked out as Eddie flipped him off. “You kicked me! The jelly bean of my eye kicked me.” Richie was in total shock.

Stanley glared at them, “You deserved it.” He checked his watch again. “Get in the fucking car everyone. We need to get Mike. I’ll sit behind Bill since I am navigating.”

Bill and Eddie looked at each other anxiously from inside the car. Ben, Beverly, and Richie stood staring at Stanley in surprise.

“Stan...is that such a good idea?” Beverly said hesitantly.

He looked at her incredulously, “Why wouldn’t it be? It’s my family’s place, I know how to get there.”

Ben piped up, “Sure, it's just that...when you are under pressure...you kind of…” Stanley’s gaze darkened and Ben lost his courage to continue.

“That is to say,” Beverly tried to explain sensitively, “When you have to be in charge of directions you...it’s just…”

Richie interrupted because this was taking too long, “What Benverly are so eloquently trying to say is YOU have a terrible sense of direction, will get us lost, then freak the fuck out in a typical Stan the Man way. Eddie should navigate.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Eddie said warningly from his seat.

Bill leaned over Eddie to speak out the passenger window. “Eddie can just do it, Stan. He’s a really good n-n-navigator.”

Stanley gapped at all of them trying to hide his hurt, “I will not freak out! And I can read a stupid map, Bill!” Stanley went to Eddie’s window and grabbed the map from Bill’s hand.

“I’m n-n-not s-s-sayin yuh-yuh-you can’t…” Bill always stuttered worse when people were upset at him.

“I will be perfectly fine to navigate, stuttering Bill. Let’s GO!” Stanley stormed to the other side of the car. Eddie saw Bill flinch at the harsh use of his usually endearingly spoken nickname. Bill leaned back in his seat looking straight ahead.

“So excited to spend the weekend with my besties!!” Richie cheered sarcastically. “We are so good at communication.”

“Beep beep, Richie,” Beverly said quietly. “I’m going to sit in the middle because I get a bit car sick on long rides if I can’t look forward.”

“I call next to Bev!” Riche yelled. They put the back seat down so Ben could climb into the way back. Eddie tried to glance at Stanley for reassurance that he was not too mad, but his face was hidden behind the map. Beverly gingerly sat down in the middle seat beside Stanley, as Richie squished next to her slamming the door.

Eddie saw Beverly slowly place her hand on Stanley’s arm. He tensed, then folded up the map taking a deep breath, “I’m sorry, Bill.”

“All good,” Bill shrugged and the subject was dropped for now. “Play some muh-music Eddie.” He started the car and drove out of the driveway.

Eddie went into his CD holder, “What do we want to listen too?”

“AC/DC!” Richie shouted.

“Joan Jett!” Beverly countered.

“Journey!” Ben said.

“I’d listen to some Journey.” Stanley agreed.

“Alright, Journey before Mike gets here and judges us.” Eddie popped in the CD.

“I’m judging us.” Richie pointed out.

“We’ve got 4 and a half hours in this car together. I will only be judging us.” Stanley said smiling as the rest of them laughed.

They got to Mike’s place and Ben worked to fit everything in the car. It was jam-packed with their bags, coolers for drinks, and snacks galore. They said goodbye to Derry and were off on their adventure.

  HOUR 1:

“I want to listen to Michael Jackson.” Mike pretested. Currently, the car was filled with AC/DC music.

“No Mike, we always listen to Michael,” Beverly said. “How about Tears for fears?”

“THRILLER!!!” Mike sang.

“That’s such a spooky song,” Ben said.

“It's close to midnight and something evil's lurkin' in the dark,” Mike kept singing. Eddie turned in his seat so he could look back at Mike. He was giving Ben crazy eyes, which made everyone laugh.

Ben giggled nervously, “We should be listening to Christmas music, it is December.”

“That’s not fair to Stan.” Beverly pointed out patting his hand.

“It doesn’t matter much to me-”

Mike put his hands on Stanley’s shoulders, startling the poor guy. “Under the moonlight you see a sight that almost stops your heart.”

“You just about stopped my heart,” Stanley put his hand on his chest.

“Gay,” Richie said.

Eddie smacked Richie’s leg and watched as Mike removed his hands from Stanley’s shoulders then unbuckled his seatbelt. Eddie shook his head about to say something when Mike sang louder, “You try to scream but terror takes the sound before you make it,” Mike crawled half over the backseat between Stanley and Beverly.

“Mike!” Stanley yelled, “Put your seatbelt back on!”

“Sit down Mike!” Bill said harshly glaring at the rearview window. Eddie watched Ben struggle to pull Mike back but the taller and stronger boy would not budge.

Mike’s voice was drowning out the AC/DC music at this point, “You start to freeze as horror looks you right between the eyes, YOU’RE PARALYZED!” Everyone was shouting at Mike to sit down, except Richie who had joined in singing.

“JUST PUT THE SONG ON EDDIE!” Stanley shouted looking at him with terrified eyes. Stanley, Ben, and Beverly managed to yank Mike back into his seat. Stanley hurriedly buckled Mike as the guy just laughed at his friend.

Eddie went into his CD case, took out his Michael Jackson Disc and popped it in the player blasting Thriller.

“Don’t do that,” Stanley said berating Mike.

“Aw, Stan! You care so much for me. Now shush! The king of R&B is singing.” Mike and Richie sang thriller doing the dance moves in their seats.

They kept listening to Michael Jackson but when Billie Jean came on, Richie was getting bored. “Why is every love song so fucking straight,” Richie complained.

Beverly laughed, “Rich, I keep telling you to give David Bowie a chance.”

“No, I refuse.”

“You have no reason to not like him. You just don’t because he’s different from other rockers.” Eddie huffed out.

“I am not that shallow, Eds.”

“Don’t—“

Beverly interrupted, “Richie you are a self-proclaimed bisexual man, you should try to listen to him!”

“Just because Bowie is bi doesn’t mean I’ll like his music,” Richie argued.

“I always thought Richie was Eddie sexual,” Mike said aloud.

“MIKE!” Eddie yelled horrified as he buried his red face in his hands. Everyone laughed and Eddie heard a hive-five behind his seat.

“Anywayyyy,” Beverly continued, “He’s so provocative and incredible. Please, let’s listen to one song.”

Richie considered it for a moment then conceded, “Fine. Put him on.”

“WHAT!” Eddie spun in the passenger seat. The seat belt prevented him from turning fully. “Ow,” He gasped rubbing at where the belt jabbed into his neck. He went to unbuckle his seatbelt so he could look at Richie properly.

Stanley reached forward and put his hand firmly over Eddie’s hand. Eddie glared at him viciously. “What the hell, Stan?”

Stanley did not back down or remove his hand, “You aren’t pulling a Mike. Only one of us can give heart attacks over seat belt behavior. Keep it on!” They kept staring daggers at each other until Stanley slowly removed his hand, ready to prevent Eddie from unbuckling if he had too.

Richie leaned over Beverly to make eye contact with Eddie and give a shit-eating grin, “Here’s my beautiful face for you to yell at, you tasty gummy bear.”

Eddie’s gaze sharpened on him, “I spent HOURS trying to convince you to listen to Bowie but you kept stubbornly refusing. Beverly barely even tried.”

“Beverly’s my best friend, you're my boyfriend. Not listening to you is my job. Keeps your ego in check.” Beverly laughed behind him. She pushed his head down so she could make innocent eyes at Eddie.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Eddie turned back to face front. Richie poked his side and he jumped reflexively.

“Put it on, marshmallow.” Richie cooed. “Give me some of that sweet Bowie sound.”

Eddie blushed as the rest of the car laughed at them. He grabbed his CD case and put in his David Bowie mix. He scrolled to the best song he could think of and let it play.

The smooth rock sound began with a clever rhythm. Everyone stayed silent to listen. Eddie lip-synced along to the words.

“I, I will be king 

And you, you will be queen

Though nothing, will drive them away

We can beat them, just for one day

We can be heroes, just for one day...”

Eddie heard, “I love this songggg.” From Ben in the back but someone shushed him so Richie could really focus.

“...We can be heroes

Just for one day

We can be heroes…”

When the song ended Richie immediately said, “THAT IS LITERALLY OUR LOSER CLUB THEME SONG. PLAY IT AGAIN.”

