#mikey this fucking sucks. im really disappointed in you guys

[winderlylandchime]

First of i would like to apologize because unfortunately i have to sent this in two parts.. the hetero brother was on a roll. Anyway 1/2:

I legit walked into the living room to find my brother standing with the intro paused and him going ‘cmon loser, we got work to do!’ So here is the 2x02 report: ‘oh he’s going to Brian?! That’s right Jenny Jen, you are not stopi- wait THATS THE FUCKE- oh it’s a dream, we’re good! I mean he isn’t but boy, i was worried for a sec, oh poor baby! Wait, he hates being touched, i forgot! But he hugged my-i mena our man Bri Bri!’ ‘OH ITS MY BOY BRI BRI! oh damn i forgot that no more David means Michael stays..ugh, you win some you lose some’ that’s where I wanted to give a helping hand to Mikey so i said well technically he is one of the leads and he immediately scoffed at me and went ‘i think me, Brian and Justin would like to disagree with that terribly inaccurate statement, now shush!’ He is once again groaning at Mikey ‘really dude?! I mean i hate you but come on! And of course he liked dancing with Justin! Who wouldnt? i need him gone. Either the writers did a great job at writing him annoying and he’s really good at acting OR the guy sucks and im picking up on his vibesss either way, stop it’ ‘duty as a father to build a swing set? Wait..did we have a swing set? I gotta talk to dad about that bc he never got us a swing!’ He is currently very sad over the Jen/Deb scene but hes still mad at Jen so he keeps scoffing at her. ‘that’s right Deb! Someone else! BRIAN! FFS! Not after what happened?! Was Brian the one swinging the bat? No. if there was no Brian, justin would be dead! And WHY IS DEBBIE NOT CALLING HER OUT ON HER BLAMING BRIAN?! WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE PROTECTING HIM?! This is a very hard job for me! It’s only my 5th day here and I’m on drugs and in pain. But fuck it, Bri Bri needs me! Hit play again, im ready’ and we got to the loft scene and he hid under his hands bc it’s just like the dream. ‘Wait it’s my man Bri!! Oh no! Oh no! justin this isnt him talking to you! It’s your mothers fault. He wants you there i swear he told me himself, i mean not really but like the way he looked at you in the last episode said everything, you just didnt see it bc they had you looking away in the script’ (is this the point where i start worrying about his mental state?) ‘OH HE FIGURED IT OUT! He knows its your fault jenny! My boy took a bat to his head but he still knows that 1+1= his mom being a lil bitch. OH SHIT IS SHE OKAY? Damn i feel conflicted now, nvm she’s okay’. My favorite part is now coming up that ive been dying to see his reaction to and ofc it did not disappoint ‘OH ITS JEN! And my boy BRI! Now what does she want? She wants a favor? What is he red cross? She wants him to TAKE HIM? Take him where? Like take him to LA (narrators note: bless his heart) or like what? What other way can he be taken? What is she sayin- thank you Bri for asking bc she wasn’t listening to me! “Standing there helpless, do you know what it feels like?” GIRL IS WATER WET?! OFC HE KNOWS HE WATCHED HIM ALMOST DIE! Jenny what are you saying touch him, make more sen-oh wait..oh no, oh wait is she asking him to fuck Justin?! JENNY IS THAT WHAT YOURE ASKING?….do you think mom would pimp me out like that? Although the last date she set me up on the girl started praying before eating (cue me saying i mean thats not THAT bad) IT IS WHEN ITS IN MCDONALDS.. she wants him to fuck him oh god, i mean I’m down and so are they! Lets go..im tired’

Okay dear sweet anon and brother anon. I just got to my office and I have TEARS streaming down my face from laughing so hard. Luckily, my office is therapy office so there are tissues. I gotta pull myself together.

I’m going to post your messages without comment because I go into back to back meetings soon and I cannot without them from the world.

So 1/3.

[billhaderlovebot]

beep beep (2) - richie tozier

okay, mentions of sex, weed, and as usual, language that would make my grandmother disown me. some horror-typical blood stuff. enjoy.

@the-star-above-you @ceruleanrainblues

had it not been for richie's incredible, rugged good looks and sex appeal, as he had so tactfully put it, you were sure you would have tried to fucking murder the guy at least once, because he was infuriating at the best of times.

you'd never actually made an attempt on his life, of course, but now, as he tried to peel away from you and get out of the bed that wasn't a single but not quite big enough for two people, you almost killed him, hissing at him to lay the fuck back down right now we might die today i haven't seen you for like half my life you asshole cuddle me right now, richard.

richie, of course, as he hadn't ever been able to say no to you, smirked and shifted to lay back down, resuming the earlier position in which your limbs had become not unlike that thing where your headphones get all knotted in your bag and you can't figure out how to separate them.

