#one day closer to getting gay eddie on our screens

[mischiefbuckley]

SEASON 8 ALL ABOUT MY MAN EDDIE I AM SO READY

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Some Goddamn Curtains

When I was in college, I kept getting the compliment, “Wow, your room is really nice for a guy.”  I never understood what that meant for the longest time.  Then I actually paid attention to how most guys kept their dorm room. I once waited for a guy to get ready to head down to an event. I realized that I had never actually stepped foot in his room, much less even glanced inside of it. So when he stepped out and said he was ready to go, I leaned to the side over his shoulder and oh my god it was like downtown Baghdad during the worst of the Iraq War. Damn bruh, you live like this? I liked all my college roommates but the most untidiest one was in sophomore year. He left his toothbrush lying around in the open in a sock drawer, and it would end up somewhere else each night. Maybe he liked to play scavenger hunts to keep himself on his toes? He never put the DVDs back in their respective cases. I once couldn’t wait to watch Iron Man with a friend at their dorm, only to open the case once I got there and realize that my roommate had replaced it with Season 1 of Martin. He would also do this thing where he would drink a can of Coke (that I bought), not finish it, put it back in the fridge, then later open a new can of Coke that he didn’t feel like finishing, and rinse and repeat. First year roommate wasn’t that bad. Third year roommate was nearly as tidy as I was. Then in my fourth and final year I lived alone,  so my sense of the idea that “guys were messy” didn’t really hit me because I’ve only had one bad experience and chalked it up to “It was just that one guy”. I’m 31, and by now I have noticed people saying things like, “Oh my God I was actually thinking about what curtains I liked and I’m such an adult. This is what adult thinking is like. I’m adulting now.”

I hate hearing shit like that. I grew up blithely admitting liking things that an adult would “normally like”, such as curtains. The curtains thing came up in high school when I hung out at the senior lounge. The senior lounge was this bare room that looked like it was meant for old people to sit and play bingo. It was boring and dull and I hated it. It felt more lke a prison cafeteria really, with some worn out couches. I would bring my video games to that lounge, namely GoldenEye 007, to play with friends during our free period.  The room didn’t have any curtains, so at a certain time in the afternoon, the sun would beat down directly onto the screen, making it difficult to see properly. A lot of us would squint and move closer or lean forward.  I then said, “This room needs some curtains.”

A pause, and then someone replied, “Did you just say this room needs curtains?” And I was like, “Yeah. Maybe something blue. Something dark.”

And he looked at me and scoffed, and all the other guys did the same - they gave me this funny sideways glance and scoffed. I asked what the problem was, but they mostly shook their heads in disbelief. I was frankly annoyed by their response. So I said, louder, “This room needs some goddamn curtains”, because I thought it was perfectly fucking reasonable that a person would logically do something about the fucking glare from the fucking sun. Maybe they liked blinds better. Who knows? But it took me ages to fully realize two things:  1. It’s not socially acceptable for boys to be interested in style - whether it be about living spaces or clothes. I was fiercely made fun of for the clothes I wore as a kid throughout young adult life. I hated all kinds of t-shirts. I think growing up thin and gangly made me too self-aware of my arms. But I never specifically wanted to wear anything that had a band name or a company logo or even my favorite video game or movie. I would feel like a walking advertisement, and that would piss me off. I often liked ties, long-sleeved shirts, and sweaters. I never left the house in sweatpants or pajamas. I always had to comb my hair and put on a good shirt. Sweatpants were when you worked out or worked around the house fixing things.  I grew up in Catholic school, so we had uniforms. On dress down days, my classmates would come up to me and say, “Eddie, you were supposed to dress DOWN, not up” or “I can’t believe you’re wearing that on a dress down day!”.  I didn’t have a problem with people dressing how they dressed. Sure I was never into the goth thing, but I didn’t want to judge. I just wanted to dress how I wanted to dress. And maybe I was influenced in some way by how my parents dressed me up, and maybe other times I did feel embarrassed, but I knew that at the end of the day I would wear what felt most comfortable to me. Sometimes my mom would give me a sweater that was a tad too bland, so I went to the bathroom once I got to school and took it off. I would like the polo but untucked it and unbuttoned the top buttons. Half-and-half. Right idea, but lemme wear it like this instead. College was really when I started to develop my everyday style, my “main outfit”, like a video game character. I always wore some untucked button-down shirt with a tie, jeans, and sneakers. I liked it. It was this weird blend of dressing up and dressing down. People my age thought I was overdressed but my parents and people over 50 complained that I was underdressed. It was great! It feels so special to piss off both sides! My parents still remember the time I got an award at college and I went up the stage wearing that getup. You look at the picture and see the students standing side-by-side in nice dresses and dockers, and then there’s me wearing jeans and sneakers with a shirt and tie.  There always seemed to be this false dichotomy for how men should look and be - either the dapper “metrosexual” man who was slightly effeminate or the rough-and-tumble strong man who didn’t need to use an umbrella when it rained and never cared to fix his hair because that’s some “gay shit” for silly city folk. That false dichotomy is always played out in media. There’s a million buddy cop movies about the book-smart guy who is suave and sophisticated teaming up with the street-smart guy who is all muscle and manly and goes for the more practical route. Yin and Yang. Hot and cold. Good cop and bad cop. Lucky and Wild. Tango and Cash. But growing up I thought, “Why not both?” I loved watching James Bond as much as I loved watching Indiana Jones. Why couldn’t I be both if I really wanted to? It fit me best to play both roles. I AM GOING TO MIX THESE TWO THINGS AND YOU CAN’T FUCKING STOP ME! I WILL BE BOTH BOOK-SMART AND STREET-SMART. I KNOW THE QUADRATIC EQUATION AND HOW TO CON SOMEONE. THE ULTIMATE LIFEFORM.  The fucking worst though is being an adult now and hearing women wish they knew a guy who “dressed properly”, and men complimenting my clothes saying I look sharp.

Fuck all of you, honestly. 2. Young people are afraid to admit they like things that adults like. I grew up with extended family members living in cozy homes. I liked to admire their grandfather clocks, their decanters, their entertainment center, their offices and their chairs. I liked to wander around their houses during the holidays and poke my nose into their closets and admire old things. Maybe it’s something that an only-child might relate to the most. I wasn’t required or asked to be upstairs to attend a younger or older sibling. The adults just did their own thing and so I wandered off. Ikea always tickled my fancy as a kid. I would wander through the model rooms of offices and bedrooms and bathrooms, and I found whatever felt coziest to me and pretended that I was home. Better yet, I sometimes daydreamed that the entire Ikea facility was my home. How about that? Tired of sleeping on the bunk bed? Go to the next room to the big bed. I feel like cooking in that kitchen today, not this one. Some days I’ll feel more serious and work in the wooden office desk and other days I’ll feel silly and be in the kids room. I’ll take the whole building, please. This is where I live now. Swedish meatballs for dinner and creamy European chocolate bars for dessert every day. Young people fear being old and facing responsibilities. That doesn’t mean you liking these things makes you older. Taste and style is part of who you are, and there’s no shame if you have an interest in some bath mats or a nice decanter when you’re 20 or 17.

When I lived in my single dorm back in senior year of college, I realized that I was truly living alone for the first time. It brought some sanity to me that I didn’t know I needed. I was able to organize things how I saw fit, and hosted parties whenever I wanted. If I felt like something needed adjusting, I didn’t need to ask anybody’s permission. I really started exploring my sense of style and taste. As I grew up, I developed really specific tastes about where I would live: 1. Everything has to make sense. The placement of shelves, TVs, desks, dressers, paintings, pictures, all have to feel like they are easily viewed and accessible without needing to awkwardly turn to face them or reach them.  2. Symmetry is not always necessary but still good to fall back on when you don’t know what to do. 3. I never liked to sit with my back to the window(s) or the door. I always needed to see who or what was going to approach me or look at me.  4. TVs should never go on top of fireplaces.  5. Always have some kind of drawing room for guests to wait.  6. Never put your keys or sensitive documents in the foyer, drawing room, or wherever else strangers can easily find them the minute they walk into the house.  7. Open concept is pretentious.  8. It is far easier to cook if you have an island in the kitchen.  9. McMansions are the bane of style. Fake balconies, fake shutters, brick facades - everything about them is evil.  10. Get some goddamn curtains.

[finnickodaiir]

I know both piece of art are good in their own way. But if you good change anything about Stranger things: all seasons so far It: both movies What would it be? I repeat anything you like not one just anything you want too.

Stranger Things 3 (it's the only season I have major issues with):

• I'd not dumb Lucas and Steve down.

•I'd not make Mike and Hopper jerks, like I can some of their actions, but I'd keep that to a minimum.

• the Byers family actually interacting.

• Have Mike and Will actually reconciling, because they were at odds until the very last minute.

• Give Will and Lucas more screen time and an actual storyline (same with Dustin, but he already gets a good amount of screentime, so he should get some development).

• Minimize Mike/El's make out scenes.

• Scrap the whole Karen/Billy thing, that was pointless and gross.

That's all I could think of for ST, now onto It

IT (2017)

• I'd keep Mike and Stan's characterizations closer to their book characterization.

• Mike gets to be the history buff, not Ben.

• Ben gets to keep his role as the architect of the group.

•Beverly's reasons for being outcast are due to classicism, so we don't sexualize our 13-year-old female protagonist.

• Scrap the whole love triangle thing, Bill and Bev don't end up together, so it doesn't make sense to give them a proper romance in Ch1, instead we develop Bev and Bev's relationship.

• Have Bev interact with the other Losers.

• Actually hint that Eddie and Richie are LGBTQ+ and show that their relationship has a romantic tone.

• Include Stan's interest in ornithology and his encounter with Pennywise would be The Dead Kids in the Standpipe, not that weird painting, because that doesn't fit with character at all.

• Keep Mike's parents alive.

• Keep the Werewolf, the slingshot and the silver bullets.

• I'd not make Bev a damsel in distress, instead the Losers get chased into the sewers by the Bowers Gang.

IT Chapter Two

• Recast the actors for Tom Rogan, Audra Philipps and Patty Uris.

• I'd actually adress Adrian Mellon's murder, Bev's abusive marriage, instead of just playing it for shock value.

• Also, I wouldn't play Eddie's abuse for laughs.

• I'd scrap the whole Native American ritual. That wasn't in the book and Muschietti ended up using them as plot devices and portraying in stereotypical way.

• Let Eddie keep his gay-coding and book arc and let Richie keep his bi-coding and book arc.

• No Bill/Bev kiss.

• Stan's suicide doesn't get romanticized

That's all I could think of right now, one day I'll make post covering all the things I would have done, if I was the one in charge of the IT adaptations. Also I’ve covered my main issues with Ch2 here and I respectfully disagree about It Chapter Two being good. 

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

I Know, You Know

Happy birthday to @areyouscarletcold!!!!! For your gift, I brought our IT AU to life in the form of the first of the Yang trilogy! Hope you enjoy it!

AO3

              A rare sunny day in Derry was something to be enjoyed. After three days of fog and rain, it seemed that everyone wanted to do the same thing. People were walking around on the streets and on the beach. Getting a table in the restaurant was just as hard, but Richie had managed to secure him and Ben one in the end.

“Any idea of what you’re going to get?” Ben asked him a few minutes after they’d picked up their menus.

Richie grinned, having known since he arrived at the table. “Breakfast.”

“It’s 12:30, Richie.”

“Yes, but I didn’t have breakfast, the most important meal of the day. Aren’t you one of the people always telling me to eat breakfast?”

“Yes, except you eat it in the morning!”

“So why do people eat breakfast for dinner? You’ve done that, Benny Boy. Are you telling me that you’re wrong eating breakfast for dinner?”

Anyone else might have been pissed off at Richie for that, but Ben was one of the people who’d known him long enough to understand it was all in jest.

“You two decided what to eat yet?” a waiter asked them as he came over to the table.

              Richie smiled at the handsome man and looked him over. His hair was gelled up enough so his blond hair would look stylish. There was the barest hint of black eyeliner gracing his lids. No ring on his finger, slight limp as he shuffled a little closer in his work boots with a smear of grease on the outer right sole. Calloused hands and green eyes that definitely lingered on Ben ever so briefly, not that Richie could blame him.

Ben sighed and handed over his menu. “The eggs benedict with fruit. I’ll be right back.”

The waiter scribbled down the order as Ben headed off in the direction of the bathroom. “Great. How about you?”

“Let me see…” Richie leaned back in his seat and grinned. “Oh, and don’t mind my friend. He’s been cranky the last few days. Please, tell me what you would recommend?”

“All the sandwiches are really great-”

“I have to stop you, I’m so sorry,” Richie held up a finger for emphasis. “But I have not eaten breakfast yet, my best friend claimed it was the most important meal of the day, and I think it’s vital I should have that. Also, because he’s my best friend, I want to needle him just a little bit with some part of it.”

“How about…chocolate banana pancakes with a side of smoked salmon?”

“He’d hate that,” Richie grinned. “That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Not sure about that.”

“You’re a man who clearly has a passion for cars, probably classic? What are you working on, a Chevy and listening to Queen?”

“A Volkswagen actually,” the waiter corrected. “Not wrong about Queen.”

“You can never go wrong with Queen.”

“Has he ordered yet?” Ben asked as he returned to his seat. “And please tell me you weren’t gross.”

“I ordered things normal people get for breakfast,” Richie promised, which wasn’t a complete lie. “He can vouch for me.”

“I’ll get these orders going, but he did.”

As their waiter left, Ben turned back to Richie. “You flirted with him, didn’t you?”

“Noooo.”

“You turn on the Tozier charm every time you meet a gay man, Trashmouth.”

“He’s gay? I had no idea! How did you know?”

“Richie, I saw how he looked at you and me, he’s gay,” Ben screwed up his face and put a hand to his temple. “Did you do this?”

Richie knew Ben was baiting him, but he was Trashmouth supreme and would make this game his. “Take a shit in the chair? That’s unsanitary, Ben!”

As predicted, Ben dropped the act immediately. “I meant being psychic.”

“No, you know that is for the police department and cases,” Richie lectured. “And for getting free drinks in the bar.”

“That was once.”

“Still worked out well for us. And it’s because of this that we get paid by Stan.”

“I have a job, Richie,” Ben reminded him. “But I know he’s going to leave you his phone number on the bill, right? And you’ll leave him hanging because you struggle with commitment.”

“I struggle with commitment?” Richie laughed, even though Ben had struck dead on. But it did give him pause…and made him think about a certain someone from his high school reunion. “Then watch this.”

Richie pulled his phone out of his pocket, selected a number, and showed the screen to Ben.

“If he says yes, you have to go on the date,” Ben told him.