Bill laughed, “You s-s-said Africa by Toto was our them-m-me song last week.”

“I spoke too soon! I have now been blessed with Bowie’s Heroes. EDDIE PLAY IT AGAIN!” Richie grabbed his sides to poke him repeatedly.

“Do...Not...Richie...don’t!” Eddie was trying to hold back laughs as he was tickled. “I’m pressing play! Chill dipshit.”

  HOUR 2:

“Beverly, did you pack cigarettes?” Richie asked worriedly.

“Yes, I...wait...Richie, I left them on my dresser.” Beverly moaned.

“Fuckkkkkkkk.”

“This will be good for you two,” Ben said encouragingly. “You both have talked about quitting.”

“Not cold turkey!” Richie whined. Eddie was watching the road carefully and saw as Bill drove past where they were supposed to merge.

“Hey, Stan…” Eddie said anxiously. He turned his head to look at Stanley. His curly head was buried in the map, hands shaking a little, and legs fidgeting. Eddie and Beverly made eye contact both thinking the same thing.

“What,” Stanley said barely controlled.

“I think we were supposed to get on the other highway just now.” He said with caution.

“We’re lost.” Richie guessed.

“We are not!” Stanley brought down the map to glare at Richie.

“Let go of your pride and give Eddie the map,” Richie said with a casual tone. He truly lacked any tact.

“I am not being prideful!” Stanley defended. "And we are not lost!"

“Get off here, Billy,” Eddie interjected. “We need to turn around.”

“How do you even know that?! I have the map.” Stanley huffed.

“Memorized it,” He really did not want to fight with Stanley but he was not going to let them get lost.

“You’re all against me!” Stanley roared.

“No we aren’t Stan,” Mike’s calm voice came from the back. “I trust you with my life and you are amazing at many things. Directions just aren’t your strong suit.”

Eddie expected another explosion but it was completely silent. Then he felt the map being shoved into his hands. He looked back at Stanley as the boy crossed his arms and stared out the window frowning.

“Let’s play a car game!” Beverly said to break the tension.

“What game?” Bill asked a forced cheeriness.

“Padiddle!” Richie yelled excitedly. “It’s the best game!”

“Padiddle only works if we can see taillights are out. The sun is still out, so you can’t really tell.” Stanley pointed out. There was only a little bite to his voice, maybe he did not want to stay mad.

“And I am not striping in front of everyone for padiddle,” Eddie added over his shoulder.

“Only for me,” Richie laughed.

“Shut up, Richie!”

“I’ve got one.” Ben jumped in. “I used to play it with my mom. You look into other cars and make up stories about what might be going on. Someone starts it then it goes to a new person to continue the story. Does that make sense?”

“Start us off Ben,” Beverly insisted.

Ben cleared his throat, “Alright, see the car on the right a little ahead of us? There are three teenage girls inside.” Eddie turned to see a red jeep with the three girls. “Tiffany, Tamera, and Tina decided to run away from home because everything was becoming too overwhelming...”

Mike spoke up, “So they packed up everything they could and took to the road not looking back. However, Tina had a secret...”

“That secret was um…” Stanley hesitated, “That she wanted to marry Tamera and Tiffany’s older brother Terri. He was planning to meet them in Vegas in a week so they could get hitched...”

Beverly continued, “Tamera and Tiffany would later be enraged that their friend would lie to them and make a plot to get even...”

“They would lure Terri and Tina into a false sense of security,” Richie said in a spooky voice. “By saying the wedding was a great idea but really they were going to kill them both for their treachery...”

Eddie piped up, “The murder would be slow and painful. However, Terri and Tina found out about the murder plot and decided to plan their own murder!”

“The wedding was a mess of murder and chaos and only one of them survived. The end.” Bill finished.

“Bill,” Ben said, “What the fuck, who survived?”

“Yeah!” Richie hit Bill’s shoulder, “You can’t leave it there.”

“You’ll never know.” Bill grinned.

Stanley laughed to himself, “I’m more concerned that we turned it into a murder spree. Do we need therapy?”

“Definitely,” They all said in unison.

  HOUR 3:

“Are we there yet?”

“No.”

“What about now?”

“Do you see us at the cabin yet?”

“When will we be there?”

“Richie, shut up.” Stanley and Richie had been going on like this for a couple minutes now. Richie’s constant stream of thoughts unyielding. “Eddie, make him stop.”

“If I knew how I would,” Eddie said lazily.

“Pull over Bill! I have to take a piss.” Richie said.

“Can you hold it another hour?” Stanley said frustratedly.

“No can do Stan the Man. When Mother Nature calls, you don’t ignore it. Just pull over—”

“Actually, can we go to a gas station so I can go?” Beverly asked.

“Sure,” Bill put the indicator on to get off the highway. Ben, Beverly, and Richie got out much to Stanley’s complaining.

“Get me skittles while you're in there!” Mike yelled to them. Richie gave a thumbs up.

“I feel like one of us should follow them,” Stanley said anxiously.

Eddie turned his head to look at him reluctantly. “By ‘someone’ do you mean me?”

Mike waved his hand dismissively, “Ben’s there, he’ll make sure they behave.”

“Ben has the backbone of a chocolate eclair,” Stanley said deadpan.

It took a moment for the joke to sink in but slowly Bill, Mike, and Eddie started laughing. They were cracking up so hard their sides hurt. Eddie was wiping away tears as he said, “You should have a fucking standup act, Stan.”

“B-but his only audience would b-b-be us.” Bill said turning in the driver's seat to smirk at Stanley.

“It’s the only audience he needs,” Mike put his hand on Stanley’s shoulder good-naturedly.

“Bunch of softies,” Stanley mumbled smiling.

Bill’s eyes shifted to Eddie’s window. He squinted with his mouth slightly agape. “Why are they running?” Eddie whipped his head to look out the window. He saw Richie yelling something; with Ben a little before him running faster than Eddie had ever seen him run; and Beverly taking up the rear.

“Richie is shouting something,” Eddie rolled down the window. His heart beating a little faster.

“START. THE. FUCKING. CAR.” Richie screamed. They were almost to the van.

Eddie looked to Bill, whose eyes were wide in confusion but he started the car saying, “Shit shit shit shit.” Over and over.

Ben got to the van first his momentum banging into the car then wrenching the back door open. He climbed into the middle seat saying, “COME ON BEV!” Out the open door.

Richie opened the front passenger seat door. Eddie was so confused he did not have time to process as Richie plopped onto his lap, slamming the door after him. Eddie made an “Ugh” sound at the surprising weight on his knees.

He tried to speak, “Richie! What the…”

Richie interrupted him, “Bill, put it in reverse, fucking be ready to go,” He leaned his back into Eddie’s chest putting his upper half to one side, so as not to squish Eddie. He could feel Richie’s heart beating a mile a minute.

“Babe, what happened?” Eddie asked trying to stay calm. He pushed back the curls sticking to Richie’s forehead, staring at him with concern. Richie leaned into the touch with his eyes closed taking deep breaths.

Suddenly, the weight of the car shifted as Beverly got in, “DRIVE BILL!” She screamed sliding the van door closed.

It was then that another voice could be heard through Eddie’s window. An angry vicious voice, “You shithead kids! I am calling the police!”

Bill was already putting the car in reverse then floored it out of the gas station and back on the highway. Eddie wrapped his arms around Richie’s waist tightly. Richie had his right hand gripping the grab handle above the door frame and his left on top of Eddie’s arms holding on for dear life.

Bill accelerated the car, they hit a pothole and everyone screamed as the car got a bit of air. Richie’s body lifted off Eddie’s for a moment then smashed back down on his lap as the car landed roughly. Eddie’s eyes prickled with tears at the impact on his crotch and he tried to muffle a scream as he instinctively tightened his grip around Richie.

“Rich,” Eddie said through gritted teeth, “Motherfuckingshitballs shift over a bit. That fucking hurt my dick.”

Richie chuckled, “Now’s not the time for dirty talk Eds.” He shifted to relieve him. Eddie pressed his face into Richie’s back, to hide his pained face and let the familiar cologne calm him down from a potential panic attack. Acting as a seat belt for Richie was proving terrifying.

“Someone explain what happened immediately,” Stanley said in a tone reminiscent of an angry parent.

“Not telling you, dad.” Richie responded immediately.