"that's what i thought." you huffed, leaning up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

this was almost surreal. being back here, and with the same man you left behind. it was like, the whole time you'd been apart, you'd only been half a person. and now you were back and he was holding you and you were one whole, functioning person again because he was your other half.

"i was just thinking, yknow." richie voiced, pressing a kiss of his own to your temple. "about, uh, your husband."

"i fucking hope not. that's not good bedroom etiquette, tozier, bedding a girl and then fantasising about her husband."

"shut up," he laughed. "no, i mean, you're... married." he noticeably recoiled at the word, and you visualised the nose-scrunch, because he was definitely scrunching his nose right now. god, you loved him so much.

"i noticed."

"yeah, but, babe, this isn't a very married thing to be doing, is it?" richie gestured to the bedclothes, which you were both very naked underneath, and also his shirt, which had ended up hanging from the door handle. there was underwear strewn about the place, and you literally did not know where your pajamas had gone. oh well.

"rich, when i made the decision to come here, i made the decision to leave there." it was true. you may not have known it at the time, but the moment you left that house you were never to return.

your husband might have been calling, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about him. but any calls he made would have come through in a stream of bubbles and a faint gurgling sound, what with your phone still being back home in your bathtub. being back here just proved that this was where you were always supposed to be. with him. you slid off your wedding ring, pressing it into his palm, and it was as if a weight had been lifted.

"it's always been you, richie."

and that was enough for him.

---

bill raised his eyebrows at last night's dark purple and red hickeys that littered your throat, courtesy of a one richard tozier, before joining you where you sat in the common area. you hadn't thought to pack a turtleneck, or a scarf, at that, and so you'd have to avoid everyone's inquisitive looks and make do.

when richie emerged from the kitchen, a cup of coffee in his hand and a matching set of hickeys, bill sighed.

"th-thought so." he said.

"huh?"

"thin w-w-walls, guys."

"it's not her fault im the best she's ever had." remarked richie, winking at bill and falling onto the couch beside you. he slung an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into him, sipping his coffee.

you shrugged. "yeah, billy, and it's not his fault he hasn't had a good lay since i dumped his ass in derry."

"hey! you didn't mean to dump my ass."

"ah, but i did, nonetheless."

"fuck you." richie teased, setting his coffee down on the table so he could pretend to argue with you properly.

"no, fuck you." you shot back.

"fuck both of you." a voice, eddie's, whined from the kitchen where richie had come from and interrupted your pretend dispute. "i mean, you kept me up all fucking night, fucking each other absolutely senseless in the room next to mine, you inconsiderate assholes."

"they haven't changed, eddie." bill groaned, rolling his shoulders and leaning back on the couch.

"i know that," said eddie "but i don't think i can deal with it, they're all fucking over each other!"

you supposed eddie was right.

richie, now realising you were here and he was with you and you were both within kissing distance of each other again after over two decades, he took every opportunity to shove you against a wall or a door or a sink or on a bed and kiss you hard. a lot. a lot. seriously, he'd sprung at least four impromtu heavy makeout sessions (with tongue) on you so far and it was only your first day here.

it was like you were teenagers again.

god, if only.

"w-we need to put a plan together." bill said firmly, clasping his hands together. you had noticed his stutter had been worse since you'd left the restaurant. not as bad as when you were kids, but still there. "w-w-we need everyone here, t-together, which doesn't include you two s-sneaking off to suck face."

"but she's got such a nice face." richie whined.

"she won't if you don't get your shit together." you heard the voice of ben hanscom (or, handsome, as richie now referred to him.) as he trudged down the stairs and joined you all in the living room. "so shut up and listen in case IT decides to tear it off her."

now, that had really freaked richie out, so he shrugged in defeat and pulled you tighter to him, kissing your forehead and holding you to his chest.

"good morning to you too, ben." you yawned, circling an arm around richie's waist and allowing him to just hold you.

what? he was fucking warm, ok.

"are you guys gonna be like this the whole time?" ben queried, gratefully accepting the cup of coffee eddie had just brought out for him.

"i think it's sweet." beverly was the next to come in, ruffling the back of her hair and rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

"yeah guys, we all got hot or married, and richie got less and less familiar with his fucking shower. we should be impressed he got anywhere near her." eddie chided. a chorus of laughter arose, all of you sat around the coffee table on plush couches, and you could pretend, just for a moment, that this was all you were here for. a reunion. but you weren't.

"m-mike's meeting us later." bill explained. "we have.... stuff to do."