“And I will!” Richie hissed. “Commitment issues? Nope. I just took a leap of faith while you still pine for the lovely Detective Marsh.”

Ben raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything else as the call connected.  

~~~

“Bill, you want me to order the-” Mike stopped as his husband strode past him, white as a sheet. “Bill, what’s wrong?”

              Bill didn’t stop walking, heading right for Stan’s office. Mike followed his husband to the chief’s office, noticing an evidence bag with a manila envelope inside in his hand. When they entered, Stan was on the phone with Patty. Once he saw Bill’s face, he told his wife he had to go and hung up.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Bill set the bag on Stan’s desk. “This just got dropped off at the desk.”

Mike leaned over his shoulder to get a better look at it. On the back was the decal of a clown with a sinister smile. His heart sank as he remembered how he’d seen it on the news when he was younger. Stan swallowed, looking a lot more concerned than he had a moment ago. The chief of police had recognized the decal too.

“Who did he choose this time?”

~~~

“Could this not be a more perfect day?” Richie announced as they walked up the stairs to the precinct. “The sun is shining, I’ve eaten a breakfast, I have a date, and Stan the Man has just called us about a case.”

“You still have to actually go on the date,” Ben reminded him. “So what do you think this is going to be about?”

“No clue, but I will definitely be using this?” Richie made his psychic face at Ben. “My moneymaker is going to be in action.”

“Whatever you say,” Ben shrugged as they saw almost everyone in the precinct assembled in the bullpen. “This looks serious though.”

“You made it.”

              Both men turned around to see Detective Beverly Marsh walking towards them. Richie didn’t miss the way that Ben’s face lit up when he saw her. Ever since they’d started Psych and started working with the police department, his best friend had been pining hard for the detective. Richie approved of Bev not just because she believed he was psychic, but because she was tough, smart, and had laughed at his jokes a few times. Also, she tended to be with-

“Edster!” Richie waved at Bev’s partner as she led them over to the rest of the crowd. “How are you?”

“Not the time, Tozier,” Detective Edward Kaspbrak snapped. “This is serious shit happening.”

“Ooookay, duly noted. I’ve missed you too.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but didn’t get a chance to say anything else before Stanley Uris, chief of the Derry Police, called everyone’s attention to a message made of magazine clippings on the projector.

“This letter was delivered to us about an hour ago,” Stan announced. “It’s confirmed to be from the Clown Killer. Detective Kaspbrak, if you will?”

Eddie stepped up. “Hey everybody, I’m back and back for one night only. I’m going to kill somebody tonight? Guess who? Guess where? Guess how? We’re going to have so much fun. Signed, the Clown.”

“The Clown Killer always demands a challenger when he commits his crimes,” Stan continued. “It’s what he does- makes someone follow clues to figure out what his plan is and see if they can stop it in time. The Clown Killer has made it clear who he wants his opponent to be already. Denbrough?”

Officer Bill Denbrough clicked to the next slide. Richie felt like someone had put an ice cube down his back as he read the next magazine letter message.

“P.S…Bring your psychic along,” Bev read aloud as everyone turned towards Richie.

Richie grinned at the crowd. “Okay, but I’m not the first psychic who’s worked with the police. Remember that FBI guy who had a psychic with him?”

“She was in on a counterfeiting scheme,” Ben mumbled next to him.

Stan looked sympathetic. “Mr. Tozier, I’m sorry but he’s made it clear that he wants it to be you.”

“How could he-”

Stan clicked to the next slide. The ice cube now felt like a bucked of ice water going down his shirt when he saw his picture on the screen. It had been the one from when he and Ben had discovered the dinosaur (even though Ben said they had technically re-discovered it after finding the dead paleontologist). There was a stamp of a clown at the bottom of the picture.

“Oh fuck,” he said softly. Someone actually wanted to play a game with him.

Ben stepped forward to stand at his side. “Do you have description on him? Something we can use to track him down?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Stan shook his head. “There’s never been anything to indicate age or ethnicity. Not even a physical description.”

“There isn’t even consistency with the manner in which he kills,” Mike Hanlon, the coroner and medical examiner, added. “I’ve reviewed the files. Neither Bill nor I have been able to find a pattern.”

“He’s right,” Stan nodded. “We’re pawns in his game and we just have to play along with it.”

“Because it’s worked out so well in the past?” Richie countered, his eye catching someone in the corner of the room. “Wait, wait, wait, I’m getting something. I am having a vision of the killer!”

Bev went rigid. “What? Already?”

“Yes, Detective, I am.”

Richie marched across the room, Ben shadowing him, and pointed to a man with a ballcap sitting at a desk. He seemed tuned out to the whole ordeal. “Him. Right here. This is the Clown Killer.”

The man didn’t even pay attention to him, but Bev let out a small groan and Eddie ran a hand down his face. Stan was looking pissed off, then even more so when Bill whispered something in his ear and they retreated to his office.

“Tozier, this is…” Eddie pressed his lips together briefly, barely holding back frustration. “Belch Huggins. He’s a profiler who’s come in because he has identified patterns in the Clown Killer’s murders and is an expert on him. Even more so than Bill and Mike, which is saying something.”

“Are you sure he’s not the killer?”

Ben elbowed him from behind. “Play nice.”

Bev had caught up them now. “Uh, Belch, this is-”

“Richard Tozier, in the flesh,” Belch finished, rising from the chair and adjusting his ballcap.

Richie turned to Ben and raised his eyebrow. Ben gave him a subtle headshake. He was right. Pissing off a potential serial killer was a bad idea, even for him.

“Hold on, you know Tozier?”

“I’ve done my research, Detective Kaspbrak. Not to mention he’s in the papers frequently for the work he’s done for you. No doubt the Clown Killer saw him and decided to select him to be the next player.”

“I’m more of a Street Fighter guy, but beggars can’t be choosers,” Richie told him, stepping aside for Ben. “This is my partner, Leonard Snuffleupagus.”

Belch held out a limp hand that Ben shook politely. “Hello.”

“So you are Benjamin Hanscom,” Belch smiled. “It was harder to find stuff on you with all the names your partner’s given-”

“So why Belch?” Richie interrupted. “You have a gas problem or something.”

“Tozier, please,” Eddie practically begged. “We’re all introduced now. Mr. Huggins, can you tell us more about what’s going on?”

“But answer the Belch question too.”

Belch took a deep breath. “The Clown Killer is the most notorious and mysterious killer in all of Derry. He first started in 1988 with five kills and has resurfaced three times with a single victim in each of those instances. This is his fourth appearance since the 1988 spree. The only times he comes out of hiding are when he feels there is a worthy opponent, Richie in this case. He challenges his opponents to save the victim in a set amount of time by solving riddles he creates.”

Richie raised his hand. “I have a question.”

“My given name is Reginald, my father was named Reginald, his father before him was named Reginald, and his father before him was named Mary. I find the name stuffy; I refuse to go by Reggie because of Archie Comics, and Belch was a childhood nickname.”

Richie lowered his hand. Mystery solved, at least the easy one.

“Okay, you said there are riddles we have to solve?” Ben asked. “Has anything come in yet?”

Bev nodded. “One got delivered with the note announcing his return. Belch?”

Belch walked over to the projector and moved to the next slide. A picture of a telegram message was on the screen, a nice change of pace from the creepy magazine letters.

“He serves the general well today, whose soldiers wait to die. In a white river they shall pay, for them he will not cry. Who is he?”

Richie studied the riddle as Belch pulled a stopwatch out of his jacket. “This stopwatch was also inside the envelope, already running. This is typical of the Clown Killer and we only have an hour and ten minutes left on it."

"Generals and soldiers...could it be military?” Eddie asked, scratching his head.

“Perhaps,” Belch shrugged. “But he wants to play with the psychic. The riddle will be something personally connected to him.”

Richie closed his eyes for a moment. Eddie’s question on the military was still hanging onto him. Generals, soldiers, ranking. Private. Corporal. Lieutenant. Captain. Colonel. But white rivers…a battle? Mike knew some military history, could he know of any battles? But this was for him, this was his clue…

“Any thoughts so far?” Eddie asked.

“He’s been planning this a while or he’s just a lazy poet,” Richie suggested, trying to remember high school history class.

“Richard!”

Fuck, his dad had arrived. Ben was giving him a deer in the headlights look. Richie could tell by the look on the old man’s face that he was not pleased.

“A moment, please,” he said to his friends and Belch before running over to where his father was standing. “What are you doing here?”

“You can’t work with this case, Richard,” Wentworth Tozier scolded his son. “I forbid you to be a part of this.”

“Forbid me…what? No, I am a grown ass adult, Dad. I’m taking the case.”

“Don’t. I was around the last time this sick bastard challenged a cop. Your mother can tell you all about his psychological evaluation. Not only does he know about you, but also about everyone you care about. If you don’t catch him…Richie, you’ll never sleep again.”

His father rarely called him by his nickname. That meant he really wanted Richie to listen to him.

“Dad, I can handle this. I promise you. Just go home, and I’ll give you a call tomorrow, relive the greatest hits. Besides, that clock is counting down so I kinda gotta go and save someone’s life.”

Wentworth didn’t look pleased. “Don’t fuck this up.”

“And I shall try my hardest not to,” Richie snarked back before turning around and heading back to the others.

Eddie was arguing about past cases with Mike and Belch when Richie made it back to the group. Bev and Ben were watching and whispering to each other. Richie looked at the riddle again. He still couldn’t think of anything. What was the Clown Killer trying to tell him?

“The first one is always a gimme,” Belch was telling them. “Richie, you need to think about the last twenty-four hours.”

Staying inside with the rain. Watching Netflix. Arranging a meal with Ben. Breakfast for lunch at the restaurant. He’d run out of cereal so that’s why he’d…

“Oh!” he shouted. “Ben, I know! I got it! It’s Mills!”

His best friend looked at him with confusion. Bev and Eddie exchanged a similar expression. Belch looked intrigued.

“General Mills,” Richie said. “Cereal. The white river is milk, soldiers are the little bits of cereal, and he’s talking about breakfast.”

“Great, we have the general, but who is he?”

Eddie’s question made Richie think back again. The riddle had referred to someone serving the General. Someone serving breakfast…

“Shit.”

~~~

              Eddie made remarkable time getting them all back to where Richie had been eating breakfast with Ben. Once they were there, Richie didn’t even wait for the car to park before tumbling out while Eddie shrieked at him to wait. There was no time to wait though with the timer counting down. The hostess told them when they all barreled in that the waiter had gone on break in the back. Richie barely even let her show them the way, running off in the direction she pointed with Eddie and Ben on his heels.

Outside of the restaurant, there was no waiter in sight. Unfortunately, there was a clown decal plastered on a locker below a stopwatch. The cold feeling he’d gotten earlier was back.

“How well did you all know this guy?” Bev asked, but her voice sounded fuzzy.

“He just served us lunch.”

“Breakfast…for lunch,” Richie corrected. “It was barely anything.”

“Doesn’t matter with the Clown Killer,” Belch said simply, like he was telling a child the sun went down at night. “He’ll find anyone you interact with.”

Bev was yanking on a pair of gloves and opening the locker. No dead body fell out thankfully. There was another message inside, except it was made with glued on cereal.

“Oh rats, Richie,” Bev read. “Oh, so close! Shame he has to die, but how? And when and where? Don’t ask me why.”

“That’s not a riddle,” commented Belch. “He owes us one still.”

“Richie, think you can sense anything from it?” Bev asked him.

Richie tried to look for something, but the waiter was still on his mind. “Clearly he went to a lot of work to pick out the letters from the cereal. For a guy who rhymes like a sixth grader, he had to be planning this. Like he was waiting for me for breakfast. He should have used those little alphabet letters that people put in soup. Why do they call it alphabet soup anyways? There’s fucking numbers in that stuff! Why don’t you calling it fucking letters and numbers soup? It makes more sense!”

Ben nudged him. “I have to go show you something over there.”

“You can just tell me.”

“I want to show you something,” Ben jerked his head towards a flower box. “This will be a quick second.”

Eddie nodded in understanding before going back to checking over the locker with Bev. Richie groaned and ran his hands down his face. “What?”

“Richie, what are you doing?”

“Trying to solve a case, like we always do.

“There’s a man’s life at stake and you’re making jokes?” Ben whispered. “Richie, you are my best friend, I love you, and I support you. But you have to take this one seriously. It’s a serial killer who is going after you!”

“You think I don’t know that? Ben, I’m scared out of my mind. We heard about those cases growing up, my dad knew people who faced this guy, my mother did their psych evals. I have to work like this because if this clown gets into my head, then it’s all over. I’ll lose it. I have to do my thing and make jokes to diffuse the tension of this situation or I’m going to actually start freaking out more. I can’t show weakness by stopping and showing that this weirdo has gotten into my head!”

Ben stared at him for a long minute. “What if I made the jokes?”

“Come again?”

“You have to focus on these riddles, not creating jokes,” Ben told him. “Let me try and be the funny guy. I’m no you, but…I can try.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I said I’d try. That clock’s running out though. Let’s do this, Trashmouth.”

Richie grinned. “You’re the Trashmouth now.”

“Guess, I am.”

“If you’re both done with your powwow now, I found the other poem,” Eddie shouted, holding up a receipt.

Richie walked over, peering over Eddie’s shoulder. “Little League is over, you just became a pro. Score a run, we’ll have some fun. Make sure you beat the throw.”

Ben peeked over Eddie’s other shoulder. “Wow, and he didn’t leave a tip. What a jackass.”

“He wants you to go to the next location,” Belch said before letting out a burp.

“And we have seventeen minutes,” Eddie held up the watch. “Tozier, would you please get off my shoulder? Where do we need to go?”

Richie cringed and started to think. Oh god, where did this guy want him now?

Ben glanced over at him and nodded. He picked up a soda can and started playing hacky sack with it. After a while, he started to whistle Happy Birthday. Belch looked fascinated. Bev raised an eyebrow at his antics. Then she clapped her hands together.

“Make sure you beat the throw is a close play! I had a coach once who told us that constantly. You have to get to one of the bases or home plate.”

“Yes!” Richie saw where she was going. “He said score a run. I sucked at Little League, but I know you have to touch home plate to score. Home plate is the police station, it’s where this started.”

“Good, good, good,” Eddie said quickly, fumbling a little as he pulled out his keys. “Now let’s go!”

~~~

              When they got back to the police station, Maggie Tozier was waiting there. Eddie watched as Richie went off to go and talk to her. He thought about shouting at him briefly to just come along, but he knew about Richie’s relationship with his parents. It had been the total opposite of him and his mother. They’d buried themselves in their work and weren’t there for Richie when he needed them. When Maggie had evaluated him a few months ago, she’d mentioned it was a regret of hers that she was actively trying to fix.