“Beverly and Richie are...are...IDIOTS.” Ben said in exasperation sounding on the verge of breaking down. “Sorry Bev, I don’t mean it but what you did was so dangerous and frankly careless.”

“I know I am so sorry,” Beverly choked out. Eddie could hear the coming of Beverly crying, so he tapped Richie to tell the story.

Richie got the hint, “Well as you all know...Beverly and I have an addiction to cancer sticks.”

“Already don’t like where this is heading,” Mike said from the way back.

“So just like when we used to swipe cigarettes as kids, we did operation ‘Flirt and grab’,” Richie explained.

Eddie shifted so his mouth was free. “Beverly, I hope Richie didn’t pressure you to um…”

“Whore myself?” She let out a small laugh even though it sounded watery from tears. “Don’t worry Eddie, I was not doing the flirting. I was not the man’s type.”

Eddie groaned, “Don't tell me…”

“That’s right!” Richie said passionately, “I took one for the team and turned on the Trashmouth charm. My flirting was going great and...”

“I somehow doubt that.” Stanley interrupted.

“Yeah Richie, you can barely flirt with Eddie.” Mike laughed, “You are a garbage can of Mom jokes, innuendos, and saying Eddie is cute.”

“That’s cause he’s the cutest!” Richie turned to kiss Eddie on the mouth. He did not reciprocate, peeved that Richie was even trying to flirt with someone else. “Don’t be mad at me, Laffy Taffy, it did not go in our favor.”

Eddie made a disgruntled noise, so Richie turned back forward trying to get comfortable against Eddie’s chest. Richie let both his arms settle on top of Eddie’s arms, which were still clutching around his waist for safety. Eddie put his chin on Richie’s left shoulder, their heads leaning into each other. “As I was saying, I flirted then Beverly snatched cigarettes while the foolish man was distracted. However, we did not count on him propositioning me, so I tried to shut down the mission too soon and the guy looked at his camera screen to see Beverly stealing. So I did the only sensible thing, hit a display of snacks to distract, grabbed Benny Boy’s hand and screamed ‘HAUL ASS BITCHES’.”

Eddie placed a hand over Richie’s mouth, “Inside voice.”

Richie pulled his hand away, “Oh! And nicked candy,” Richie reached into his pocket and threw a pack of skittles toward Mike’s direction.

“Thanks!” Mike said cheerily.

Richie opened his own pack of starbursts. He took out a red one and tried to feed it to Eddie. He grimaced, “Did you wash your hands after going to the bathroom?”

Richie rolled his eyes, “Yes, gumdrop.” Eddie let him plop the candy into his mouth, savoring the cherry goodness.

“Bill?” Beverly said nervously, “You’ve been quiet.”

Eddie shifted his head to look at Bill. His friend’s eyes were slits, brows furrowed and hands gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. He was breathing harshly through his nose trying to stay calm. “I’m really disappointed in you guys.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows looking over his shoulder to see Stanley’s surprised eyes and Ben’s hurt face. He could not see Beverly with Richie’s body preventing any more movement but assumed she was none too happy. No one commented on the fact that Bill did not even stutter.

“We are sorry, Bill.” Beverly said in a small voice.

“I’m not, we got the cigarettes,” Richie shrugged. Eddie rolled his eyes toward Bill’s enraged expression.

“Suh-suh-sorry about this, Eddie.” Bill seethed before taking his right hand off the wheel and aiming for Richie’s crotch. Bill hit home and Richie yelled in pain. His body convulsed on top of Eddie as he put his hands over his hurt manhood. Richie automatically tried leaning forward but Eddie’s arms were a vice.

“Fucking hell, Big Bill.” Richie put his hands on both sides of his legs taking deep shuddering breaths of rage. Eddie rubbed his hands in slow circles above Richie’s stomach making shushing noises. This seemed to help a little. Eddie definitely did not feel sorry for Richie, he was always getting himself into these situations.

“Ok. We are even.” Bill said cracking a smile. The rest of the car exploded into laughter. It was about 20 more minutes before Bill asked if they should pull over so Richie could sit in the back again.

“No, I like sitting in Eddie’s lap. He never lets me.” Richie nuzzled his face into Eddie’s neck brushing his lips over his skin. Eddie’s mind began to swim at the distracting lips.

“That’s because you weigh too much,” But Eddie realized this was a weak excuse. He actually really liked Richie being on his lap. Ever since he was a kid, people wanted Eddie to sit on their lap because he was “small and cute”. It was different having someone important to him sitting so close. It actually felt very adult. Richie started pressing his hot mouth against his throat making Eddie’s pulse quicken. Richie ran his teeth lightly over the sensitive skin by Eddie’s ear then trailed wet kisses across his jaw. Eddie wondered briefly if Richie knew what he was doing to him. Then the lips smirked into Eddie’s neck and it was all too clear...Richie was aware of exactly what he was doing. 

“Still think I weigh too much for ya?” Richie laughed into his ear. Then he shifted on his lap getting even closer to Eddie’s body making him gasp.

“Pull over,” Stanley mumbled. “Eddie and Richie are making me nauseous.”

Eddie felt mortified that he let Richie be so bold in front of their friends. His face was on fire.

“Just as I was about to give him a lap dance,” Richie laughed.

“Beep Beep Richie,” Eddie hissed.

 “Also, does the car feel unbalanced?” Bill wondered aloud.

“Probably the extra Richie weight in the front,” Mike shouted.

“Everyone stop roasting me about my weight. Fucking rude.”

  HOUR 4:

“Yep, the tire has definitely lost a lot of air pressure,” Ben said with a sigh, his breath showing in the air. They all stood around the wheel shivering from the cold. Richie was hugging Eddie and rubbing his arms to keep him warm.

“P-probably the p-p-pothole we hit,” Bill kicked the tire. “Mama deserves better than us.”

“You gotta use a straw to blow air back into the tire,” Richie suggested.

They all ignored him, “You got a spare?” Mike asked heading toward the trunk.

“Under all our shit,” Bill said miserably.

“Let’s work together to get it then,” Richie followed Mike. Eddie looked at him in surprise. He must feel guilty for being the reason this happened. Together they took out all their stuff that was blocking the latch where the spare tire lived.

“Oh good, it’s the same as the other tires. So we don’t have to get a replacement.” Ben said as him and Mike heaved out the tire. Bill picked up the Jack and lug wrench.

“Bev, can you…” Bill began.

“On it!” Beverly went into the glove compartment grabbing the driver’s manual.

Beverly, Ben, Bill, and Mike went to the front to start replacing the tire. Stanley and Eddie went to work on putting everyone’s stuff back in the trunk. Richie stood around smoking a cigarette giving terrible directions such as:

“You have to put your head under the car to get a proper angle, Benny boy.”

“It’s lefty hefty, righty titties.”

“Those directions are in Chinese.”

“You have to remove everything then quickly throw the tire underneath and pray to God it latches.”

Most of these joke made Beverly and Ben laugh but the rest ignored him. When Stanley and Eddie finished putting everything back in the trunk, Stanley said, “Since I don’t know anything about cars...I’m going to sit in the car before my ass freezes.”

“Rich,” Eddie said getting the attention of the crazy boy. “Leave them alone and let’s wait in the car.”

“Coming my Reese's Pieces,” Richie cooed. He turned to Beverly, “The old lady needs me.” She put her hand up to her mouth stifling a giggle.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Eddie glared. “Just get in the car, you idiot.” Eddie got into the front while Richie hopped in the back.

Stanley was already sitting in the car reading his copy of The Shining, his legs under a blanket he got from his bag. Richie scooted in the middle seat, grabbed half the blanket and snuggled next to Stanley, who promptly rolled his eyes but went back to reading.

“Stan the Man is so warm,” Richie said putting his head on Stanley’s shoulder. “Hope this doesn’t make you jealous, Eds. You are still number 1 cuddle bug.”

Eddie laughed, “I don’t get jealous when it comes to you.”

“Liar,” Stanley mumbled.

Eddie’s eyebrows raised, “Excuse me? What does that mean Stanny?”

He cleared his throat still not looking up, “Do you think Richie likes Bill better than me?” Stanley had raised his voice in a clear attempt to mimic Eddie’s voice. Eddie’s eyes went to Richie who was grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh come on,” Eddie said seriously, “I was like 10 when I felt that way.”