---

the clubhouse was almost exactly how you remembered it (save for the inch-thick layer of dust and the smell of rot and the slight water damage from what must have been 27 years of rain leaks). you'd damn near punched richie in the fucking face when he pulled that "you'll float too" bullshit. his impressions were always impeccable, but now was not the time. he'd rectified his mistake by kissing you soundly and offering one to everyone else, to which they all refused.

"reckon we could still fit?" richie echoed your own thoughts as you both stared in at the dusty old hammock you'd spent so many hours on as teenagers, nostalgia coming over you in waves.

"how much you betting, trash-mouth?" you grinned, your tongue poking out from between your teeth.

"five bucks says we can."

you looked over the stretch of fabric that ben had pinned up between the boards on the ceiling all those years ago. you could barely fit on it when you were teenagers, so there wasn't much change of it happening 20-or-so years on. "i say we can't, so, ten bucks."

"done." he said, with an air of finality, and stuck his hand out for you to shake.

"nah," you shook your head. extending your little finger instead."handshakes are for businessmen and drug dealers. pinky swear."

richie hooked his pinky around yours and flashed you his signature shit-eating grin. "get ready to cough up."

a great deal of struggling later, (richie almost bringing the fucking roof down) you were considerably warmer and ten dollars poorer. the rest of the losers stared on in disappointment because the two of you were still absolutely insane. but you had done it.

granted, you'd had to twist very close around each other to fit on, and your leg was sticking out at an odd angle, but neither of you were terribly bothered.

"ten bucks, babe."

"can't i just have sex with you?" you groaned. you hadn't brought much money with you in the first place, and you really needed a coffee and a therapeutic shop for stationary.

"how about you give me ten bucks and then i have sex with you." he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

"i think that consistutes prostitution, actually, babe." you pointed out, kissing his lips and reluctantly pressing two folded fives into his hand. "but i do expect something by way of a sexual favour later on, provided we don't die."

"guys? important stuff is going on. yknow, like, if-we-don't-do-this-we'll get-fucking-murdered stuff." you'd forgotten that the rest of them were there, and eddie had rather pulled you both out of the bubble you were existing in.

"lighten up, eds. i just got my girl back." for once, richie wasn't joking around, and the sincerity in his voice almost made you cry. eddie didn't say anything more.

but mike did. "we have to split up to find our artefacts." he chimed in, reminding you all exactly what you were there for. "we have stan's, and i have mine. you'll know what they are when you see them."

you couldn't help but feel sorry for mike. he knew so much and had everything so planned out, but at what cost? he had been waiting alone for years and years and years, knowing full well the rest of derry depended on him not giving up, even if they didn't know it themselves.

"w-we can't split." bill interjected. "it's t-too dangerous. what if one of us d-d-d-d..." he inhaled deeply, calming himself and allowing mike to put a hand on his shoulder. "what if something happens. i won't forgive myself."

"im not letting this one out of my fucking sight, mikey." richie concurred, absently drumming his fingers where they rested on your waist. "no fucking way."

"you have to do this alone. all of you." mike continued, and you knew he was right.

ben and beverly knew it, too, and had begun making their way out of the clubhouse, the maggot-eaten wood of the ladder groaning in protest underneath their feet.

"right. a-are you s-sure, mike? really?"

"positive. this is how it has to be."

------

"okay, so if you die, we can't fuck later, and i would rather like to, so, maybe don't die, please." richie was trying to make light of possibly the worst moment of his life, but it wasn't working so well, because his hands were shaking so hard that he could barely keep ahold of you.

"i'll be fine, rich." you assured him, leaning against his chest and inhaling the scent of home.

"you don't know that, y-y-you don't-- t-there's no way you can-- y-y-you're-"

you cut him off by firmly pressing your lips to his, and it did seem to calm him. the act of holding you close and feeling the rise and fall of your chest and knowing he could touch you and you were still here. you thread your fingers through the soft hair at the nape of his neck and allowed him to deepen the kiss, knowing he needed it.

he had always needed reassurance when you were kids, because he'd always been insecure or scared about something he couldn't remember. he always went to you first, because the whole vulnerable thing wasn't really his scene, and you were the only person who saw it. and his nightmares, god, the fucking nightmares. you hadn't seen him cry before until he woke up shaking in your bed, searching around for something to grab onto because he couldn't tell what was real or not. he cried for what seemed like hours in your arms and all you could do was hold him.

"you're stuttering worse than billy." you murmured, close enough so your lips just barely touched. "ill be fine."

his eyes searched yours desperately for any sort of truth, but he could tell that you weren't sure. that you were just as shit-scared as he was and you were holding it together for the both of you.

"fuck." was all he said.

"fuck." you agreed.