“Kaspbrak, Marsh!” Stan came out of the conference room. “In here!”

“Is it a surprise party?” Ben asked.

Bev frowned at him. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Cool as a cucumber.”

Eddie rolled his eyes as they walked inside. Mike and Bill were with Stan, staring at a massive box on the table.

“Again, is it a surprise party?”

Mike shook his head. “I found this outside the file room. Checked in with Bill to see who’d brought it in. He told me no one signed for it.”

“It was inside the precinct?!” Stan stared at the two of them. “Are you kidding me? That is the last place someone should be dropping clues. Both of you, go tell everyone to keep their eyes open, not until they catch this guy. I’ve let you people watch my child, come on!”

“Sorry about that,” Richie made his way into the conference room, looking more determined than he had a few moments ago. “And Chief, I was told to tell you there was a reporter on the phone in your office. Something about a statement.”

“Oh, he’s getting a statement,” Stan sighed. “Please solve this, Mr. Tozier. Please.”

Eddie watched him leave, not envious of the position his boss was in. Belch began to unwrap the package on the table now that Richie was there. The guy gave Eddie the creeps, but he seemed to know what he was doing. Richie hand his arms crossed, but his fingers were dancing out a melody on his elbows. More than even, Eddie hoped he’d crack this case. He’d heard others broke before after failing and he didn’t want that to happen to Richie.

“What the fuck is that?” he screeched when the wrapping paper came off to reveal a cage with vermin and a time hanging from the wire.

“It’s a mouse, Edster,” Richie deadpanned. “I had one as a kid for a while.”

“He’s taped the clue on top,” Belch interrupted, pulling off a laminated sheet. “Another riddle for you, Richie.”

“Is he using alphabet noodles?” Ben asked.

Belch showed them the paper. “Mouse food. It’s a photograph. Meet my little buddy Gus. Pitter patter is your hint. If you can’t remember when, just read the fine print.”

“How much time do I have for this one?”

Eddie looked at the dangling watch, scrunching up his nose at the mouth. “Fifty-nine minutes.”

“Richie, is there a way you can speak to it?” Bev asked.

Eddie scoffed. Three years and she was still buying he was psychic. Yes, it was freaky but there had to be some explanation for how Tozier did his thing. “He can’t.”

“Yes, he can,” Ben countered. “He’s the psychic.”

“He is standing right here and all of you are bringing in a lot of negative energy,” Richie yawned. “Just give me a minute.”

“Whatever, Doctor Doolittle,” Eddie muttered.

Richie smirked. “Eddie, I know you can do better than that.”

~~~

              Richie stared at the mouse, trying to figure out what the clue meant. It was hard with everyone staring at him again and the beeping of the timer. Thankfully, Ben came to his aide and started doing his best audition for the Ministry of Silly Walks. While they were watching him make a fool of himself, it gave Richie the time to think. Still, nothing was coming to him.

“Pitter patter is the clue,” Belch said, leaning down on the other side of the table to meet Richie’s face. “Maybe you’re not supposed to speak to the mouse. What if it’s supposed to speak to you?”

Weird advice, but then again, he was working with a man called Belch. Richie sighed and watched Gus the mouse scurry around. His feet dislodged the little flakes, exposing part of a newspaper and its text.

Fine print.

“Oh, this little fucker,” Richie chuckled, pulling the top of the cage off. “Eddie, take the mouse.”

“Do you know how many diseases that thing could be carrying?”

“I got him,” Belch scooped up Gus. “Hello there, my little furry friend.”

Richie let Belch keep cooing to the mouse as he pulled up the newspaper liner. “He was walking on the fine print.”

“Then the next clue is there,” Bev stopped when she saw the page Richie had pulled out. “In the Classifieds. This could be a while.”

“But you have a psychic to read the energy of the printed names and find the important ones,” Richie countered, holding the paper up and putting a hand to his head. “Oh hey, Ben! Betty Ripsom seeks Lenjamin Handsome to love her tender. Your ex made it!”

“Not going down that road again.”

“Don Hagarty selling black snake, will go fast…”

“Those are people from your past cases,” Belch said, the mouse running along his shoulder now. “I did tell you I did my research.”

“I will not doubt you again, my good man,” Richie nodded and then looked back through the paper, scanning all the ads. “Snarky psychic seeks ferroequinologist for help with killer smile. Really? Of all the words to call me, he’s picking snarky? Lame.”

“Ferroequinologist,” Eddie murmured. “A ferroquinologist is a train enthusiast.”

Ben whipped his head towards him. “How do you know that?”

“I happen to be one actually.”

“No kidding,” Ben pointed to himself. “Same.”

“And I as well,” Belch added.

Richie had no idea what was going on, but these three clearly knew what was going on. At least he and Bev were both confused as hell with these two.

“The ‘love her tender’…tender is a small fuel car.”

Belch nodded. “Black snake is slang for coal train.”

“And there is a coal train that runs through Derry,” Ben finished.

They had their next location.

~~~

“You should have told me that we were running!” Richie shouted as he and Ben chased the coal train.

“We ran out of the station before I remembered!” Ben shouted back. “I forgot it was a pull through.”

“Dammit, Ben! But hey, look at us. We get to live out a hobo fantasy!”

Ben laughed a little. “Hey, your phone is ringing!”

              Richie pulled it out, slowing his run a little so he didn’t drop the phone. It was Carter calling about their date tonight. He was thrilled about it even though it was bad timing. Unfortunately, Carter still hadn’t forgotten how Richie had chickened out of taking him to homecoming and was suspecting he was being stood up. He was right about them chasing a serial killer, even if it did come out sarcastic.

“Ben can vouch for me! Ben, tell Carter what’s happening!”

Ben grabbed the phone Richie held out. “Hey, Carter. It’s Ben. We’re chasing a train like hobos.”

They gained a little more ground on the train before he pushed the phone back to Richie. “He wants to talk to you.”

              Carter thought it was another excuse that Richie was doing. He confessed that he was worried about high school happening again. Richie promised to call him back, and that it wasn’t a repeat of the past just as they reached an open car. Ben managed to hoist himself up first, then outstretched a hand to help Richie on.

“Your hobo fantasy sucks,” Ben coughed as they crawled inside and found the envelope and timer. “What does this dick want us to do now?”

Richie cracked open the yellow envelope and pulled out a piece of paper. The letters were white and blue this time. There were some red smears on the paper as well that made his stomach turn.

“A moving picture is worth a thousand words, so read the story and follow the birds? Once you’re there, you’ll hear a phone. You have eight rings to pick up or the girl is dead. Shame on me, that didn’t even rhyme.”

“I hope that’s just jam,” Ben groaned as he pulled out a packet of pictures from inside the envelope. “He’s given you these this time too. We have twenty-seven minutes to get this one right.”

“Great, no pressure,” he muttered, placing out all the photos to try and find a pattern. But nothing stood out.

“Anything?”

“No…wait,” Richie crawled over and peeked out the open door. “Actually, yes. Come see this.”

Ben peered his head out and saw Belch jogging beside the train, sweaty and panting. “I can’t believe this.”

~~~

              Richie figured out that the clue was leading them to the pier. The Clown Killer had taken a picture of Ben throwing away a wrapper just after lunch right by it. They had been walking to Ben’s car and this fuckwad had been watching them. So they all loaded in Eddie’s car again once they all hopped off the train to get there. The man must have broken half a dozen laws to get them there. Richie had never loved him more.

              Again, he bolted out of the car before Eddie had even parked and was running with Ben towards the pier. People were all about, enjoying the sunshine. The timer had seven minutes left on it by the time they reached the midpoint. A phone had started to ring then, which Richie finally located to be under a bench. He nearly answered it on the fifth ring but stopped.

Why had it started ringing as soon as he got there?

So he threw the damn thing into the water, drawing horrified looks out of everyone.

“You better hope that man is still alive or you’re an accessory to murder,” Eddie said blankly.

Richie could barely hear him over the pounding of his heart. He really hoped he hadn’t fucked this up. But he was getting tired of this game, especially if someone was watching him.

“Richie?” Bev’s voice was filled with quiet anger. “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because he’s watching us, Bev!” he snapped. “This thing wasn’t even ringing until I was five fucking feet away from…”

He could see the Psych office all the way from where he stood. It was far, but not too far away that he could miss the movement behind the glass.

“It,” he finished. “Ben, he’s in the office.”

“Richie- what?”

              He didn’t even wait for his best friend or try to explain before he started running again. Richie only looked back once to make sure that they were on his tail. His mother had told him earlier that the Clown Killer knew how to push someone’s buttons and hit people and things close to him. Up until now, it had been aggravating. Breaking and entering into Psych was making it more personal.

              Bev and Eddie caught up to him and kicked in the door. Guns out, they swept the place in search of the Clown Killer. However, he had slipped away from them. The binoculars by the window Richie had been looking at earlier were enough confirmation that he had been there. He had been watching and waiting so he could make that damn call.

“Richie, don’t touch a thing! He could have left prints!” Eddie called out after he slammed the binoculars in the trash.

“You won’t find any,” Belch murmured dreamily. “He’s too good for prints. But he probably touched everything in here to get to you.”

“You have way too much admiration for this psycho,” Bev snapped at him.

“You haven’t seen anything yet. He’s just getting warmed up.”

Richie covered his face, pushing his glasses up. He hated this, he hated this, he hated-

Ben patted his shoulder. Then Richie heard “Hey, everyone. Look how huge I am compared to this little Stormtrooper. He’s so tiny!”

“Will you get your shit together!” Eddie yelled. “What the hell, Hanscom?

Richie winked at him. “You gotta pull yourself together, man.”

Ben winked back.

“Oh, god,” Bev pulled down a photo above the one of him and Ben as children. “He was here. Is this the guy who served you this morning?”

Richie nodded as he saw the man who had served this morning tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth.

“Thank you,” Belch grabbed the frame and smashed it on Ben’s desk.

              Ben was about to shout at him, but a timer started beeping. Bev, who was closest to his desk, started owning up drawers and digging through them. Ben started helping her and Richie felt like he should help too. But it was like his feet were rooted to the ground. He just stood there, watching as Bev finally pulled it out and shut it off.

“He’s left another clue,” Belch turned the picture over, showing Richie the gagged waiter as he read. “You are a naught naughty boy. Since when did you decide to play coy? But back to the station, you get another shot. But mess with me again and-”

“STOP!” Richie shouted. “Just…stop it. I’m done.”

“Richie-” Bev tried.

“Don’t. I’m sick and tired of him running us all around. I’m out. I did all this shit for him, and I’m done. Finished. Finito.”

“Because no one has ever gotten this far with him. He’s keeping the game going a sign of respect.”

“Then you can tell him to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine, Belch! After all, it’s not like we can win. You were the one who said he’s too good!”

Richie dropped into one of the chairs by the window. “We never had a shot, did we? He’s just going to kill that guy, isn’t he?”

“Tozier…” Eddie started, then paused. “Richie, you don’t just give up.”

“He’s not calling you out personally,” Richie hissed. “He is not coming into your life and picking up all these little pieces of things you thought were in the past and taunting you with them. He’s coming for me. So just…don’t right now. I’m done. Get out.”

“What?”

“I said get out!” Richie screamed. “You three! Ben stays, but all of you get out! Now!”

Bev glared at him. “Screw you, Tozier. You want to quit now, fine! We’ll still find him.”

“And good luck with that!” he shouted as she marched out with Belch, leaving Eddie staring at him with sad eyes.

“Maybe I don’t believe you’re psychic, but I believed you could solve this,” Eddie told him. “Guess I was wrong about believing in you.”

With that, he headed out the door. Richie sank back into his seat. He was exhausted.

“So now what?” Ben asked. “Are we really out?”

Richie shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…he’s the one in control right now. Everyone who plays by his rules loses. The only chance we have now is to change the rules on him, and I tried to do that. He could have killed the waiter, but he didn’t. He still wants to play and he gave us another try. If we’re out, then he’s not watching us anymore.”

Ben grinned. “Smart. I thought you were really pissed off at them.”

“I kinda was. This psycho is awful, but he’s not watching us. So let’s do what we do- go off the book to investigate.”

“Sounds like a plan. Hey, was I too much with the Stormtrooper?”

Richie cackled for what felt like the first time in hours. “Your best work ever. Now let’s go. We’ve gotten through the hard part. It can’t get any worse.”

~~~

It could, in fact, get worse.

              An hour after he’d ‘quit’ the game, Richie got a phone call from Bev telling them to come to the Derry Inn. Apparently, they’d found the waiter’s car parked outside just as Richie talked with the staff and found out the car was missing. Eddie, Bev, and Belch were already waiting by the time Ben drove him there. Richie was barely able to ask what had happened before they started leading him upstairs. Bev explained on the way that the next clue had been directed towards Eddie and he’d managed to figure it out the location and room number of the next clue.

Inside the room was the waiter, tied to a chair with his head slack.

Bev rushed over and placed her fingers on his neck. “Still breathing. Get that gag out of his mouth.”

“It’s paper,” Eddie grimaced as he extracted it. “It’s the next clue. Richie no longer wants to play. Are my stakes too low to make you stay?”

Richie was confused and he started looking around the room. There was a creepy clown portrait on a closet door made with items that probably came from a woman’s purse. Said purse was lying on the table next to the television. The cold ice feeling was back as Richie remembered seeing that bag with his mother when she came to try and talk him out of the case.

The Clown Killer had upped the stakes and taken his mom.

“No,” he uttered. “He took my mom, Ben.”

Ben covered his mouth for a moment before dropping his hand down to his side. “That son of a bitch.”

“He took my mom,” Richie repeated, sinking into a chair. He’d spend most of his life resenting her for being so absorbed in her work. She’d been making the steps to be better, actually have a relationship with him. And now this son of a bitch had taken her.

Stan was now entering the room. “I just checked down at the front desk, where’s Mr. Tozier?”

“He knows already,” Eddie spoke up. “The killer took his mother.”

The other man’s face sank. “Richie, we’re going to find her.”

“We have to,” Richie ran his hands down his face. “He upped the game to bring me back in.”

“Richie,” Bev stuck her head out of the bathroom. “You need to get in here.”

“Coming.”

Stan patted Richie on the shoulder. “I’m sending some officers to keep an eye on your father. Anyone else we should know about who could be in danger?”

“Everyone I care about is here,” Richie mumbled as Eddie walked past him. “But…Carter Han. I have a date with him tonight. If the Clown Killer goes for him-”

“We won’t let him.”

“Yeah,” Richie nodded, entering the bathroom to find Eddie, Ben, Bev, and Belch already inside. “Thought it was only girls who traveled to the bathroom in packs, guys?”

“Richie,” Ben began, pointing to the mirror with a message written on it in red.