Stanley glanced up at him, “Stan, I think Richie has a crush Beverly. They always smoke and hang out. Richie knows I hate smoking, so they don’t invite me.”

Eddie crossed his arms, “14! I bet you can’t find a recent example.”

The trunk opened with a gust of cold wind, as Mike and Ben tossed the supplies and old tire in the back. Bill opened the driver’s side door and Beverly opened the back door to bring the seat down for the guys to pile in.

“Hey Bill, what did Eddie say to you a couple months ago about Richie being neglectful?” Stanley asked mischievously.

Bill looked at Eddie with a cheeky grin, “That Richie is neglectful b-because ‘he never hangs out with m-m-me anymore. I thought we were d-dating. He hangs out with everyone more than me. Don’t people d-dating see each other all the t-t-time? I miss him’.”

“That was at the beginning of our relationship!” Eddie said in horror. Richie had doubled over with laughter laying sideways on Stanley who had the biggest smirk on his face.

“But Eddie, you see each other every single day.” Beverly chimed in.

“I-I well...I mean…” Eddie did not know what he meant. This conversation was starting to be really embarrassing.

“I got one!” Mike said jumping into the way back with Ben following behind him. Beverly got in letting Richie stay in the middle seat. Bill started the car and they were back on course.

“Shut it Mike!” Eddie seethed glaring at his friend.

“No…” Richie said between laughs. “Please go on Mikey!”

“Last week, Eddie found out that a girl in homeroom likes Richie. So he made sure she knew you two were seeing each other by kissing in front of her locker the next day.”

“Traitor!” Eddie screeched.

“You said you were kissing me in public because I looked hot that day!” Richie said in mock hurt.

“Eddie thinks he plays it cool. It’s all an act.” Bill chuckled.

“I looked up to you once!” Eddie punched Bill’s shoulder. 

“Eddie, it’s funny come on…” Stanley said through tears in his eyes.

Eddie pointed at Stanley, “JUDAS!” Everyone’s laughter got stronger.

“That’s it, I’m going to make this weekend unbearable for all of you. You think Richie and I were gross earlier? Just wait.” Eddie turned forward and opened the map harshly to make sure they were on the right track. “Beware my revenge bitches.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Richie asked poking Eddie's side. Everyone had quieted down a little at Eddie’s threat but were still cracking up.

Eddie frowned, “No, you’ll take my PDA and like it.”

“Fine by me, my jawbreaker.”

“Gross, I hate you.”

“Whatever you say, sweet tart.”

[decembercamiecherries]

how much blood do i have to give you for more MxH

ahahhahahaha none, actually XDDDD

This is……a scene from their first date :3 (we’re actually really close to this part in the actual fic series on ao3 but here’s a short drabble anyway)

Links:

BEAUTIFUL fanart by emthimofnight that sparked this whole au

Miraculous x Hunter tag with other drabbles, asks, etc & the ao3 series page

Killua threw back his head and laughed, eyes sparkling like stars in a midnight blue sky. “Gon, this is getting out of control, you can’t keep winning stuffed animals for me!”

“I want to, though!” Gon chirped as he skipped happily at Killua’s side. He couldn’t help but be happy- he was bursting with the feeling, nearly overwhelmed by intensity of it. He couldn’t remember ever being this swept away before, not even with Chat, and it was because of Killua he was feeling this way at all.

All because Killua had said yes. He said yes and now Gon felt like he could fly.

(And technically he could do that as Ladybug, but it was too soon to tell Killua that he was secretly one of Yorknew’s superheros. Gon just wanted to enjoy this moment with Killua right here, right now.)

Gon refocused on Killua, cheeks warming at the tender look Killua was giving him. Butterflies fluttered to life inside his chest, his heart skipping a beat and soaring into the air.

“You need a souvenir to remember our first date, Killua,” Gon said teasingly and Killua rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous, as if I’d ever forget going out with you! This is something I’ve always….” Killua’s voice trailed off, porcelain skin turning a shade darker and glowing pink in the light of the nearby ferris wheel. 

A wide smile grew on Gon’s lips. “Aww, Killua!” He threw his arms around Killua’s shoulders and nuzzled his face into silver curls, purposefully ignoring his friend’s- his date’s- squawk of protest. “Is that your way of saying you’ve been dreaming of dating me for a while? Hmmmmm?”

“Oh, shut up,” Killua grumbled and shoved Gon off him while Gon cackled. “You’re so embarrassing, you know that? Now I’m going to have to win something for you so you always remember our first date.”

“I’d never forget our first date!” Gon parroted back immediately.

“A challenge, then.” Killua smirked and Gon’s pulse slowly started to climb. He felt hot and breathless as Killua leaned in close, breath smelling sweet like cotton candy-

“Lets see who can win the most stuffed animals by the end of the night,” Killua proposed. 

Gon dared to take a step closer. He didn’t bother keeping the excitement out of his voice when he asked, “And what would I win?”

Killua’s blush deepened and darkened but he didn’t back down. It really was cute how Killua tried to stay all calm and cool, even as he became so flustered from Gon’s simple question. “Wh-who said you’d win, huh? You think it’s going to be easy? What if I win?”

“I’m going to win. I’m going to get you the biggest, best stuffed animal there is-”

“You’re on, Freecss,” Killua said with a sharp grin and for a moment Gon was seeing Chat instead of his childhood friend- the silver hair, flashing electric blue eyes and smirk were too similar for Gon not to be reminded of his crime-fighting partner.

Gon pushed the image out of his mind. He wasn’t here with Chat, and he didn’t want to be. He wanted to be with Killua and only Killua right now. He would always care for Chat but Killua was the person he wanted something more with.

Gon stumbled as Killua abruptly grabbed Gon’s wrist. He started to drag Gon to the right, saying loudly, “Let’s start with this! I’ve always loved dart games, there’s no way you’re gonna beat me here.” 

Killua twisted his head to look over his shoulder and gave Gon a smile- a real smile, the kind filled with honest and true joy. The kind of genuine smile that made every thought in Gon’s mind disappear and vanish into the night, the kind of smile that made Gon’s heart stop before kicking into overdrive.

It was funny, Gon thought, watching Killua as his friend excitedly asked the vendor for six darts. Chat could beat Gon with a pole and his claws, but Killua…

Killua was the one who could knock the breath right out of Gon’s lungs without ever landing a single blow.

[anarchetypalarchive]

we must be miles up

aka that ninja ship party (brian/danny) post-concert whippets fic for the wonderful @egocentrifuge‘s birthday rating: m for non-specific dick grabbing  content warning for recreational drug use (nitrous), unironic use of the word ‘tubular,’ and excessive pining on ao3 excerpt:

“Hi,” Danny says, like he doesn’t have his arms full of bright, neon-colored balloons. “How was your shower?”

“Did you rob a clown,” Brian says flatly.

“I have drugs!” Danny singsongs in reply, stepping into the room and letting the balloons tumble out of his arms and go rolling in random directions.

“Are those drugs LSD, and did you take them ten minutes ago?”

Danny laughs at him and scoops up one of the balloons, pops it into the air in Brian’s direction. “No— The concert, remember? You were asking about whippets. And here they are. I made whippets appear. I’m the goddamn whippet king.”

“Ah,” Brian says, letting the door swing shut and catching the balloon before it hits the floor. “I remember. And then I said, ‘after the concert, why don’t you go out in your boxers and buy drugs?’ That was my favorite part of the conversation.”

“These are indeed my drug-buying boxers,” Danny says, agreeably and without hesitation.

Look, Brian is—Brian is hip with the kids, okay?

Really. He spends most of his days playing video games and writing songs about dicks. He regularly performs for crowds of twenty-somethings. He has an instagram.

But sometimes—very occasionally, once in a blue moon—he has to outsource information about hip things to somebody more knowledgeable.

Unfortunately, that somebody is usually Danny.

Danny is, somehow, the youngest old person Brian knows—which is some hell of a feat, honestly, because he includes himself in that list of young-old people.

Meaning Danny regularly squeals with unbridled joy over Skittles, and Danny is incapable of encountering a chair or couch without sitting on it sideways or backwards or upside down, and one time Danny pushed aside a room of eight year olds to get a turn at hitting a Dora the Explorer piñata, and then again to grab several handfuls of cheap dollar store candy.