---

1994

---

"baby." richie's voice was practically ecstatic down the phone. you grinned and reached over to your shelf to turn your record player, and the cure, down.

"yes?"

"i have, like, the best idea ever."

"and what would that be?"

"so, yknow, i have like, a shit ton of pot."

"uh huh."

"and i haven't seen you in like, uh, like two days. which is, fuckin, two days too long, yknow."

"yeah, of course."

"so, what say you and me get really really stoned and wait for your grandmother to leave for bingo and have a lot, and i mean a lot, of high sex."

"trash-mouth tozier, i may just take you up on that." you smirked, twirling the bright red phone cord in between your fingers.

"oh, good, cause im already here."

richie's voice was now coming from your actual window.

you whirled round to see him perched on the fire escape like a fucking curly haired pigeon with a high libido.

"god, you do know how to make an entrance, rich, fuck me."

"ask, and ye shall receive." richie smirked, dropping his legs through your window. in two strides he was in front of you, pupils dilated and partly concealed by his dark curls. his glasses were almost falling off his nose.

the phone receiver dropped from your hand and clattered to the ground as you reached up to take them off, and-

oh, and then his tongue was inside your mouth, so the glasses fell and landed alongside the phone by your bare feet.

no matter how many times you kissed richie tozier, it never failed to surprise you just how fucking good he was at it. you found yourself rather at his mercy whenever his lips were on yours, his hands on your face or in your hair or your back trouser pockets. he'd always make a point of tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and oh my fucking god. wow.

"well i can't fucking see you now, can i?" he whined, pulling away and blinking hard in an attempt to adjust to you having taken his actual sight away.

you responded by reaching your hand around to his back pocket where you knew his silver zippo would be.

"and here i thought you loved me."

richie stuck his bottom lip out in mock sadness, but grinned about two seconds after, reaching into his other pocket and handing you a small zip-lock baggie.

"you know that i love you." you smiled, kissing his lips and edging round him to get to your bed.

"you do?" he asked.

"more than anything."

----

2016

----

the zippo lighter was much heavier than you remembered it, you thought, as you turned it over and over in your hands.

you flicked it open, but no flame arose. not as though you expected it to.

god, those years were the happiest of your life. after IT. when richie and yourself could be happy and in love and kids.

just two stupid kids in love.

and your heart ached now as you thought of all the lost years. all that time you could have spent with him, watching him grow, and growing alongside him.

but you were together again, and it was alright. it was alright, now.

"beep beep, richie's girl."

the voice that came from behind you caused your heart to plummet, and you swore it could have fallen out of your ass.

"oh, fuck no. you fuck right off, right fucking now." you steadied the shaking of your hands. you were not afraid. i mean, yes, you were, very much so. but you weren't letting It see you weak.

clenching your fists, you slowly turned to look at the space near the window from which the voice had come.

oh, fuck.

it was richie.

or it would have been, if it were normal for richie to have a huge slice across his throat and a considerable amount of his left arm missing.

blood poured like a fucking faucet from the slash, forming grotesque patterns where it fell across its shirt.

"help me, baby." it choked, hands coming up to the wound, trying desperately to hold it together. it fell to its knees before you and pleaded with you to fucking help me, please and then it was crying and in that moment it's eyes looked so fucking much like his that you almost threw up.

"no, fuck no." you were seriously, seriously about to vomit right now, but you weren't about to embarrass yourself in front of a supernatural evil entity.

"please." blood came spluttering from its mouth, and you had to commend it on its honest to god phenomenal acting. it wasn't a pretty sight, honestly, because richie in any form of pain was enough to make you want to tear out your eyes, even a fake richie. but this wasn't him.

"you got it wrong." you flipped the lighter open and closed absently, hoping to whatever god would listen that the shake in your voice wasn't noticeable.

the mock expression of fear disappeared from not-richie's face.

"m not fucking scared of you. you'll only hurt me if i let you, right?" you hoped to god that you were right, because it'd be pretty embarrassing if after all that, you were torn to shreds anyway.

and then it was gone. leaving behind, scrawled in fake richie's fake blood on the wall:

beep beep, richie's girl.

you had to admire the theatrics, really.

---

richie hadn't wanted to talk about his artefact, or where he had got it, and you knew better than to push him.

he looked so fucking tense, tears in his eyes, that you just wanted to hold him and never let go ever until the earth stopped spinning. but that wasn't an option, so:

"nap?" you suggested, reaching up to thread your fingers through his hair.

his eyes fluttered shut and he leaned into your touch.

"yeah. nap."

"rich?"

"yeah?"

"i love you."

"i love you more."

"fuck you."

"no, fuck you."