Oh no…

“It’s lipstick,” Eddie said quickly beside him. “Your mother’s fine. He just decided to get creative.”

“You should be moving, as most people do,” Belch read. “But instead you sit and enjoy the Vu. P.S. Mommy says hi and bye. Just in case.”

Eddie was shaking, holding a clenched fist. Richie half suspected he’d smash the mirror. Bad luck could suck it.

“Any of you happen to know what V-U would be?” Stan asked them.

“We solved a case for a spelling bee once after a kid with that surname passed out,” Ben told him. “But he’s from Michigan.”

              Richie inhaled and closed his eyes, thinking back over the day. The clown stickers on all the envelopes. Gus the mouse. The classifieds. There had been an ad for a drive-in movie place. Cinema Vue, but the e had been crossed out.

“Well, thank god he’s not going to ruin the arcade for me,” Richie sighed. “But I know where he is. Was there a timer anywhere?”

Bev and Eddie shook their heads.

“Then we need to hurry,” Belch said. “He set no timer. The sun’s going down. I think he’s ready for the endgame.”

~~~

              It was dark by the time the group arrived at the drive-in lot. Mike and Bill had joined the party, along with Richie’s father. Richie had managed to remember the keys from his mother’s purse when he spoke to earlier to identify the car, so they at least had that. But that was their only clue.

              He must have spent five minutes running through the rows and jumping on cars before he finally found the car. Slowly, Richie approached it, spotting his mother in the side mirror. There was tape over Maggie Tozier’s mouth and she looked remarkably calm. As he approached the open window, he saw a sign around her neck.

“Mama says pretty please, don’t squeeze!”

Richie stepped back and got a better look. The back headrest was gone and there was a red dot on the back of her neck.

“Richard?”

“Dad,” Richie didn’t take his eyes off his mom. “Be quiet and get down.”

For once in his life, his father actually seemed to listen and not argue with the instruction. “What’s going on?”

Bev and Eddie were hurrying towards them along the row, but Richie pointed to the red dot. It traced all the way back to the house where the movie was rolling. The two detectives set off in search of that, but this felt too easy for the Clown Killer. But he needed to talk to his mother to see if there was more.

“Mom, I’m going to take the tape off now,” he told her. “Hold still.”

Once it was off, she didn’t look at him. “That one’s a decoy.”

“I figured, but-” Richie processed her words. “What do you mean that one?”

Her eyes trailed down to the box of popcorn on her lap. Richie followed her gaze. Buried in the kernels was something blinking and red.

“Richard!” his father hissed. “What’s happening?”

Richie exhaled slowly. “She’s strapped to a bomb.”

Wentworth’s shoulders sank. “Oh god, no, Richie.”

“I’m going to fix this,” he promised, then looked back to his mother. “Mom, is he here?”

She nodded, her eyes moving to the left. Richie stood up and looked in that direction. There was a space for cars to drive up, but just past that was a car with open windows and a man with a mullet seated in the driver’s seat. As if he could feel Richie watching him, he turned and smiled. He waved a small remote back and forth tauntingly, then beckoned Richie towards the car.

~~~

The car was cleaner than Richie has expected from a serial killer once he got inside.

“Hello, Richie,” the Clown Killer greeted. “I see you finally solved all of my clues.”

Richie didn’t show any expression, even though he wanted to throttle the shit out of him for putting him through that all day. “I won. I beat you. Now let my mother go.”

The man chuckled. “Most people introduce themselves first. I’m Henry Bowers. Nice to meet you.”

Richie glared at him.

“You’ve really been something,” Bowers told him. “I think you might be my most admirable foe. Then again, I knew you would be. I’ve been reading the papers, Mr. Psychic.”

“Great, glad to know I set a record in the most fucked up game ever,” Richie fired back. “But this is your last game, dipshit. This whole place is surrounded with SWAT. There is no way you’re making an escape.”

Bowers snorted. “I’ll admit the game is at an end. But I’m not done yet.”

“Why not? You about to give me some Hannibal Lecter bullshit?”

“I can try and drop something,” Bowers pointed at the movie. “You know what’s great about this movie? It has a solid resolution. These days, everyone always wants a sequel, always wants to know more. But the best movies are the ones that tie up all the loose ends. I’m like that.”

“You’re a serial killer. What does that have to do with movies?”

“Maybe I am a killer. But I also complete things. That’s what everyone wants- completion. Now the story we’ve made, you versus me, is going to end. The question is how.”

Richie spotted Eddie in the mirror. He wanted so bad for this all to end, but Bowers still had the remote that could kill his mother. He gave the barest shake of his head and hoped Eddie could see it. Thankfully, he did and motioned for SWAT to stand down.

“I know how it ends,” Richie told Bowers. “You in a cell with white walls. Or out in a blaze of glory. A serial killer cliché either way.”

Bowers laughed. “You do realize I could have killed Mommy Dearest hours ago, Richie. This switch has such a light touch. It’s like a house of cards. One touch and BOOM!”

Richie jerked back, making the killer laugh.

“Now how much fun would that be to see? It’s been so hard not to flick it, I just want to see it so badly. But then you would have been furious with me. And I can’t have that because we’ll see each other again.”

“No fucking way,” Richie shook his head. “Enjoy your last breaths of fresh air because you and your ugly-ass mullet are going right into a padded cell after all this. That’s the end.”

“Of the beginning,” Bowers grinned. “I think I’ll write a book about this. It’ll be a bestseller. You want to write a foreword.”

“Fuck no.”

Bowers shrugged. “Too bad. But keep it in mind on your date later. If you can still do it after me.”

He passed the switch to Richie. Game over.

              Richie wasted no time in bolting out of the car and shouting for them to take the Clown Killer. Henry Bowers smiled calmly as the police and SWAT came rushing in. Richie watched his father pull his mother out of the car and handed the switch over. He handed the switch over to Stan before Ben came running over.

“Richie, I-oof!”

Ben stumbled back at the force of the hug Richie tackled with before hugging him back. “Hey, man. You did it.”

“I did it,” Richie repeated. “He had a fucking mullet.”

“A mullet? Really? I saw a guy with one of those earlier today. It’s the twenty-first century.”

              As the police lead Henry to a car, Richie thought back on the day. He had seen him before. Behind a newspaper at the restaurant. Sitting behind a desk in the precinct. Walking past them in the Derry Inn’s lobby. Taking pictures as they’d been walking past the pier. All day long, he’d been following them.

“He was watching us all day…”

Richie staggered a little, but Ben grabbed hold of his shoulders.

“Richie, breathe. You got him. He’s going away. We’re okay now.”

“Congratulations, Richie,” Belch said, strolling up beside them. “You outsmarted the Clown Killer.”

“Go me,” he muttered.

“I’ve spent the last thirteen years of my life with this person. He was my whole purpose. Now I need to find a new one.”

Ben looked over at him. “Have you considered squash?”

Belch shook his head.

“Give it a shot. I’ll pay a game with you sometime.”

“Thank you, Ben. I’ll see you around.”

“Until next time then,” he said, offering them a limp handshake and adjusted his baseball cap before walking off.

“I hope he’s wrong,” Richie shuddered. “I don’t want to touch this case again.”

“Me neither. But you got through it. You’re stronger than you think, man.”

~~~

“So do I get an explanation for why you were acting like a jackass today?”

Ben snorted as he approached Bev sitting on the hood of Eddie’s car. “I was kind of a jackass, huh?”

“Big time.”

Ben chuckled as he walked over to her. “I don’t know if this will do any good, but I was doing it to help Richie. Be the humor so he could focus on the case.”

“Ahhhh,” Bev nodded, smiling in understanding. “You were being a good friend.”

“A good best friend, and I try to be.”

“Well, you were there for him today. He really needed someone. I can’t imagine going through that…having a serial killer taunt me. Dangling the life of someone I love right in front of me.”

A horrific scenario that would never happen flashed before Ben’s eyes. “Me neither.”

“But the Clown Killer’s gone now,” Bev sighed, sliding off the hood and grinding a cigarette butt under her heel.

“He is. Hey, can I get a ride back with you and Eddie?”

“What about your car?”

“Richie has a date and he intends to see it through.”

Bev gaped. “He has a date?”

“Yup.”

“Well, you can absolutely ride back with us,” Bev told him. “Eddie’s just inside. Said something about having to go to the bathroom, but I bet he’s talking to Richie. He hates bathrooms in movie theaters.”

“It’s a drive-in.”

“Which counts as a movie theater.”

“Ooo and there’s where we have to disagree, Detective Marsh.”

“Oh really?” Bev grinned. “Now I have to hear your reasons for why a drive-in is different than a move theater.”

~~~

“Richie?”

Richie looked up from the tray of goodies he’d gotten for his and Carter’s date. He had been worried that Carter was going to not come, but apparently the Clown Killer story had broken the news and Carter had called to see that he was okay. He also apologized for thinking Richie was trying to cancel on him, so that helped. It would be another few minutes before he was set to arrive, but Richie wanted things to be perfect.

And now Eddie was here, dressed in civilian clothes and looked nervous.

“Eddie?” Richie nearly speared his hand with a straw. “Hey, what are you doing here? Thought you and Bev were going to go Hannibal Lecter his ass. Straightjacket? Grilled face mask? Rent of one of those dollies for transport and all.”

Eddie snorted. “There’s an entire precinct fighting for that job. I’ll take the next one.”

“Cool, cool, cool. So…you’re here because…?”

Eddie walked a little closer. “I wanted to tell you that you were…really great today. Incredible, actually. I couldn’t even imagine functioning like that, especially with your mom’s life on the line like that. I know things are rocky with you too and I’m proud of you for that.”

“Probably a good thing he didn’t go after your mom,” Richie shrugged. “Or your ex.”

“Ha ha,” Eddie laughed sarcastically. “Look, I know this is probably the worst timing that I can have for this. But I was thinking after Bowers got taken away about how I could have lost you if we didn’t win. That scared me a lot. I know we butt heads and banter, but I really like spending time with you. Both on the clock and off it. Like when you tried to help Bev throw me a birthday party.”

“That was still your fault for keeping that book.”

“A lot of cops keep books like that,” Eddie shot back. “But you’re getting me off track. You still showed you cared about me in a way that I’m not used to. A really healthy way. Thinking about losing that and you tonight made me think a lot. Because I am scared about losing you. I know you and Ben are probably about to see a movie, but…can I take you to dinner instead?”

Richie felt his heart sink. “Detective Kaspbrak, are you asking me out on a date?”

“That was the intention.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Richie sighed. “I cannot believe this. You really do have the worst timing.”

Eddie looked freaked out. “What?”

“I can’t go on a date with you…because I’m about to go on one.”

“You’re-what?”

As if on cue, Carter walked into the lobby. Richie and Eddie turned to look at him, then back at each other.

“Then- then you can forget everything I just said,” Eddie backed up. “I had no idea, I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow, Tozier.”

“See you…” Richie tried to say, but Eddie was already speed walking out of the lobby, nearly running into Carter on the way.

“Whoa, he is in a hurry!” Carter remarked as he reached Richie. “Hey, how are you?”

Richie watched Eddie run out of the doors and towards his car. Ben and Bev were standing by it, and Richie could imagine Eddie yelling at Bev to get off the hood.

“Richie?” Carter asked. “Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I thought I was going to be the one stood up this time.”

[thestarsaroundyourscars]

Can we get a part two of hanzier and the online meeting thing where Richie gets cut off before he finds out Mike also lives in Derry pleaseeeeeeee

It’s been a month but here it is! You can read part one here or read both on AO3 here 

Richie’s phone started ringing the moment he walked out of the store, holding popcorn and other snacks in his arms. He struggled to grab the phone and brought it up to his ear in the final ring. 

“Why the fuck aren’t you back yet?” Eddie asked in greeting, Richie let out a snort. 

“Aw Eds do you miss me already?” 

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie snarked with no real bite. “But seriously where are you? Everyone’s here already, except you and Bev.”

“Eduardo chill. I just finished picking up the snacks, I’m waiting for Bev to come back with the movies.” Richie explained, searching the street for any sign of Bev. They decided to split up to make it to Bill’s house faster. 

“Well hurry dude. We’re waiting. Hey did you get my⎯”

“Fucking disgusting lemon soda? Of course I did Eds.”

Richie could practically hear Eddie rolling his eyes through the phone. “Don’t⎯”

“⎯call me that, I know. Well guess what, fuck y⎯ Shit!” Richie’s sentence was cut off when he felt something collide against the back of his legs. He lost his balance and almost dropped his phone, managing to keep his grip. The bags he carried weren’t that lucky. “Son of a bitch.” Richie muttered under his breath, staring at the snacks scattered on the floor.

“Rich? What happened?”

Before he could answer Eddie, he felt something wet lapping at his hand, he looked down to see a dog, staring up at him, head lolled to a side. “Hey buddy.” Richie said, patting the dog’s head. He wagged his tail and forgetting about the snacks, he crouched in front of him and the dog started licking his face. “Woah okay, at least buy me dinner first.”

“Richie who the fuck are you talking to?” Eddie asked, voice small and distant coming from phone still in Richie’s hand. 

“It’s just a dog Eds don’t be jealous. He pushed me. Yeah he did.” He said, scratching behind his ear. “But that’s okay because you’re cute, the cutest boy aren’t you?” Richie furrowed his eyebrows, studying the dog’s face. “Wait I think I know you, why do I think I know⎯”

“Mr. Chips!” A voice called and the dog perked up, Richie’s frown deepened.

He repeated the name under his breath, wondering why it sounded so familiar. He looked at the dog again and this time it clicked. “Holy shit!” 

“Mr. Chips!” The voice called again, closer this time. Richie’s stomach tightened with nerves and excitement and he looked up at the guy the voice and the dog belonged to, confirming his suspicions. “Why did you run off like that buddy?” 

Richie’s mouth fell open and he stared at the guy as he kneeled on the sidewalk and clasped a leash on the dog’s collar. His eyes darted from the dog to the snacks on the floor and he frowned. “Shit did he do that? I’m so sorry man, I’ll pay for⎯”

“Mike?” Richie cut in, finding his voice. The guy looked up at him for the first time and his eyes widened comically. 

“Richie?” Mike asked, his face breaking into a grin. “Oh my god.”

That grin ⎯that Richie’s computer screen didn’t do any justice⎯ threw Richie for a loop. “I can’t⎯ fuck is this another dream?” Richie asked, shaking his head. It had been almost two weeks since Bev and him had tried the chat room, since he had met Mike. He never expected to see him again in his computer, let alone in real life. 

“Another dream? You dream about me?” Mike asked with an amused smile. 