But Danny is...worldly, or whatever, and perhaps more intune with all things “cool,” not that Brian would admit it. Brian is cool. Brian is hip! He has a phD, okay, he knows things.

What he doesn’t know is why the hell a few handfuls of people in the crowd at their concert are holding inflated balloons.

They stand out like a sea of multicolored jellyfish, or like Bozo the Clown got drunk and wandered into a concert and forgot how to make balloon animals. Brian stares at them from backstage where he and Danny are waiting for the opening band to finish their set, and he wonders if this is the new version of holding up lighters or the lit screens of cell phones.

He says as much, wondering aloud, and glances over in time to see Danny blink at him in surprise before he breaks out into giggling, snorting laughter.

Brian tries to be insulted. Which is—not easy, to be honest, because mostly he’s just appreciating Danny’s face and the way he squeaks when he laughs too hard.

As it is, Danny doubles over and ends up with his ass on the stage floor, legs bent, head between his knees as he, in Brian’s frank opinion, overreacts completely to a totally reasonable question.

“You know, you’re really harshing my quest-for-knowledge mellow right now,” Brian says dryly.

Danny visibly struggles to quelch his giggles. “Sorry,” he says, not looking particularly sorry at all. “They’re, uh, balloons filled with noz, dude.”

Brian gives him a look he’s hoping isn’t as blank at it feels. “Okay.”

“Nitrous,” Danny clarifies, and then, “They’re whippets, man.”

Ah. That one hits. He wasn’t aware that shit was still popular since, hell, the early nineties. “They look like they got lost on the way to a bar mitzvah.”

“My bar mitzvah would’ve been a hell of a lot cooler if these guys showed up.” Danny pauses. “And creepier, seeing as though it was filled with a bunch of dorky twelve year-old Jews.”

“You do it before?” Brian asks, curious despite himself.

“It’s been a while. Used to at concerts and shit. It was…really fucking good, actually.” Danny’s eyes drift like he’s remembering something sublime. “Why,” he asks, reaching up and making grabby hands at the air until Brian rolls his eyes and takes his hands to haul him to his feet, “you interested?”

And that—that’s actually an interesting question. Brian’s instinct is to say no, just on the basis that huffing gas out of a gross balloon in a city he’s never been to before just feels like a less than exciting endeavor.

But the way Danny had looked in his reminiscence—that’s something to consider. And, anyway, Brian is hip, remember, he’s cool, he’s willing to entertain the idea of huffing gas out of a gross balloon in a city he’s never been to before.

“Sure,” he says, shrugging. It’s not like it’s going to happen any time soon; they’ve got a full schedule for a majority of the night. It’s not like they have time to go looking for a balloon dealer in the middle of a crowded concert.

Danny opens his mouth to respond, and then Brian registers the fading applause and the squeak of microphone feedback as their band is introduced. Danny lights up, bouncing on his feet a little. Brian smiles at the fact that Danny’s excitement over an imminent performance hasn’t lessened since their early days. If anything, it’s gotten even greater.

Then Danny’s throwing an arm around Brian’s shoulders, and they’re walking out on stage as they jostle each other in little hyping-up actions, and Brian’s half-blinded by the lights as applause fires up again, and he forgets about much of anything other than the crowd and the stage and Danny.

——

There’s an energy that remains long after the end of a successful show; it usually means Brian and Danny spend far too long meeting with fans, signing scraps of paper and fanart and random objects (a dildo, once, that was memorable) until their well-meaning manager ushers them back to their hotel. By then, they’re near-dead on their feet.

Danny’s got his arm around Brian’s shoulders again as they walk unsteadily down the hallway towards their hotel room. This time, he holds up his phone. Brian smiles tiredly until Danny explodes into an improvised thank you commentary to their fans with enough glee that he’s clearly amused at Brian’s confusion.

Brian gives Danny a small shove and steals his phone from him to add to the video, grinning as Danny swears and stumbles against the wall. They scuffle a little for the phone good-naturedly, shouting over each other at the camera (“Thank you all—” “Well, I thank you all more—” “I thank you all the most—” “Times infinity—”) until a disgruntled hotel guest throws open his door and snaps at them to shut the hell up, people are sleeping here.

The video ends with Danny giggling out an apology over his shoulder as they finally reach their room at the end of the hall.

Brian fumbles with the room key, having to slide it a few times with increasing impatience until the light turns green and he can push the door open.

And then Danny’s crashing into him from behind, shouldering past him into the room. “I call first shower!” he sings out, voice hoarse from the toils of the concert but no less delighted for it as he tosses his bag down haphazardly in the entryway, charges into the bathroom like a conquering general, and pulls the door shut behind him.

“If you think that’s going to stop me from coming in there with you,” Brian starts, struggling to keep the laughter from his voice in favor of a faux-menacing tone, and then he gives up and grins when he hears the unmistakable click of the lock of the bathroom door sliding into place. “A celebratory bro shower,” he calls out over the sound of the water turning on. “Like football players do after the big game? Probably? Dan?”

He’s mostly talking to himself at this point, moving further into the room to claim a bed. The only benefit to Dan commandeering the bathroom is that Brian can now be a supreme asshole and take the bed Dan’s going to want—the one closest to the door, farthest from the AC, because Danny always ends up freezing his skinny ass off in hotels.

That might have something to do with the fact that Brian turns the air down to ‘Hypothermia for Dan’ levels on the totally legitimate pretense of it being scientifically better for the health of specifically and only your balls if you sleep in the cold.

(“You can’t use your PhD in fucking theoretical physics as an excuse to pretend to be an expert in everything,” Danny complained once.

Brian had taken that as a personal challenge and then, well, here they were.)

So Brian takes the bed closest to the door, farthest from the AC, and tosses his duffel bag down before he collapses onto the plush sheets. He’s still buzzing with post-concert adrenaline, with the two encore performances that had left Danny with a hoarse voice but grinning wide, the both of them squinting against the stage lights out into the crowd as the final strains of “Wish You Were Here” drifted out and bled into applause that rumbles and hums in the center of his chest even now.

This is Brian’s life.

Yellow light from the parking lot filters in through the thin curtains, and maybe it’d feel tepid, lonely, if not for the muted white noise of the shower running and steam rolling under the crack of the bathroom door and Danny’s gentle humming, changing keys on a whim with little hoarse post-show voice cracks that shouldn’t be so endearing.

This is Brian’s life and it’s surreal, sometimes more so in the gentle aftermath of a concert than in the heat of one.

Not that the shows don’t have their moments. Danny gets so caught up in the energy sometimes that it’s like his emotions can’t stay within him. More often than not, that manifests as Danny sprinting across stage to wrap Brian in a bear hug after their final song and kissing him so hard on the cheek Brian thinks—hopes, sometimes—it’ll bruise.

But Brian remembers the first time, early this year, that Danny’s traditional end-of-show kiss landed directly on his mouth.

There’s a photo some fan took that’s made its rounds on social media—it’s the split second after Danny kisses him and pulls away: there’s the blur of Danny bouncing back to center stage, and there’s Brian, wide-eyed, hair mussed, mouth open slightly. During the show, he’d managed to compose himself pretty quickly, but Danny discovered the picture within a few days and was so delighted by it he still sends it to Brian sometimes.

And so now sometimes Danny half-tackles him at the end of shows and ambushes him with a kiss—a real one.

And it’s—it has to be an adrenaline thing, a celebratory thing, a raw energy reactionary thing, because Danny never makes a big deal out of it and it never lasts more than a fraction of a second and he never mentions it after.

And Brian doesn’t ask about it.

And it’s fine.

It’s just a thing they do.

Brian kicks off his shoes and lets them drop from the bed to the floor as he tugs his phone from his pocket, pulls up the Instagram app to watch the comments start pouring in on the video they just uploaded.

One day, maybe he’ll get used to their popularity and the virtually instant feedback it provides, the outpouring of support and love; for now he smiles at the generic i wish i could’ve been there! comments, the i was there and it was fucking incredible, the come to my city next!

He huffs out a laugh at someone’s i’m calling the police. danny’s making me confused about my sexuality and can’t really stop himself from typing out a quick Get in line in response.

A few minutes later, he rolls his eyes at someone’s reply of Danny and Brian sitting in a tree, F-U-C-K-I -N-G. Rolls his eyes harder when he sees the comment came from Ross.