Richie’s eyes widened when he realized what he had said and blushed furiously. He didn’t want to admit it but he had actually dreamed that he met Mike in person a few days ago. Before he had to lie about it though, his phone started ringing. “Uh give me a second.” He said to Mike, standing up and answering the call. “Hello?”

“You hung up on me asshole.” Eddie said annoyed. 

“Oh sorry Eds. I ran into a friend.” Richie said. Mike grinned up at him and Richie’s stomach filled with butterflies. 

“A friend?” Eddie asked sounding genuinely confused. “You mean Bev? Because we’re the only friends that you have.”

“Fuck you Eddie, I have more friends.” Eddie let out a snort. “I do. His name is Mike.”

“Wait Mike? As in the Mike you’ve been whining about for two weeks?” 

Richie grimaced, hoping that Mike wasn’t able to hear what Eddie was saying on the phone but based on his slight blush and shy smile, he definitely could. Eddie always had a habit of speaking too loud. Richie huffed, and it was him their friends complained about. 

“Shut up dude. Listen we’ll see you soon.” He said and before Eddie could whine and tell them to hurry up, he hung up on him, he knew he would hear all about it later but he couldn’t care less at the moment. Mike was staring at him and Richie tried to come up with something to say but his tongue got all tied up when Mike stood up and Richie had to look up at him. He had guessed Mike was taller than him but he hadn’t thought of how that would make him feel. He tried to gather his thoughts, running his eyes over Mike, blatantly checking him out. But that did the exact opposite. “Fuck man you’re even hotter in person.” Richie blurted out before he could stop himself.

Mike chuckled and Richie could feel his eyes moving over him, he fidgeted nervously wishing he looked better. He knew his hair was a mess, his glasses askew and he was lanky, no muscle where Mike was fucking built. He was pale and his teeth were crooked and⎯ 

And he had Mike’s thumb running over his cheekbone while he smiled softly at him, making Richie feel like he was melting from the inside. “And you’re prettier.” He said and Richie choked on his spit, cheeks flaring. “Especially when you blush.”

Richie let out a strained laugh. “You’re such a sweet talker Mikey.” He huffed, willing his face to cool down. “What⎯ What are you doing here?” 

“In Derry?” Richie nodded. “I live here. My family’s farm is just outside of town.” 

“And you didn’t think to mention that?” It would’ve saved Richie a lot of time that he invested in trying to get paired up with Mike again in the video chat website.

“I tried but then the connection fell through.”

“Oh right.” Richie chuckled. “Fucking internet man.” Mike chuckled too and Mr. Chips barked, attracting their attention. “Hey buddy.” Richie said, crouching again. “I knew you looked familiar. Do you remember me?”

Mr. Chips wagged his tail, nuzzling Richie’s hand. “He might. He never takes off running like that unless he’s after someone.” Mike said, watching them with a soft expression. “Sorry about your stuff.” He pointed at the snacks, still on the floor. 

Richie shrugged, gathering them and throwing them in the bag. “Don’t worry man. I just won’t tell Eddie his snacks were on the floor or he’ll go on a rant about germs for hours.” 

“Was that the guy on the phone?” Richie nodded. “Is he your⎯”

“Best friend since we were in diapers.” Richie said. “I told you I was single remember?”

Mike shrugged. “A lot can change in two weeks.”

“Well that didn’t. And neither did the fact that I’m really gay in case you were wondering.” Richie said, eyes moving over Mike’s chest and broad shoulders. 

Mike grinned. “Good.”

“Rich! I have the movies, did you get the⎯ Oh hi.” Bev appeared next to Richie, coming to a stop when he noticed her friend was talking to someone else. Mike waved shyly.

“Hey Bev. This is Mike, Mike this is⎯”

“Mike? Chatroulette Mike?” Bev asked, wide eyes darting between Mike and Richie. “Holy shit.”

“That’s what I said.” Richie chuckled. 

“Holy shit!” She said again, louder and slapped Richie’s arm. “Fuck dude, I know you said he was hot as fuck but damn.” 

“He said that?” Mike asked Bev but he was staring at Richie, smirking. “What else did he say?”

“He whined and cried for two weeks.” Bev said, Richie glared at her but she shrugged it off. “He would go through a bunch of chats pretty much every day trying to get paired up with you again. He said he needed to find the love of his⎯”

“Okay!” Richie said, high pitched and alarmed, muffling the end of Bev’s sentence but the way Mike’s eyes crinkled at the corners of his eyes told Richie that he knew how she planned to finish it. Richie’s ears felt like they were burning. He fished the keys of his truck from his pocket and shoved them in Bev’s hands. “Here get in the truck, I’ll be right there.”

She rolled her eyes but accepted the keys. “Fine fine but if you get in that car and you don’t have Mike’s number with you I will kick your ass.”

“Go!” Richie said, Mike was trying to hide his laughter behind his hand. Bev waved at Mike and walked away. “I’m⎯ sorry about that.” Richie said. 

Mike grinned. “Did you really do that? Try to get paired up with me again?”

Richie scrunched up his face. “Maybe? It’s pathetic I know.”

“I think it’s cute.” Mike said. “I think you’re cute.” He smiled when Richie blushed even more. “I would’ve done the same if you hadn’t told me you were from Derry. I figured we would run into each other sooner or later. I’m glad it was the former.” 

“Me too man.” 

They stared at each other, smiling nervously until Richie heard a car honking loudly and recognized it. He scrunched up his face. “That’s Bev. I have to go, our friends are waiting for us.”

“Oh yeah of course.”

“Do you― uh. Would you want to see each other again? Maybe go out? With me?” Richie asked, wringing his hands together. He was nervous but he wasn’t going to let Mike go again without making sure they could see each other again. 

“Like on a date?”

“Yeah.”

Mike grinned. “Definitely.” 

Mr. Chips barked and Richie looked down at him. “Of course you can come too buddy.” He said, petting the dog.

He grabbed his phone and gave it to Mike. He watched as he typed down his number. Because Mike wanted Richie to call him. To see him again. To go out with him. Richie couldn’t keep the smile from his face if he tried. “Here. Call me Richie.” Their fingers brushed together when accepting the phone, making a shiver run down his spine. 

“A video call?” Richie asked with a grin that Mike returned. 

“Yeah.” He said, tightening his hold on the leash and starting to walk backwards away from Richie, pulling Mr. Chips along. “And if you’re lucky I will take my shirt off for you this time.” He winked and the words made Richie’s stomach coil. 

“You can’t say stuff like that man.” Richie said with a strained laugh. “Now that’s all I’ll think about during movie night!” 

Mike barked out a laugh, waving at Richie one final time before turning around and walking away. Richie kept his eyes on him until he disappeared. Then he started walking towards his car, wondering just how mad his friends would be if he skipped movie night, locking himself up in Bill’s bathroom to take Mike up on his offer.

Tag list: @daddyphantomtbh @yes-dillman-yes @richietoaster @beepbeeprichiellc @its-stranger-than-you-think @lemonaayyee @losers-gotta-stick-together @tinyarmedtrex   @richiefuckfacetozier @sam-i-am2468 @richardtoz @s-s-georgie @reddie-for-anything @eddiefuckinkaspbrak @constantreaderfool @thundercatseddie @captainbartholomew @mirandonsky @proton-disaster-blaster @alargedepresso @purplepoisonedgem @pan-ini @reddie-to-cryy @reddieforlove @trashmouthnick @multi-fandom-wby @wheezyeds @nancynwheeler @did-someone-say-reddie@madi-personal @reddie-tozibrak @lover-mouth @atownofeggs @that-weird-girls-blog @appojoos @castielwinovak @fcngirltrxsh @spirited-marvel @fuck-the-sushi (if you want to be added, let me know!)

@inthebreadbinwrites I’m tagging you because you also requested a part 2. 

[analyzingdestiel]

DESTIEL REVIEW FOR 5x3: FREE TO BE YOU AND ME

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

SCENE 1

DEAN dampens a washcloth in the motel room sink and starts to clean his jacket. CASTIEL appears behind him. DEAN sees him in the mirror and startles.

DEAN God.

DEAN thumps the sink.

DEAN Don't do that.

CASTIEL Hello, Dean.

DEAN turns around; CASTIEL is inches from him.

DEAN Cas, we've talked about this. Personal space?

CASTIEL My apologies.

CASTIEL steps back. DEAN grabs his jacket and walks toward the bed.

DEAN How'd you find me? I thought I was flying below the angel radar.

DEAN rubs his ribs to illustrate the point.

CASTIEL You are. Bobby told me where you were.

CASTIEL looks around the motel room, which has no signs of SAM's presence, not even a second bed.

CASTIEL Where's Sam?

DEAN puts on his jacket without looking at CASTIEL.

DEAN Me and Sam are taking separate vacations for a while. So.

DEAN You find God yet? More importantly, can I have my damn necklace back, please?

CASTIEL No, I haven't found him. That's why I'm here. I need your help.

DEAN With what? God hunt? Not interested.

CASTIEL It's not God. It's someone else.

DEAN Who?

CASTIEL Archangel. The one who killed me.

DEAN 'Scuse me?

CASTIEL His name is Raphael.

DEAN You were wasted by a teenage mutant ninja angel?

CASTIEL I've heard whispers that he's walking the earth. This is a rare opportunity.

DEAN For what? Revenge?

CASTIEL Information.

DEAN goes back over to the sink, picks up his knife and a washcloth, and starts to clean the knife.

DEAN So, what, you think you can find this dude and he's just gonna spill God's address?

CASTIEL Yes, because we are gonna trap him and interrogate him.

DEAN pauses and turns back.

DEAN You're serious about this.

CASTIEL turns around to face DEAN. DEAN drops the washcloth and walks back toward CASTIEL.

DEAN So, what, I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?

CASTIEL stares at DEAN, confused. DEAN goes around CASTIEL and does something offscreen with the knife.

DEAN Give me one good reason why I should do this.

CASTIEL Because you're Michael's vessel and no angel will dare harm you.

DEAN looks at CASTIEL.

DEAN Oh, so I'm your bullet shield.

CASTIEL I need your help because you are the only one who'll help me. Please.

DEAN considers.

DEAN All right, fine. Where is he?

CASTIEL Maine. Let's go.

CASTIEL reaches to touch DEAN's forehead with two fingers. DEAN leans away.

DEAN Whoa.

CASTIEL removes his hand.

CASTIEL What?

DEAN Last time you zapped me someplace I didn't poop for a week. We're driving.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

DESTIEL REVIEW FOR SCENE 1

DEAN dampens a washcloth in the motel room sink and starts to clean his jacket. CASTIEL appears behind him. DEAN sees him in the mirror and startles.

DEAN God.

DEAN thumps the sink.

DEAN Don't do that.

I find it interesting that Dean has been unable to sense Castiel before he appears as of late. Because Dean has the cloaking symbols along his ribs, it now makes it harder for Castiel to hone in on Dean's frequency to find him. I wonder if because of that, Dean doesn't feel that "honing in". Perhaps this is what alerted Dean of his presence in previous episodes; he could feel Castiel honing in on him. Castiel is still able to sort of penetrate Dean's subconscious it seems, but only once they are already together/he knows where he is.

Either that or perhaps some days Dean is just not as receptive to Castiel's frequency and so doesn't pick up on it at all times.

CASTIEL Hello, Dean.

DEAN turns around; CASTIEL is inches from him.

DEAN Cas, we've talked about this. Personal space?

CASTIEL My apologies.

Dean's discomfort with Castiel's proximity is interesting though I suppose one does enjoy their personal space. I also find it interesting that Dean apparently brought up to Castiel that he stands too close, off screen "we've talked about this". Why it makes him uncomfortable could be for a number of reasons. Last episode we were given the impression that Dean is uneasy around Castiel especially when he is close to him. I feel it's because Castiel is quite penetrative whether he intends to be or not and it makes Dean feel vulnerable. One could also say that Dean is alarmed by the proximity because Castiel is in a male vessel and it is uncomfortable for him being that close to another male. The way he swallows nervously and looks from Castiel's eyes to his lips hints at a sort of sexual thinking; which is common with Dean. He is often thinking of sex. I think here he was aware that Castiel’s face was quite close to his own; basically is within kissing range.

Either way, his discomfort and nervousness is obvious. Why he was nervous could be left up to the viewers interpretation but it initially gave me the impression that Castiel was too close to his own face and that “it’s weird with another dude”. Dean may or may not have some desires that he is repressing; it’s not stated so much as it is possibly hinted at.

I've realized Castiel doesn't stand this close to others, not even other angels, which leads me to believe it's not so much a lack of understanding of boundaries. Perhaps because he is attached to Dean, he feels standing closer is acceptable. According to Castiel he's been in and around Dean's form; for him, he may consider separation at all to be quite the distance apart.

DEAN So, what, I'm Thelma and you're Louise and we're just going to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?

I find it note worthy that Dean refers to Thelma and Louise and Ernie and Bert in this episode. Both of these couples have the controversy surrounding them that they're homosexual. Basically, they are shipped, just as Dean and Castiel are. Dean even says (later) that he knows for a fact Ernie and Bert are gay. I feel this may have been deliberate on the writers' end. Character-wise it's also possible that it means something, perhaps something going on within Dean's subconscious. Or it could be a mere coincidence.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

SCENE 2

DEAN and CASTIEL get out of the Impala.

Waterville, Maine

DEAN And we're here why?

CASTIEL A deputy sheriff laid eyes on the archangel.

DEAN And he still has eyes? All right, what's the plan?

CASTIEL We'll...tell the officer that he witnessed an angel of the Lord, and the officer will tell us where the angel is.

DEAN Seriously? You're going to walk in there and tell him the truth?

CASTIEL Why not?

DEAN Because we're humans.

DEAN pulls out another fake ID and stashes it inside CASTIEL's coat, then adjusts CASTIEL's coat and tie.

DEAN And when humans want something really, really bad, we lie.

CASTIEL Why?

DEAN Because that's how you become President.

INT. SHERIFF'S DEPARTMENT – DAY

DEAN Deputy Framingham?

The DEPUTY turns around. DEAN holds up an FBI ID.

DEAN Hi. Alonzo Mosely, FBI. This is my partner, Eddie Moscone.

CASTIEL does nothing.

DEAN Also FBI.

CASTIEL does nothing. DEAN stares at him. CASTIEL catches on and pulls out his FBI ID, which he displays upside-down. DEAN turns it over for him.

DEAN He's, uh, he's new. Mind if we ask you a few questions?

CASTIEL looks at the ID, curious.

FRAMINGHAM Yeah, sure. Talk here, though.

FRAMINGHAM indicates his right ear, leading DEAN and CASTIEL to his office.

FRAMINGHAM Hearing's all blown to hell in this one.

DEAN That happen recently?

FRAMINGHAM Yeah. Gas station. Why you're here, isn't it?