He’s about to reply to that, really gearing up for a stupid, satisfying back-and-forth, when a rush of steam billows out from the bathroom as Danny pushes the door open. He emerges from the cloud of steam, skin wet and flushed from the heat of his shower.

Brian is, somewhere in the back of his mind, aware that he’s staring—and, fuck, he’s never going to learn any better than this, is he; he’s never going to end up anywhere but here, watching Danny like he’s on the outside looking in, like Danny’s not tangible for him, like the way he looks at theorems he can’t touch.

Danny catches Brian staring and grins, striking a dramatic pose that nearly dislodges his towel and almost gives Brian a fucking heart attack. “How do I look, stud?”

“Like a demented Towel Wizard,” Brian deadpans.

“You’re goddamn right I do,” Danny says proudly, pulling a shirt on over his head. He drops his towel to pull on a pair of boxers, and Brian—doesn’t pretend to leer, doesn’t make a joke, just glances away and doesn’t look back until Danny’s towel hits him in the back of the head.

Brian snorts and finally hauls himself out of bed, gently shouldering Dan out of the way and tossing the towel on top of Danny’s damp poof of hair as he goes to take his own shower. “If you used up all the hot water, the police will never find your body.”

“Uh. I gotta— I gotta go, you know what, we need ice, I’m gonna go get ice.” Danny’s laughing as he ducks out of reach of Brian’s annoyed, swatting hands and grabs the ice bucket before darting out of the room barefooted.

The only consolation for the lukewarm shower is that he’s almost positive Danny left without grabbing his copy of the room key, and Brian’s not going to be in a hurry to finish showering to let him back in when he has to do the Knock of Shame.

Surprisingly, Brian gets in and out of the shower with no sign of Danny returning, and it’s only when he emerges from the bathroom with his hair wet and plastered down to his head that he hears—well, not a knock. It sounds more like Dan is kicking the door.

“Property damage,” Brian calls out, and takes his sweet time letting him in, throwing on an undershirt and a pair of sweatpants and fuck you, Ninja Brian likes to go commando sometimes.

He’s not expecting to open the door and see Danny with his arms full of bright, neon-colored balloons.

“Hi,” Danny says, like he doesn’t have his arms full of bright, neon-colored balloons. “How was your shower?”

“Did you rob a clown,” Brian says flatly.

“I have drugs!” Danny singsongs in reply, stepping into the room and letting the balloons tumble out of his arms and go rolling in random directions.

“Are those drugs LSD, and did you take them ten minutes ago?”

Danny laughs at him and scoops up one of the balloons, pops it into the air in Brian’s direction. “No— The concert, remember? You were asking about whippets. And here they are. I made whippets appear. I’m the goddamn whippet king.”

“Ah,” Brian says, letting the door swing shut and catching the balloon before it hits the floor. “I remember. And then I said, ‘after the concert, why don’t you go out in your boxers and buy drugs?’ That was my favorite part of the conversation.”

“These are indeed my drug-buying boxers,” Danny says, agreeably and without hesitation.

And, alright, sure, Brian had asked about the balloons, had expressed interest in trying inhalants—he’d try anything with Dan, the definition of succumbing to peer pressure, the archetype of the teenager doing anything to get a smile from his crush, and it’s not like he’s a goddamn straightedge, hello.

He just imagined getting high with Dan for the first time to look like—fuck if he knows, just something different than a dark, strange hotel room in a dark, strange city, balloons floating in air-conditioning flurries over the carpet.

Danny ducks down and scoops up a bright green balloon, reaches out and bobs Brian gently on the head with it. “So. You ready for this, Daddy-Mack?” he asks, which—that’s not really fair, actually, because aside from the fact that daddy just came out of Danny's mouth, whatever the form, Brian’s still trying to psyche himself up.

You have to give a man the proper psyching up timeslot before encouraging him to inhale copious amounts of nitrous. That’s just polite.

What Brian intends to do is give a deadpanned intonation of “You better believe it, baby.”

He’s pretty sure what he actually ends up doing is giving Danny a deer-in-the-headlights look and blurting, “What.”

This is because Danny blinks at him in surprise, and his tone is concerned when he asks, “You’re not, like, nervous, are you?” which basically makes Brian want to go outside onto the balcony and find out if it’s possible to die from a fall from the fourth floor.

He struggles to save face, to smooth things over with sarcasm. “Nervous? Who’s nervous? Frankly, it sounds like you’re just accusing me of being nervous because you’re nervous. Nice try, Avidan. Of course I’m ready. I’m cool, okay, I’m hip, I do this shit all the time. Let’s go rail a couple lines of coke after this.”

“Brian—”

“But not off of my body.”

“Brian, hey—”

“I know you want to, but this chest is just too hairy and manly, okay, it’s for your own good. We’re just going to have to kick it old school and do it off a questionably-clean bathroom counter.”

“No, hey, c’mon,” Danny says soothingly. “It’s okay that you’re nervous. It’s like you’re actually being honest for once.”

And Danny says it to make him feel better, Brian knows, and he wants to feel better, but for some reason it’s frustrating.

He wants to say, That’s not me—the fear, I’m not that, I’m just standing here behind it wishing I could kiss you.

Instead, he says, “I resent the implication that I’m not always one hundred percent genuine with you at all times.”

Danny snorts. “Yeah, okay, Captain Deflection.”

“Hey, don’t get all psychoanalytical on me. Which one of us has the PhD here?”

“You can’t use that as an excuse to pretend to be an expert on—oh my god, never mind, forget it, can we just do drugs now.”

“Just a minute; I have to update our Twitter. ‘About to suck down mass quantities of nitrous and also dick.’”

“No— No, give me your phone, dude!”

The scuffle for Brian’s phone ends with a balloon clinging to Danny’s hair via static electricity, Brian half buried under pillows and bedding, and the Twitter update reading About to suck mass quantities of dick, so Brian counts it as a win overall.

“You suck,” Danny informs him, reaching up to grab the balloon and pull it from his hair.

“Mass quantities of dick,” Brian reads from his phone agreeably, nodding. “The internet doesn’t lie, Danny.”

“I hate you.”

“Duly noted. Are we going to do drugs now, or do you want to keep putting them in your hair?”

“Don’t say drugs in that stupid voice, holy shit, you make it sound like we’re doing high-quality crystal meth.”

“And yet we’re doing cheap-ass inhalants, which, frankly, I find insulting. I’m not a cheap date, Daniel.”

Danny looks at him fondly. And that—that’s been happening a lot, the ‘Danny responding to flirting with anything other than exasperation or awkwardness’ thing. Brian’s not sure how to handle it. It’s easy to flirt with Danny until Danny stops taking it as a joke.

“Aw,” Danny coos, jumping into bed with Brian and bopping him with the balloon. “I’m sorry. You’re right, baby. Lemme buy you something nice.”

“I want a statue of a dick in my own likeness created with pure crystal meth,” Brian says dully, batting at Danny’s hands before he can get hit on the nose with the balloon again. Jesus, maybe he is Captain Deflection.

“We could probably make a song based on that,” Danny says thoughtfully, his eyes doing that middle-distance thing they do when he’s thinking of possible song titles.

His fingers are working at the knot of the balloon in his hands, and Brian’s gaze is drawn to them the way it always is when Danny’s fiddling with something, unable to keep from watching the pads of his lithe fingers brush against the rubber, his blunt nails tugging at the knot.

God, he wants those fingers in his mouth.

“Ninja Brian’s Crystal Dick!” Danny bursts out suddenly, triumphantly, and Brian startles, torn from his reverie.

He manages to laugh, shaking his head. “I’ll add it to the list.” Along with ‘Ninja Brian Regularly Thinks About Sucking on Danny Sexbang’s Fingers and That’s Not Something He Should Be Thinking About A Coworker, Probably.’

Danny finally manages to work the knot free, and his thumb and forefinger pinch the opening of the balloon closed. “Alright, you watch me first.”

Brian looks at him dubiously. “Right,” he says, “otherwise I might get confused and try to stick the balloon up my ass.”

Danny laughs and bops him with the balloon again. “So stupid,” he mutters. “Just watch, okay?”