DEAN Yes, it is.

They all sit down.

DEAN You mind just, uh, running us through what happened?

FRAMINGHAM A call came in. Disturbance out at the Pump and Go on Route 4.

DEAN What kind of disturbance?

FRAMINGHAM Would not have believed my eyes if I hadn't seen it myself. We're talking a riot. Full scale.

DEAN How many?

FRAMINGHAM Thirty, forty, in all-out kill-or-be-killed combat?

DEAN Any idea what set them off?

CASTIEL It's angels and demons, probably.

FRAMINGHAM looks at CASTIEL. CASTIEL looks back.

CASTIEL They're skirmishing all over the globe.

FRAMINGHAM Come again?

FRAMINGHAM turns back to DEAN.

FRAMINGHAM What did he say?

DEAN and CASTIEL speak simultaneously.

DEAN Nothing. Nothing.

CASTIEL Demons. Demons.

CASTIEL shuts up.

DEAN Demons, you know, drink, adultery. We all have our demons, Walt.

FRAMINGHAM looks back and forth.

FRAMINGHAM I guess.

DEAN looks at CASTIEL.

DEAN Anyway.

DEAN returns his attention to FRAMINGHAM.

DEAN What happened next?

FRAMINGHAM Freaking explosion, that's what. They said it was one of those underground gas tanks, but, uh, I don't think so.

DEAN Why not?

FRAMINGHAM Wasn't your usual fireball. It was, um—

CASTIEL Pure white.

FRAMINGHAM Yeah. Gas station was leveled. Everyone was...it was just horrible. And I see this one guy, kneeling, real focused-like, not a damn scratch on him.

DEAN You know him?

FRAMINGHAM Donnie Finneman. Mechanic there.

DEAN Let me guess, he just, uh, vanished into thin air?

FRAMINGHAM Uh, no, Kolchak. He's down at Saint Pete's.

CASTIEL turns to DEAN.

CASTIEL Saint Pete's.

DEAN Thank you. ST. PETER'S HOSPITAL

INT. HOSPITAL – DAY

DONNIE is sitting in a wheelchair, catatonic. DEAN and CASTIEL observe him from the hallway window.

DEAN I take it that's not Raphael anymore.

CASTIEL Just an empty vessel.

DEAN So is this what I'm looking at if Michael jumps in my bones?

CASTIEL No, not at all. Michael is much more powerful. It'll be far worse for you.

DEAN looks away.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

DESTIEL REVIEW FOR SCENE 2

CASTIEL We'll...tell the officer that he witnessed an angel of the Lord, and the officer will tell us where the angel is.

DEAN Seriously? You're going to walk in there and tell him the truth?

CASTIEL Why not?

DEAN Because we're humans.

DEAN pulls out another fake ID and stashes it inside CASTIEL's coat, then adjusts CASTIEL's coat and tie.

This scene is endearing. We see, for one, that Castiel doesn't understand how to behave like a normal human being and that he will need to learn some things from Dean.

And the adjusting of Castiel's coat and tie just goes to show that Dean is becoming more comfortable around Castiel, which is important. I find it funny how Dean is unwilling to allow Castiel into his personal space, but he feels he is allowed into Castiel's. So the issue isn't so much that he wants his personal space. Perhaps this is based on Dean's need for control; and he feels out of control unless he initiates it.

Other moments during this scene were enjoyable. They make an entertaining couple. I feel many could ship them because of this; they are quite funny together.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

SCENE 3

DEAN walks through the empty cabin, paging through John's journal. He sets it down on the table and turns. CASTIEL is there, holding a ceramic jar.

DEAN Where've you been?

CASTIEL Jerusalem.

DEAN Oh, how was it?

CASTIEL Arid.

CASTIEL sets the jar on the table.

DEAN What's that?

CASTIEL It's oil. It's very special. Very rare.

CASTIEL sits down.

DEAN Okay, so we trap Raphael with a nice vinaigrette?

CASTIEL No.

DEAN So this ritual of yours, when does it got to go down?

CASTIEL Sunrise.

DEAN Tell me something. You keep saying we're gonna trap this guy. Isn't that kinda like trapping a hurricane with a butterfly net?

CASTIEL No, it's harder.

DEAN Do we have any chance of surviving this?

CASTIEL You do.

DEAN So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow.

CASTIEL Yes.

DEAN Well. Last night on earth. What are your plans?

CASTIEL I just thought I'd sit here quietly.

DEAN Come on, anything? Booze, women?

CASTIEL looks at DEAN and away, uncomfortable.

DEAN You have been with women before. Right? Or an angel, at least?

CASTIEL rubs the back of his neck.

DEAN You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?

CASTIEL Look, I've never had occasion, okay?

DEAN All right.

DEAN grabs his jacket.

DEAN Let me tell you something. There are two things I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay. Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch. Let's go.

DEAN leaves. CASTIEL stares after him, then follows.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

DESTIEL REVIEW FOR SCENE 3

DEAN Do we have any chance of surviving this?

CASTIEL You do.

DEAN So odds are you're a dead man tomorrow.

CASTIEL Yes.

So Castiel is aware that he will die tomorrow, yet he shows no fear what so ever. This is very different compared to what we saw of Castiel in season 4. He was terrified. "They will kill us, all of us!"

Which brings me back to something I said in previous reviews. Was Castiel so terrified about rebelling because it put DEAN at risk? In this situation, Dean has a chance of surviving, and Castiel is no longer terrified. Fascinating.

DEAN Well. Last night on earth. What are your plans?

CASTIEL I just thought I'd sit here quietly.

Castiel just wanted to sit there with Dean quietly for his last night on Earth.

DEAN Come on, anything? Booze, women?

CASTIEL looks at DEAN and away, uncomfortable.

DEAN You have been with women before. Right? Or an angel, at least?

CASTIEL rubs the back of his neck.

DEAN You mean to tell me you've never been up there doing a little cloud-seeding?

CASTIEL Look, I've never had occasion, okay?

Dean's misunderstanding of how it works is quite hilarious. It would be impossible for two light beings to become intimate on a physical level. They are not physical beings. There is also no such thing as male or female where Castiel is from; there is only masculine and feminine energies, and light beings hold both. One of the energies is often more dominant than the other but for the most part they are both masculine and feminine. Angels do not have a gender; that is merely how human beings perceive them. They select a specific form for the comfort of humans when they come to us in dreams or in visions. But ultimately they are energy; there are no males or females.

The closest a light being could come to sexual intercourse without a physical body would be more like a merging of energy. Which he's done with Dean many times, when he penetrates Dean's subconscious.

Dean simply doesn't understand because he is human.

I find Castiel's discomfort entertaining; he is very sheepish about this topic. "I've never had occasion, okay?" Of course there wasn't the occasion, it is an impossibility in the way that Dean imagines it. Knowing this, I question why Castiel became uncomfortable. Perhaps because he feels Dean is judging him? He may be uncomfortable with the judgement coming from Dean more than anything else.

I feel, if anything, Dean could be the closest he's ever came to that desire. Castiel gave up everything he ever knew for Dean; he gave up every being in Heaven for Dean. Castiel didn't originally have desires. He said himself that Dean was the one that made him start "feeling". There would be no desire for intimacy if there were no emotions.

Though through Jimmy's vessel, he has never mated with another, and that is for obvious reasons; he'd been quite occupied with many things that were far more important than experiencing physical pleasure. I don't feel that Castiel had even considered it. The only human he really has interacted with on any intimate level is Dean. If he had considered it, I don't feel he would have considered doing it with anyone but Dean.

I wanted to mention this. Since Castiel is an angel, that means he would be very familiar with the Bible. Some Bibles state that lying with the same sex is detestable, though others are said not to have this in them. Some of these words are considered words of God, and others are considered words of man. Even if Castiel does follow the Bible, the version that considers homosexuality detestable, this wouldn't be relevant any longer because Castiel has rebelled and has even agreed to "sin" with Dean by attending the strip club. However uncomfortable, he does not say no to Dean. Also, does Castiel even view himself as a man? Does he identify as male because of his vessel? I honestly doubt he does. That would be like dressing up as a zombie on Halloween and believing you are actually a zombie; you know you're not a zombie, that is just the costume. So even if Castiel were to become physically intimate with Dean, would it count as homosexual, considering the vessel is not actually Castiel? Would he resist for Jimmy's sake? Would he have to, if Jimmy is often not even aware, and if it were Castiel's decision to become intimate rather than Jimmy's?

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

SCENE 4

DEAN drinks. CASTIEL looks terrified.

DEAN Hey. Relax.

CASTIEL This is a den of iniquity. I should not be here.

DEAN Dude, you full-on rebelled against heaven. Iniquity is one of the perks.

A HOOKER approaches. DEAN notices.

DEAN Showtime.

HOOKER Hi. What's your name?

CASTIEL tries not to look at her.

DEAN Cas.

CASTIEL startles.

DEAN His name is Cas. What's your name?

HOOKER Chastity.

DEAN Chastity.

CASTIEL drinks his beer.

DEAN Wow. Is that kismet or what, buddy? Well, he likes you, you like him, so dayenu.

CHASTITY tugs CASTIEL up.

CHASTITY Come on, baby.

DEAN catches CASTIEL on the way past.

DEAN Hey, listen. Take this.

DEAN holds out a handful of money.

DEAN If she asks for a credit card, no. Now just stick to the basics, okay? Do not order off the menu. Go get her, tiger.

CASTIEL stays still.

DEAN Don't make me push you.

CASTIEL takes the money and turns to follow CHASTITY. Another HOOKER walks past; DEAN follows her. She and DEAN clink glasses at the bar.

DEAN Well, cheers to you.

A scream offscreen. DEAN goes to investigate.

INT. BROTHEL BACK CORRIDOR – NIGHT

CHASTITY Get out of my face! Leave me alone! Bastard! Screw you, jerk!

She throws something at CASTIEL, who is a little disheveled.

CHASTITY I'll kill you!

She storms past DEAN.

CHASTITY Screw you too! God! Oh! Jerk!

DEAN approaches CASTIEL.

DEAN The hell did you do?

CASTIEL I don't know. I just looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn't her fault that her father Gene ran off. It was because he hated his job at the post office.

DEAN Oh, no, man.

CASTIEL What?

DEAN This whole industry runs on absent fathers. It's, it's the natural order.

Two BOUNCERS enter from the door CHASTITY left through.

DEAN We should go. Come on.

He and CASTIEL head for the door at the opposite end of the corridor.

EXT. ALLEY – NIGHT

DEAN is laughing as he closes the door behind himself and CASTIEL.

CASTIEL What's so funny?

DEAN Oh, nothing. Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years.

DEAN's face falls as he realizes.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

DESTIEL REVIEW FOR SCENE 4

DEAN drinks. CASTIEL looks terrified.

DEAN Hey. Relax.

CASTIEL This is a den of iniquity. I should not be here.

DEAN Dude, you full-on rebelled against heaven. Iniquity is one of the perks.

Castiel is terrified, he considers all of this sinful for obvious reasons. Dean convinces him that he is able to sin because he rebelled against Heaven. Castiel drinks the entirety of his beer during this scene due to how fearful he is of the situation. It's clear that Castiel doesn't want to have relations. He just wanted to sit quietly with Dean for his last hours; this is quite uncomfortable and Castiel doesn't understand it. He does not seem to have any sort of sex drive which makes perfect sense considering he is not human.

DEAN If she asks for a credit card, no. Now just stick to the basics, okay? Do not order off the menu. Go get her, tiger.

CASTIEL stays still.

DEAN Don't make me push you.

The only reason Castiel did it was because Dean forced him to. It's clear from Castiel's end that this was not something he wanted or cared to do. One could look at this as Castiel giving into Dean as he has done in the past; Dean is his weakness. Despite the fact that it involves sexual pleasure with women, it is not entirely relevant because sexuality isn't the question here, it is whether or not Dean and Castiel are in love. Whether or not they are monogamous, polygamous, dating, not dating. I am not looking to find the answer to these questions, just whether or not Dean and Castiel are in love. Whether they sleep with other people doesn't matter because you can be in love with one person and still have sexual relations with another person. In fact, you can even love more than one person at a time, just in different ways. Sometimes you love someone more than another person but they're both loved none the less. This scene is only partly relevant. I didn't want to bring sexuality into it because Castiel is not actually male. Him not wanting to sleep with a woman is not in favor of "homosexuality". That doesn't matter where Castiel is concerned because he is not male, he has a male vessel and that fact is very important and must not be forgotten. Castiel's discomfort of and lack of a desire to sleep with a woman is not, for me, proof of homosexuality. For one, because there is no question of sexuality where Castiel is concerned because he is not a man. And for two, because his lack of desire to sleep with a random woman is not because he wants instead to sleep with a random man. I feel sleeping with a random man would make him extremely uncomfortable as well. He is not used to this sort of thing. 

Although, one could say that Castiel would prefer to sleep with a man; not just any man, but with Dean. Not because of Dean's gender but because Dean is Dean. Dean is the one Castiel is attached to and bound to. It's not a gender thing, it's a soul thing. If Castiel did want to have relations with Dean, I feel it would be out of curiosity and because Dean is the only human he really has a connection with. I feel if Dean had presented Castiel with two options; do you want to sleep with that woman or do you want to sleep with me, he'd choose Dean because of their connection. Things are different for light beings. Humans base things more on the physical body whereas light beings don't always have a physical body and so base things instead on the soul.

Who are we to say that Castiel even views Dean as having a physical body, considering he is a light being? He may view things entirely different than a human; he may only see Dean's energy and not his physical body. Dean's energy would be genderless as well. He may be able to perceive Dean through Jimmy's eyes, as Jimmy, a human, would see him, but ultimately he is a light being and vision is different for them than it is for us.

And Dean wanting to sleep with a woman is not proof against Destiel. Just as Dean sleeping with a random woman isn't against Anna. Dean just isn't the "one person" kind of guy. Even if he did love Castiel, I doubt he would resist being with women because of that.

At this point I don't see anything romantic between Dean and Castiel. They are being portrayed here as friends more than anything. Perhaps even brotherly, as if Castiel has taken Sam's place. If there are any sort of romantic feelings, they would be coming from Castiel, who ultimately would have a different idea of what love is compared to Dean in the first place. I imagine if it were up to Castiel, he'd just be around Dean and that would be enough for him. I don't feel Castiel is at the point where he would want to have sexual relations. He may be curious if anything but I don't feel he is "aching" for it.

DEAN The hell did you do?

CASTIEL I don't know. I just looked her in the eyes and told her it wasn't her fault that her father Gene ran off. It was because he hated his job at the post office.

Proof that Castiel does indeed read minds. So he knows what Dean thinks and feels. So that moment in Season 4 when Dean was asleep and dreaming of Hell, and Castiel asked what he was dreaming about, he already knew. Which brings me to the fact that, he only asked in case Dean wanted to talk about it.

This scene also proves that Castiel doesn't care for physical intimacy as much as he cares about a merging of energies. Castiel's penetrative stare, that is indeed what he does when he's going into the mind. I love how I picked up on these things and they're actually proving to be true. The writers are really good. Either way, Castiel, instead of having sex with the woman, stared into her eyes and "linked" with her. For Castiel, I feel this is the equivalent of sex, as I have said in previous reviews. And he's done this with Dean many, many times.

Considering Castiel is an angel, a light being, it makes this pairing interesting to analyze. It'd be easy to analyze if it were merely from Dean's end, being human. But because Castiel doesn't go by human rules, it's quite a challenge.

According to Castiel, his relationship with Dean could be what a human would consider romantic.

One thing that is the same, whether angel or human, is love. There's no confusion in that area. And Castiel definitely feels that for Dean. His actions and even his statements have made that clear. Uriel has come out and said Castiel likes Dean. Castiel has said he began feeling emotions, because of Dean. Gotten close to Dean. He sacrificed everything he ever knew for Dean. Ask yourself; if you were to sacrifice everything and everyone you ever knew, for one person, wouldn't it be clear that you had some very strong feelings for them?

DEAN Oh, nothing. Whoo. It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. It's been more than a long time. Years.

This could be seen as Dean really enjoying spending time with Castiel. Though I feel that they were trying to portray, here, that Dean is happier without Sam around. None the less, Castiel was the reason he laughed, not Sam's absence. Sam's absence just made it easier for him to "let go". Though I don't consider this proof for or against Castiel because the attention is being brought to this because of Sam, not so much Castiel. The writers wanted to make it clear that Dean feels better when he doesn't have to worry about Sam. Either way, he is definitely bonding with Castiel and their friendship now feels more solid.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

SCENE 6

DEAN drives. CASTIEL rides shotgun.

DEAN You okay?

CASTIEL is silent.

DEAN Look, I'll be the first to tell you that this little crusade of yours is nuts, but I do know a little something about missing fathers.

CASTIEL What do you mean?

DEAN I mean there were times when I was looking for my dad when all logic said that he was dead, but I knew in my heart he was still alive. Who cares what some ninja turtle says, Cas, what do you believe?

CASTIEL I believe he's out there.

DEAN Good. Then go find him.

CASTIEL What about you?

DEAN What about me? I don't know. Honestly, I'm good. I can't believe I'm saying that, but I am, I'm really good.

CASTIEL Even without your brother?

DEAN Especially without my brother. I mean, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. I mean, I've had more fun with you in the past twenty-four hours than I've had with Sam in years, and you're not that much fun. It's funny, you know, I've been so chained to my family, but now that I'm alone, hell, I'm happy.

DEAN looks over; the shotgun seat is empty. His smile falters.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

DESTIEL REVIEW FOR SCENE 6

DEAN You okay?

CASTIEL is silent.

Dean is looking to comfort Castiel, just as Castiel has always sought to comfort Dean (as best he could given the circumstances). An important turning point.

DEAN Look, I'll be the first to tell you that this little crusade of yours is nuts, but I do know a little something about missing fathers.

CASTIEL What do you mean?

Just as I mentioned in review of 4x10, that Anna and Dean can not only relate to the father issues, but Castiel as well. Proof still of the similarities between Dean/Anna and Dean/Castiel.

DEAN Especially without my brother. I mean, I spent so much time worrying about the son of a bitch. I mean, I've had more fun with you in the past twenty-four hours than I've had with Sam in years, and you're not that much fun. It's funny, you know, I've been so chained to my family, but now that I'm alone, hell, I'm happy.

DEAN looks over; the shotgun seat is empty. His smile falters.

Dean saying he's had more fun with Castiel in 24 hours than he's had with Sam in years. Though he states here that it's not because Castiel is "fun", but rather, because he doesn't have to worry about Sam. So I can't consider this proof towards Destiel because of that.

Dean says he's happy when he's alone but once Castiel is gone, his smile disappears. This could be based more on Sam being gone than Castiel being gone, or it could be related to both. Either way, he was smiling and happy just before Castiel disappears and he realized he was alone again. Perhaps Castiel served as a good distraction.

********************************************************************************************************************************************************

DESTIEL REVIEW FOR EPISODE OVERALL

From Castiel’s point of view, I think it’s clear that he loves Dean. I don’t feel he is seeking anything from Dean on a physical level. I feel it’s quite pure and innocent, though intense and overpowering.

From Dean’s side, I feel he considers Castiel to be a good friend at this point and that he enjoys spending time with him. Nervousness with closeness and referencing gay couples may or may not mean something. At this point, from Dean’s end it is up to the viewer why he reacts in certain ways. Though according to me, he does not love Castiel, but may have imagined Castiel in certain sexual situations. Dean does this with just about everyone.

DESTIEL RATING AFTER EPISODE (based on how believable): 4.5/10

[dangertronic]

Not A Monster Chapter 13

I survived the writing.

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Thirteen:

“So come on Eddie, how did I do?” Jessica asked drying off a plate before holding it out to Eddie.

Eddie looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the hallway and then took the plate from her with a grin. “You did perfectly, Jess. I think she believed it. I think the fact you made lunch helped too. It buttered her up.”

“I am nothing if not fantastic in the kitchen.” Jessica said, turning and leaning her back against the counter. “So that’s one set of parents down, and one to go. Are you sure you can do this twice in one day? We can always tackle mine another day.”

Eddie nodded, closing the cupboard just above his head now that everything was back where it belonged. “I can do this, Jess. The sooner they think – you know – the sooner you’re allowed to actually hang out with Lucille without lying to them about where you are.”

“Technically I didn’t lie.” Jessica pointed out. “I just said I was meeting up with a group of people.”

“One of which was a boyfriend that you don’t have; lie.”

“Ah, Eddie. That’s where you’re wrong.” Jessica said, leaning forward to ruffle his hair. “You’re a boy and you’re my friend, so you’re definitely a boyfriend. You’re just not a dating boyfriend. So, you ready to bail and see Richie now?”

Eddie nodded, pausing on their way out to tell Sonia they were going into the town. Sonia looked up from filing her nails, eyeing the two in the doorway for a moment. Eddie was standing there with his hand linked into Jessica’s, and Jessica was swinging their hands back and forth.

Narrowing her eyes, Sonia securitized them for a moment.

While she was not entirely thrilled about her son dating anyone, Jessica had passed every test that Sonia had thrown at her, and giving her son some kind of leniency would, in her mind, ensure that he was more compliant when it came to other matters.

Certain people in his friend group were one of the matters.

“Alright.” Sonia said, returning to filing her nails. “Make sure you’re home for ten; no later. Not even a minute, you hear me?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll bring him back personally.” Jessica assured her.

“Got it ma’.” Eddie said, starting to pull Jessica from the doorway. “See you at ten!”

“Goodbye Mrs Kaspbrak!” Jessica called over her shoulder as Eddie hastily pulled her out of the front door.

Eddie glanced back over his shoulder, catching Sonia in the window, scrutinizing them yet again. He released Jessica’s hand, opting for slinging it over her shoulder and pulling her into his side as they made their way down the path to the car.

“She still watching?” Jessica asked, fishing out her car keys from her pocket.

“Yeah. She’s gonna be doing it until we’re in the car and gone.” Eddie said, releasing her once they were at the car so she could walk around to the other side.

“Good thing we’ll be gone in a minute and won’t have her breathing down our necks.” Jessica said, unlocking the car.

Eddie was aware that Sonia was still peering out of the window at them as Jessica started the car and pulled away from the house.

Richie and Stan were sitting across each other in a booth at the café when Jessica and Eddie arrived, the former stumbling to his feet quickly in order to throw his arms around Eddie, clutching him tightly to his chest.

“I missed you.” Richie said, voice muffled in Eddie’s hair.

“It’s been half a day since you last saw me, Rich.” Eddie said, curling his arms around Richie’s waist.

“That’s too long.” Richie complained.

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Well, get going then, but remember I need him back by five thirty.”

Richie released Eddie, shooting Jessica a mock two finger salute. “Don’t worry, I’ll have him back in time for your fake dinner date with your parents, Jess.”

Jessica rolled her eyes, sliding into the booth across from Stan for their study session as Eddie shoved Richie playfully. Richie grabbed at Eddie’s wrist, pulling him forward and linking their hands together.

They left the café hand in hand, walking closely so no one passing them could see that their fingers were threaded together, Richie’s thumb brushing against the back of Eddie’s hand.

“So what movie do you wanna see?” Richie asked as they approached the theatre, releasing Eddie’s hand so he could fish out some money.

“Anything. It doesn’t matter.” Eddie said, batting Richie’s hand away as it made a grab for his own again. “Wait until we’re inside.”

“I can’t wait to get out of this town so I don’t have to hide it.” Richie said, turning his attention back to Lucille. “You sure there’s nothing specific you want to see?”

“I just want… want to spend time with you.”

“You got it Eds.” Richie said as they walked into the theatre. “Hey Lucille, my second favourite girl in the world!”

“Hey Rich.” Lucille greeted as Richie approached the ticket counter, perking up at the sight of the familiar faces. “What would you like to see?”

“Anything! Surprise us!”

“You got it.” Lucille said, ringing up a random movie for them.

“So where exactly did you get the money from for this?” Eddie asked once Richie had paid for their tickets, Lucille waving them off with a grin and a quick shout of ‘enjoy your date’ across the empty lobby.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Richie asked, slinging an arm over Eddie’s shoulder as they made their way to the concessions stand. “I asked my darling parents for a loan so that I could take my boyfriend out on a date to the movies.”

Eddie stopped, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he tried to process Richie’s words. “You told them?”

“A-yup.” Richie said, turning to face Eddie. “I told you I was going to as soon as I could figure out how to say it.”

“I know but I didn’t think you’d do it this soon. How did they take it?”

“You kidding me? Mom laughed and was like it’s about time you realised you liked Eddie and took him on a date, idiot. How on earth are you so smart and yet so damn stupid?”

“Richie. What if they say something to my –”

“They won’t.” Richie assured, ruffling his hair. “They know what your mom is like. They’re not about to go: hey Mrs K your son is super gay and dating our lovely Richard!”

Eddie arched tilted his head back to look up at Richie, eyes narrowed a fraction. “Super gay?”

“Too much?”

“Just a bit.”

Once Richie had brought the popcorn and drinks for them, the two of them headed into their designated theatre room. There were a few groups people scattered around the lower floor, and Richie nudged Eddie with his elbow, motioning with his head to the set of steps leading up to the balcony area.

“The last time we sat up here there were seven of us.” Eddie said as they took seats at the front of the balcony.

Unlike the lower area, the balcony was all but deserted aside from a couple sitting at the far end who were more invested in each other than the movie screen, giving Richie and Eddie better privacy to act like a couple.

“Yeah and you knocked your popcorn off the balcony right onto Bowers’ head.” Richie said, not bothering to hold back his laughter at the memory.

“Yeah and then your dumb ass threw his drink over the balcony onto him and made it worse.” Eddie hissed as the lights dimmed around them.

Richie leaned back in his seat, kicking his feet up onto the balcony, setting the popcorn into his lap. “Hey, I would never let you suffer with something like that on your own, just like you wouldn’t with me.”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile, the action illuminated by the screen that neither of them were paying any attention to. “Yeah, you’re right. I wouldn’t let you suffer. When I saw Brad doing what he did… it’s like I went into auto pilot.”

“I’d be the same with you.” Richie said, sliding an arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “Not that you need it. You seem to handle yourself just fine. I distinctively remember you kicking a clown in the face in a moment of pure rage.”

Eddie groaned. “You’re not supposed to keep bringing that up, Rich.”

“Oh come on, it was one of the best things I ever saw you do.” Richie said, tugging on Eddie to pull him closer.

Eddie allowed himself to be pulled into Richie despite how painful the arm rest was when it dug into his side. He just wanted to enjoy this time with Richie. It was rare that they were able to spend any real time together outside of stealing kisses between classes when no one was looking, or quick goodbye pecks when Richie would drop Eddie off at home.

This was a real day they could just be with each other, and no arm rest was going to ruin that.

They paid barely any attention to the movie, Richie spending more time in pressing light kisses to the top of Eddie’s head, running his fingers through his hair, or feeding him popcorn.

At some point during their not-paying-attention-to-the-movie, Eddie tucked his drink between his legs, reaching up to remove Richie’s glasses from his face before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

Richie’s fingers tangled into his hair, preventing Eddie from pulling back as he moved forward, flicking his tongue out to run against Eddie’s lower lip. Completely forgetting that they were sitting in the middle of a movie theatre, Eddie’s opened his mouth, allowing Richie’s tongue to snake its way in.

There was no battle of dominance like Eddie had read about in books, just Richie’s tongue caressing Eddie’s own and exploring every inch of his mouth while his fingers stroked through Eddie’s hair in such a slow an sensual way that it sent a fluttering feeling coursing through his body.

A sudden loud noise tore them apart, their attention snapping to the large screen at the front of the theatre as their surroundings slowly sank in.

“Holy shit.” Eddie breathed. “We just –”

Richie only laughed lowly so as not to disturb the people in the lower area of the theatre who were trying to watch the movie.

“You’re doing that wrong.” Stan said, pointing his pencil at Jessica’s work. “Do you, uh, need some help there?”

Jessica groaned, twisting her pencil around in her hand and erasing the mathematical equation she’d been working on. “No, no. I have to learn how to do this myself. I can’t keep relying on you to bail me out.”

“It’s not bailing you out if I just show you how to do it and then you do the rest on your own.” Stan pointed out, returning to his work.

“Nope, I am determined to learn this on my own.” Jessica said, starting to write out the equation again. “So just how long have you been into Bill?”

Stan paused in the middle of writing, slowly looking up at Jessica. “What are you talking about, Jess?”

Jessica looked up at him with a grin. “Come on Stan, I come equipped with a built in gaydar.”

“You didn’t even know Ed –”

“That was a fluke.” Jessica said, looking back down at her work. “I was in the middle of panicking about the fact I’d told some boy I barely knew that I was into girls and overlooked that said boy was practically screaming I’m gay.”

“Right.” Stan said, writing something down into his notebook before pausing again. “A while, I think, but I’ve only just really –”

“Caught on to your own feelings?” Jessica asked, looking back up at him with a smile.

“Yeah.”

“Been there.” Jessica said, her attention back on her work as she started to write again. “He stares at you, you know. It’s whenever he thinks that no one is looking, and I’ve seen the look that he gives you.”

“You have?”