Brian puts his hands up in surrender and slides back on the bed until he’s sitting with his back against the headboard. “Teach me, oh great Whippets Guru. Should I take notes? Do you have a PowerPoint?”

Danny’s already bringing the balloon to his mouth, fitting his lips tight over the opening. He flips Brian off with his free hand and then appears to let out the air in his lungs through his nose before he inhales deeply from the balloon. He pauses, then breathes back out into the balloon before inhaling again. He does this a couple more times, each breath getting more shallow, and then he pulls away, pinching the opening closed with shaky fingers as he holds his breath.

His face is flushed, and his eyes flutter closed.

Brian realizes he’s sitting silently, still, attention rapt. He swallows. “Danny?”

A few long seconds pass before Dan lets out the breath in a shuddery exhale. His first breaths of real air come in short, shaky gasps, and when he opens his eyes, they’re glazed over slightly, almost unseeing.

He looks—he looks like he’s waking up from a wet dream, or being tenderly asphyxiated, or coming, and either way Brian’s holding his breath and aware that he’s half-hard in his sweatpants.

Going commando feels, abruptly, like it had been a bad idea.

“Fuck,” Danny says, voice thin and breathy. His gaze lands on Brian as it clears, and he smiles dreamily, contently, the way you’d smile at a lover.

Brian is going to die.

“You okay?” he croaks out.

“God, yeah, I’m... I forgot how good that is.” He twists around a little where he’s sat and then reaches down to snag another balloon off the floor. “Your turn,” he says cheerfully, holding the balloon out to Brian.

“I mean, I—could just watch you again. That was—informative,” Brian says, stilted.

Danny laughs. “C’mon, dude. Time for baby bird to take flight.”

“Why are your metaphors so weird.”

“Just take the stupid balloon,” Danny commands, brandishing it half an inch from Brian’s nose until Brian snorts and takes it.

“Peer pressure turned me into a drug addict,” he intones, grinning when Dan swats at him. He fumbles with the knot of the balloon for a minute until he finally manages to free it up, and some of the gas escapes for a fraction of a second before he manages to pinch the opening shut.

“Don’t overdo it,” Danny says seriously. “You’re gonna get lightheaded, but stop when you feel like you need to. There’s nobody to impress here.” He pauses, smiles impishly. “‘Specially since I’m never impressed by you.”

Brian cheerfully gives him the bird and only hesitates for a second before he bows his head to take the opening into his mouth. He keeps his lips tight, not letting any of the gas escape until he’s ready, and then he follows Danny’s example as well as he can remember.

He lets his breath out through his nose slowly, like he’s doing the opposite of pre-show breathing exercises, and then he inhales.

The gas comes in quicker than he expects, and it takes a moment to figure out the right amount of tension to keep so he’s not overwhelmed.

It’s a bit anti-climactic, not that he really knows exactly what to expect—just like taking in air that doesn’t manage to satisfy the beginnings of a burn in his lungs, the ache for oxygen.

He looks at Danny, who gestures encouragingly.

The burn increases when he breathes in again, and then it happens abruptly, where he suddenly wants to gasp for breath, his brain sending signals that something’s not right, that he’s breathing but it’s not giving him any air.

A fuzzy sort of hum seems to shoot up from his chest into his head, the breathlessness blossoming into an intense head rush, all the small sounds of the hotel room going loud and reverberating, like he’s standing too close to a concert speaker taller than he is.

It turns into something all-encompassing, something more like a rushing tremble that goes straight back into his chest, into his heart.

Brian pulls away from the balloon to gasp desperately and shuts his eyes. Warmth buzzes into his fingertips, and he’s vaguely aware of his hands twitching minutely, and fractal patterns spread outward in a variety of mixing, spilling colors behind his eyes.

It’s almost overwhelming.

He realizes, belatedly, that he’s shaking, that it’s hard to catch his breath, that he’s opening his eyes and seeing without seeing, that when he finally focuses in on Danny that Danny is watching him with faint concern and fondness and—

“Brian,” Danny says. “Hey, Bri, look at me, you’re fine.”

And Brian does look at him, and it’s practically second nature to match the rhythm of Danny’s carefully controlled breathing.

And then—then Brian’s not entirely sure he’s not dreaming, because Danny leans in and cups a hand around the back of Brian’s neck and draws him in to kiss him slowly and deeply.

(Later, Brian will realize that Danny is probably working to coax Brian to match his breathing, to get him to stop hyperventilating and to enjoy the high, but for now—)

As Brian gasps for breath against Danny’s mouth, he’s relieved, somehow, that Danny has kissed him for the first time (truly kissed him, teeth and tongue and no applauding crowd to distract him from it) just after they’ve both inhaled nitrous—it gives him the excuse to be breathless, to be wide-eyed and slack-mouthed and staring at Danny like he's born technicolor in a grayscale universe.

Brian doesn’t want it to end, but eventually Danny breaks away, leaving Brian’s lips buzzing, the rush gradually cooling down. “So?” he asks, smiling at him fondly from where they’re touching foreheads and breathing hard. “What’s your consensus, cool guy?”

“Tubular,” Brian breathes out, dazed and grasping for Danny with weak hands.

Danny blinks once and then bursts into soft laughter, nose scrunching, eyes creasing up. Brian can’t really force himself to be insulted, not when Danny looks as incredible and addicting as he does. “Yeah,” Danny giggles, taking Brian’s hands in his own, pads of his thumbs rubbing at the backs of Brian’s hands like a worry stone, like a security blanket. “Yeah, it is.”

Brian’s pretty sure he’s in love.

“You kissed me,” he says stupidly.

Danny blinks at him. “Yeah,” he says, a small smile tugging at his mouth, like he’s amused. “Further bulletins as events warrant, Reporter Brian?”

Brian gestures vaguely in a way he hopes conveys what the fuck but probably just comes across like I have no fine motor control! “You kissed me,” is what his brain offers up, like a broken record.

Danny’s starting to look somewhat concerned. “Yeah,” he says again, slower. “I kissed you earlier tonight. And, like, last month.”

“Those don’t count,” Brian tells him, and he’s starting to get frustrated, because Danny knows this, of course he knows this, he has to know this.

Dan smiles again, but this time it’s confused. “What do you mean, those don’t count?”

“I mean—” Brian breaks off with an annoyed sound. “I mean they don’t count, Danny, what the hell— Those are just, they’re, you’re just...celebrating,” he says.

Danny’s frowning now. “Says who?”

“Says—” Brian breaks off again, brow knitting. He stares at Danny, trying to understand.It’s like a physics problem he’s stuck on—all the evidence is there, but he just can’t see the answer. “Says… I don’t know. You never make a big deal out of it. I just figured...”

“What was there to make a big deal out of?” Danny asks, looking bewildered. “I like you. I wanted to kiss you. You never make a big deal out of it, either. Figured you were cool with it.”

“I am cool with it,” Brian says hastily, mind working feverishly to catch up. “I am— I’m the coolest with it, I am ice cold with it, trust me, I have no complaints.” He pauses when he realizes Dan’s starting to laugh. “Alright, well, that’s not necessary, it was an easy mistake to make—”

“Shhh.”

Brian blinks. “Did you just shush me?” he demands, incredulous. “Did you just—”

“Shhh,” Danny hushes again, eyes still creased with amusement as he leans in.

He’s not expecting the warm press of Danny’s mouth against his own again.

A faint noise rises unbidden in him, and he hesitates, caught up in the fact that Danny is kissing him for the second time, hesitates because he’s not supposed to be so lucky, hesitates because he’s expecting to wake up.

He feels the wet heat of Danny’s tongue tease at his lower lip, and instinct kicks in: his mouth opens, and he tips his head to make the angle better, allow them both to press in closer. He’s breathless again soon in the best way, like he’s high again but better, because Danny’s nudging his legs apart and shifting into his lap and letting his hand slide from his jaw down to his neck, his collarbone, his chest.

He hears an embarrassing, protesting sound and staunchly refuses to believe it comes from his own mouth, except he’s definitely trying to pull Danny in again as he breaks away, and Danny’s definitely laughing at him again.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you,” Danny says solemnly.

Brian stares. “What.”

“You know,” Danny stage-whispers, wide-eyed. “In your state. You’ve been doing drugs, Brian.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Brian says, and their next kiss is punctuated with Dan’s laughter.