Jessica hummed, scribbling something down. “He looks at you the way Richie looks at Eddie. The way Lucille looks at me. The way Ben was looking at Beverly over Christmas. It’s like you’re the only one in the room.”

Stan didn’t respond and Jessica looked up from her work again, taking in the red tint that now covered Stan’s face.

“Yeah.” Jessica said, setting her pencil down. “He’s into you too.”

“How did you even notice that?”

Jessica laughed, tapping her pencil against her notebook. “I pay attention to the world around me, Stan. Maybe you should start doing that instead of bothering me about my work being wrong. You might notice a few things yourself.”

“What else have you caught onto that you’re not sharing?”

Jessica grinned, tucking her hand under her head where she tapped the eraser of her pencil against her cheek. “That, Staniel, is for me to know, and you to find out on your own.”

“Do not let that name become a thing, Jess. Come on!” Stan complained. “It’s bad enough that Richie calls me that.”

“Sorry Stan, but I’m a member of Team Reddie so I must honour Richie.”

“Traitor.”

“Oh honey, how could I betray you when I was never on your side to begin with?”

Stan smirked, quickly noting something down for their math work. “You know, I think I’m actually starting to like you more than I do the others.”

Jessica laughed, leaning back in her seat as she wrote something down into her notebook. “They’ll be so crushed.”

[floralreddie]

The Kids Aren’t Alright: Chapter Two (Zombie Apocalypse!Modern AU)

Note: woop woop here’s chapter two. probably some spelling mistakes so sorry about that lmao

Warnings: swearing, gore

Pairing: Reddie (they’re 18)

Synopsis: Richie is already having a pretty shitty day. First, he get’s a C- on his favourite subject, Science. Second, Bev totally called him out for being a giant douche to Eddie that morning. Three, he was totally being a douche to Eddie, because Eddie was making freaking googly eyes at some Senior dude. What’s the last thing needs?

The Apocalypse, that’s what.

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Chapter Two: Six Stops.

Richie might be fucking sick, and Richie is never sick. He’s downed half a bottle of cheap ass vodka in half an hour and still not puked.

He, Bev, Eddie, and Mike are sitting in the cargo bed of the truck, huddles into the middle with their arms and legs far away from the sides. Bill, who is normal anal as shit about how fats he drives, is whizzing down the suburban street of Derry with Stan and Ben in the front with him.

Around them, it’s fucking anarchy.

People are hurling things into their cars and pulling quickly into the road. Others are fighting off the deranged, hungry-for-human-flesh people that seemed to be, Richie had deduced, coming back from the fucking dead through bites.

Fucking zombies. Figures.

‘What the fuck,’ Eddie quivers out, and Richie throws an arm around his shoulders without a moments pause. Bev, who sits next to him, is huddled between his long legs, and Mike sits in front of Eddie, gaze hard as he stares out at the streets passing by quickly. ‘What the fuck?!’

Richie looks away when he sees a woman trip out of her house and fall. She is quickly followed by a ravenous looking child.

‘The News...’ Bev says, and she’s looking closely at her cracked phone, balanced between her painted finger nails. She taps at the screen, brown drawn together as she huddles closer to Richie. ‘It says it’s happening everywhere. All over the world’.

‘Fuck...’Richie breathes, pushing his glasses up his nose with his index finger. He taps on the glass divider between himself and the three sitting in the truck. Around them, the world wails. ‘Go via all our houses,’ Richie says, as Ben yanks it open and stares at him, face pale and eyes wide. ‘This shit is happening everywhere. We gotta get somewhere safe’.

Ben tells Bill and Bill nods, knuckles white against the steering wheel. Richie feels Eddie shudder as he turns back around. ‘They’re gonna go via all our houses-’

‘Don’t bother going past mine,’ Bev grumbles. ‘I don’t need to know what’s happened to him’.

Ben stares at her through the divider, before hurriedly relaying the message to Bill. Mike turns away from the road and pats Bev’s bent knees, his gaze serious. Even Richie, who is pretty sure he hates his parents, can’t imagine not caring if they were dead or not.

But he also knows that Bev’s dad calls her Bevvie, that he hates her hanging out with the boys, and that his touches linger far too long. 

‘You sure about that, Bev?’ Mike asks, voice low. 

Bev leans back against Richie, her gaze sombre. ‘I’m sure-’ She’s cut off by a sudden jerking and a screech of tires, and Bill’s loud yell from inside the truck. They all swear and grab at each other as the truck hurtles to the side, and Richie holds onto Eddie all the tighter.

Richie sees quickly what caused the sudden stop. Another car had hurtled out of the junction to their left. The man in the front, who Richie recognises at Gretta Keenes father, slams his windscreen and yells at Bill.

Richie also doesn’t miss the three bloody bodies wandering toward them, leaving behind the half-eaten corpse on the pavement.

‘Fucking drive, Bill!’ Bev screeches.

He does, and they all slide down dirty bay of the truck, leaving behind the groaning, hungry corpses. That was what they were, right? Just bodies. Hungry bodies and not people. That’s hat all the films said. 

They drive via Richie’s first, the closest house, and find a half open doorway with what looks to be a foot sticking out onto the porch.

Richie nods, stomach rolling as Eddie stares at the side of his head and Stan turns in his seat, green eyes watchful. ‘That’s all I need to know,’ he murmurs, and then Bill is stepping on the gas and off they go again. Eddie, with a quiet look and a prod to Richie’s shoulder, searches Richie’s gaze before leaning his forehead quietly against Richie’s chest.

Such an action would have once been followed with blushes from both parties, and pointed look from Bev, but in that moment Richie’s pretty sure there’s bigger things to worry about.

Next is Stan’s, and the story is much the same. The Synagogue doors are wide open, leaving a trail of dead bodies to wander out into the open. Stan chokes on a sob when he sees his father amongst the masses, his hand flying to his mouth. Ben reaches for his friend from his place in the seat of the truck, his arm looping around Stan’s shoulders as the latter buries his face in his hands and sits there, still.

Richie has to give fucking kudos to Bill, because he drives on, weaving through bodies and missing cars that are driving away from the mess of Derry. Ben murmurs, as they ask about his family, that they were away for the weekend, gone to New Hampshire for their anniversary. 

‘They didn’t answer their phone when I called earlier, in the arts room,’ he mutters, and no one quite knows what to say to that.

Eddie’s house is the worst, Richie knows. It’s near that creepy as shit Neibolt House, which looks horrible enough given the real life horror movie they were living. It’s only made so entirely worse by the fact that Eddie’s mother stands on the porch of the house, blood on her neck and chest, and flabby legs carrying her slowly down the steps and onto the grass.

Bill pauses in front of the house as Eddie leans over the edge of the truck and stares. This part of ton was quieter, further away from the mess of the centre. Eddie’s neighbours don’t even seem to be home at all. 

Still, Richie doesn’t know what to do. No one does. They all just stare, silent, at the sad and hopeless sight of Mrs Kaspbrak stumbling onto the grass, eyes wide and chubby had reaching forward for the son she no longer recognised. 

Now, Richie was never a fan of Eddie’s mother. She was overprotective and unhinged as shit, and hated the fact that her son was gay. Richie remembers Eddie crawling through his window whilst his parents were downstairs, probably drunk, and crying into Richie’s chest for hours into the night after Mrs Kaspbrak rejected her son. Not only that, but she was the fucking reason Eddie suffered from panic attacks and hated anything fucking dirty or wrong.

But, in that moment, Richie pushes that aside when he hears the tell-tale sign of Eddie’s breath catching in his throat. The small, dark haired boy lurches back, hand flying blindly to grab at the sleeve of Richie’s denim jacket as he heaves in deep breaths. 

Richie stares at him, mouth agape and words caught in his throat.

‘Drive, Bill!’ Mike yells.

He does, and Richie grapples for Eddie, cupping his jaw and turning him roughly away from the scene as they leave it. Mrs Kaspbrak stumbles on a broken ankle, mouth agape and eyes a glassy white. ‘I know, Ed’s,’ Richie says loudly over the sound of sirens and the trucks engine, as Eddie’s brown eyes fill with tears and he stares, panicked, and breathes harshly through his nose and mouth. ‘I’m sorry, Ed’s. I really fuckin’ am’.

And he is. Eddie’s upset. Richie hates that.

They drive, and Richie drags Eddie closer to him, his arm tight around Eddie’s form. He knows that Eddie is trying really fucking hard to keep the sobs at bay, but he feels his body jolt and convulse every few moments. Bev, who sits in front of him, has her legs drawn to her chest, her red hair the only thing visible as she buries her head between her knees.

Mike had pushed himself next to Richie, head stuck through the divide in the glass as he gazed out of the front window, murmuring low words to Ben.

Bill’s road, the nicest out of the seven of them, is quiet. There is one car driving quickly down the road, the boot nearly springing open because it is so filled with whatever the family had grabbed from their house. Richie watches them as they pass, noting the hard stares of the mother driving as she nods to the teenagers.

All of the houses seem quiet; all the curtains drawn. Richie wonders if its because most of the parents were at work and the kids at school. He wonders if some people even know what was happening further into town.

Bill’s pulls up quietly outside of his house.The door is closed. The windows shut despite the summer warmth. His dads car isn’t there. They all lean to look at it, and Eddie sniffles in Richie’s arm and looks cautiously over his shoulder. Slowly, Bev lifts her head from her knees and stares with bloodshot eyes.

‘Didn’t you say Georgie was off sick with your mom today?’ Stan croaks, voice raspy and tired. Richie pushes up his glasses, his fingers digging into Eddie’s arm.

Bill clears his throat. ‘Stomach bug’.

Richie thinks that might be a good thing. Maybe it wasn’t whatever the fuck was turning people into flesh eating zombies. Maybe it was a typical, average. everyday sickness. 

Maybe.

It is then that the door bangs open, and Bev flings herself back into the back wall of the truck, her gasping scream slicing through the once quiet of the street. ‘Jesus fuck!’ she yells, just as Stan yells and Bill...Bill is unbuckling his seat-belt with hurried, loud fingers and he is yelling, because Georgie is there, screaming, as Sharon Denbrough attempts to drag her son back into her house.

And her eyes...her eyes are a soul-less white.

Richie’s acting before he’s had time to process what the fuck is even happening. 

He unlatches himself from Eddie, ignoring the hands that scramble at his jacket as he flings himself over the side of the truck and lands clumsily on his feet. A sharp pain slices through his bones, but he ignores it, only pausing to kick the door shut that Bill was hastily trying to open.

‘Need you to drive off quickly!’ Richie shouts, as Bill stares hopelessly at him through the window with terrified blue eyes.

‘Richie, no!’

‘Richie!’

And Eddie...Eddie’s shout is the loudest of them all. ‘You fucking idiot!’

Hm...nice to know his friends appreciate the shit he does for them. He runs across the neatly cut lawn, brown eyes latched only onto the screaming, crying, and snotty Georgie Denbrough. He’d known the kid for most of his eleven years, and fuck no was he going to let Bill’s little bro die.

He does the first thing that comes to mind the moment he meets the struggling pair in the doorway to the Denbrough house. He reaches for Georgie’s free arm, lurches his arm back, and punches Bill’s zombie mom straight in the face.

It fucking hurts, but it does the trick. Sharon stumbles back, a long and drawn out moan coming from her drooling mouth. Her eyes, white and dead, fly to Richie’s face as her pale fingers unlatch from her youngest sons arm. Her face, already sagging and grey, contorts as she finds her new target.

‘Go to Bill, dude!’ Richie grunts, tugging Georgie back and practically throwing the kid in the direction of the truck. He turns only briefly to push the crying child, who stares for only a second at Richie, and then to his mother. ‘Go, I’m fine-!’ But then, as he sees Bev lean over the side of the truck and shout for Georgie, arms spread, he feels cold hands wrap around his hand and tug.

Richie’s about 80% sure what happens next, but he knows that Georgie goes running to the still turned on truck, his sobs echoing as Bev pulls him up, her scared yells only for Richie.

He whirls around to stare at Sharon Denbrough, a woman who was admittedly sometimes absent, but always welcomed Richie into her home. He almost feels bad about punching her. 

In that moment, with her clawed hands latching onto him and her contorted mouth rasping out harsh breaths as her jaw snaps, almost like a hungry animals, Richie understands how fully these fucking monsters had no remnants of the people they used to be in them.

He thinks he hears the soft thud of someone hitting the pavement behind him, as he attempts to kick at Mrs Denbrough’s legs and punch away her freakisly strong fingers that grasp at him. He’s not sure though.

What he does hear is Eddie’s vehement proclamation of, ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Denbrough, but get the fuck off of him’, following by the smaller boys bod hurling forward and fucking rugby tackling the groaning undead woman into the door frame.

‘Richie, let’s go!’ And Richie’s in fucking awe (and only a tiny bit turned on) as Eddie grabs onto his hand and yanks him forward, hair a mess and cheeks flushed, and before Richie knows it they’re piling into the back of the truck, and Georgie is sitting on Ben’s lap, and they’re driving away from the mess, the horror, that was Derry.

It’s quiet for only a moment (aside from Georgie’s quiet sobs), as Richie sits with Eddie staring at him, and Bev curled against Mike, and Richie’s chest is heaving and his glasses askew, before Bill is saying, ‘Thank you, Rich,’ in a soft voice.

Richie can only throw him the thumbs up in the rear-view mirror, still breathless.

‘To you now, Mike?’ Ben asks from the front, as they turn sharply around the corner and pass a car, still smoking, having crashed into a nearby tree. Something was trying to claw its way out of the mess, all burnt and grey skin.

‘Don’t look, Georgie,’ Bill says sharply. Richie unconsciously grabs for Eddie, still staring forward as they drive, now past the fields just outside the town. 

‘We got guns at the farm,’ Mike nods, strong arm holding Bev in place. Richie had never seen her like this, so fucking scared and quiet. ‘It’s far enough away that it should be safe...I hope’.

They lull into a quiet after that. Sirens sounds in the distance, and screams echo through the streets that they leave behind. Richie turns only when Eddie reaches a shaking hand forward to set his glasses straight on his long nose. Richie turns to him, squinting against the sun.

Eddie looks up at him, shoulders hunched as they lean against the wall of the truck, and his eyes are narrowed in an annoyed way that Richie is familiar with. ‘Don’t ever,’ Eddie murmurs lowly, knees drawn to his chest as Richie spiders a hand across his back and tugs Eddie closer to him. It wasn’t an odd occurrence, for them to be so touchy. ‘Do that to me again’.

Richie forces a smile onto his face, because that’s the only thing he can do to make himself feel better. ‘But, Ed’s,’ Richie counters lowly, as Eddie’s dark eyes narrow even further. ‘I like seeing you get a little fiery’.