He’s content to do this for hours, making out with (mostly) innocent roaming hands like necking teenagers; he’s so overwhelmed by just this, by his luck, that he’s not expecting more.

He nearly chokes when Danny slides a hand under the waistband of his sweatpants.

“Why am I surprised you’re not wearing any underwear,” Danny hums in between open-mouthed kisses along Brian’s jawline.

“That’s purely coincidence. Also, not that I’m complaining, but why is your hand—on my dick,” he strangles out suddenly when Danny’s hand shifts.

Danny pulls away to look at him. “Well, Brian,” he says, “sometimes, when two assholes love each other very much—”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, do you want me to draw you a diagram, or.”

“Shut up, I meant— I didn’t know you wanted more than…” He gestures.

Danny looks fondly amused. “Can we just set a blanket statement that I want to do conceivably everything with you?”

Brian has to admit that feels fucking incredible to hear.

Still: “Conceivably anything?”

Danny’s expression is wary. “Yes?”

“Raising alpacas in South America?”

“What.”

“Melting down twenty-thousand dollars worth of quarters to make life-sized metal busts of ourselves?”

“What is happening here.”

“Stealing those gay penguins from that zoo and smuggling them back to Antarctica.”

Danny kisses him again, presumably to shut him up, but it’s a kiss with fondness and intent and wandering hands with a destination—

And Brian can’t really find it in himself to complain.

[sobdasha]

so we rented Promare and

wow that movie is a

fucking trip

it is not a movie it is an experience

(it was not at all like that the second time around and I’m not sure if that is better or worse...???)

a Highly Experimental Style of having idek how much conflict you can shove in one movie, which we kept pausing to guess plot twists about 5 seconds before they happened, which is why it took us like 4 hours to watch the movie, anyway here’s a recounting of our watch:

- less than 10 minutes in: “uhhh I know I should give it time to get good but this does get better, right??” “IDK literally no one on twitter said why they liked it, they just said they loved it go watch it and drew fanart of a person we haven’t seen yet, maybe it’ll get good when we find that protagonist?? Maybe they set this fire and we’ll meet them soon?”

- prediction: “surprise, mystery protag is Big Boss”

- 1) nailed it

- “Not exactly a criticism but this is very 90s cartoon”

- prediction: “Galo’s going to have to break Lio out of jail”

- 2) Bad guy terrorists are actually victims of discrimination/genocide

- prediction: “Lio planned to get captured on purpose??”

- Teenage Mutant Pizza Turtles scene. Also I couldn’t remember anyone’s names because I hadn’t turned on subtitles to go with the English track yet so we have Old Time Cop Show Guy, Gonzo from Spirit Tracks, Ice-cold Megane guy, Feral Scientist Entrapta, Misty, okay I did learn Galo’s name. Also what’s that guy from Teen Titans, Cyborg?? We have Evil Cyborg and All Might as well.

- prediction: “Galo’s all like ‘I love my dad Gov!’ so Gov is def. gonna be evil, he’s secretly corrupt and actually supporting Burnish discrimination”

- prediction: “Pizza guy is Burnish”

- nailed it

- prediction: “Aina’s sister is very sad looking she’s secretly a Burnish, this is also why Aina is so pro-Burnish-rights”

- Discrimination/racism/immigration/marginalization commentary, “Maybe twitter liked the movie so much because it tackles current topics??”

- missed opportunity: “Wait wtf is under the ice? ....hm I guess that’s just how the art style is. It’s probably nothing after all.”

- Het ship kiss time

- Kiss of life, “Lio is too OP”

- “Oh okay my bad I guess it was funerary rites instead????”

- prediction: “now that his ideals are challenged Galo will have a big anguished ethical dilemma re: dad Gov and Lio’s accusations”

- 3) okay or he’ll not be conflicted at all and just confront dad Gov immediately I guess

- why does the volcano look like a demon, is that relevant

- 4) Volcanopocalypse now

- 5) Space travel, complete with Space Whales

- 6) Gov isn’t even pretending not to be evil

- prediction: “Wait is Gov actually Burnish??”

- prediction: Okay no Lio will rescue Galo instead then

- “We’re literally already sacrificing everyone on earth except 10,000 people I hand-selected as being worthy, are you seriously balking at the fact that we’re going to torture some Burnish sacrifices to do so.”

- 7) “We knew you got captured on purpose so we let you escape on purpose dumbass, we outplayed you”

- prediction: “Okay so they just shoot an Absolute Zero Bullet into the volcano to freeze the magma and end the apocalypse!!! ........................... actually that’s probably super bad for the Earth’s core and will cause another natural disaster apocalypse but that’s a battle for another day...??”

- prediction: “um okay Heris/Elis will break Galo out??”

- prediction: Aina won’t get on the ship, forcing Heris/Elis to sabotage the launch

- 8) Epic dragon final confrontation, complete with YGO psychotic faces. “....WAIT WE’RE LITERALLY ONLY HALFWAY THROUGH THE MOVIE WHAT. THE FUCK????”

- prediction: Galo will have to chill Lio out

- “What...is in Gov’s fist... NEVERMIND Galo SMASH”

- punching out your feelings YYH style

- prediction: They’re gonna evaporate that whole lake

- 9) “WHAT THE FUCK THERE WAS A SECRET COMPLEX IN THE ICE THE WHOLE TIME???? YOU CAN’T INTRODUCE THIS MANY MAJOR PLOTS TWISTS IN ONE MOVIE THIS IS NOT HOW DRAMATIC STRUCTURE WORKS”

- Welp Aina’s definitely missed the launch now

- 10) that one gif from the History Channel, because “It was aliens all along.”

11) DEUS X MACHINA, THEY REALLY JUST FUCKIN WENT THERE “I literally can’t tell if this movie is self-aware or not but either way this is the best scene in the entire movie”

- “You’re not chosen ones this is literally just a convenient deus ex machina shoved in here to help resolve the plot DEUS OUT”

- “Is he dead?” callback

- “Why...are you questioning if Gov killed Deus...he literally gave a speech about making hard decisions, is murdering the majority of the population of Earth, also the Burnish, etc, how is the death of this one man the moral tipping point.”

- prediction: “GENOCIDE. CULTIVATION. BEAM. Okay Gov is LYING about the other planet, he just needs it as an excuse so he can build the warp drive in the space ship, so he can kill the Burnish, so the whole world will be covered in lava, which turns to rock, which he will turn to farmland once he brings the ship back down and becomes CAPITALIST DICTATOR OF THE WORLD.”

- Blue Eyes White Dragon, x4

- 12) Heris sabotages the ship

- Did....did Gov just fire an Absolute Zero Bullet into the volcano as literally an afterthought that has zero effect on the plot????

- 13) Gov is Burnish

- prediction: “I just realized, we haven’t seen Aina in ages. Jump, Heris! Your sis will catch you on her hovercraft!”

- nailed it

- “Now he’s performing CPR....callback to the kiss of life...?”

- 14) “Callback to the kiss of life!! ..................this is.....a very long kiss.....”

- “no pyro!!!”

- “Wait did he....I swore Lio had his shirt on while they were making out...??”

- “Get in loser we’re going firefighting!”

- “So the cloud forms a heart before they start Drifting in their giant robot...”

- 15) “I don’t understand...did we apocalypse the earth? Did we avert it? Is the earth destroyed? is the earth fine? was the earth entirely renewed? what was the plot resolution here??????”

- “WHAT IS THE RESOLUTION WITH GOV????? WHAT????”

- “We thought this movie was addressing deep issues and then promptly waterskiing over them, but it turns out it was aliens all along and now they’re gone so uh what the hell kind of allegory is that.”

In summation, we have no idea if it was good or not. The first time around the sound was mixed extremely poorly with loud battle scenes, excessive shouting, and not being able to understand anyone (forcing me to turn on subtitles while watching in English), which weirdly wasn’t so bad the second time around.

Promare might have been good and deep if it had like 10 fewer plot twists and allowed the remaining 5 time to breath and reflect on their implications. Character stuff would have been interesting to see explored. TBH this probably would have been an amazing anime series and we might not have minded the aliens plot twist then.

On the other hand, it’s fun, watching it twice in a row was actually fun, and whatever reviewer the roomie found who said it was “not campy” was lying out their ass, we nearly died of all the gay innuendoes to be had. And the art is pretty cool.