#(yes he's a dipshit. this is a feature not a bug.)

[egophiliac]

so on the subject of the "Crowley is secretly Revaan/Laverne/Levin/please Twst give us his name" theory, I think my feelings are best summed up as "I don't really buy it, but it's funny". like, in all seriousness, I'm not opposed to it; I have enjoyed the writing in Twst so far and I'm willing to trust that whatever happens will, you know, make sense and not be terrible. but I'm just not really convinced by the current evidence! maybe that'll change once we learn more, we'll see!

with that said, may I propose a few alternate theories about the possible Crowley/Revaan connection:

[washout-stars]

New Prescription

Bnha Songfic (x male reader)

TW: Homophobic slur, attempt suicide, cursing, and depression, basicly a whole lotta dark themes.

The song is Boys Will Be Bugs, by cavetown.

---------------------------

I’m a dumb teen boy, I eat sticks and rocks and mud

 I sat on the cold wet ground. Rain pouring down on my shivering body. My breath is visible and the tips of my fingers icy. But I still stayed sitting outside as I talked absentmindedly to the snails and worms.

 Then I heard a shivering voice yell out aggressively.

“Hey dumbass! What the fuck are you doing out here in this weather!” I flinched and turned my head quickly in the direction the voice came from. My [e/c] eyes landing on a familiar face.

I don’t care about the government and I really need a hug

 Scoffing I rolled my eyes and turned my attention back to the bugs. My wet hair stuck to my face as did my clothes, it was uncomfortable. The bandages on my face soaking, the stickiness almost gone. I bore it though, liking the rain, and liking talking to my only friends more.

I feel stupid, stupid, ugly, ugly, pretend it doesn’t bother me

 I heard a curse come from the guy and footsteps entered my hearing. And soon they stopped as he reached my form. He grabbed my arm and yanked me up. I yelled out In protest.

I’m not very strong but I’ll fuck you up if you’re mean to bugs

“Get up fucker, you’re going to get sick!” He yelled as he tried to pull me back inside the dorm building. His hand was warm causing me to have an urge to hold it in my freezing ones.

It’s getting cold down here underneath the weather, I’d skip class to sit with you, I really like your spotty sweater, if ladybugs are girls how do you make kids together, what’s it like in a female world I bet it’s just so much better

I continued to struggle against his grip. Twisting and turning my body in every direction I could. He wasn’t giving up though, him practically dragging me to the dorms doors.

I just turned fourteen and I think this year I’m going to be mean, don’t mess with me I’m a big boy now and I’m very scary

“Stop! Don’t mess with me! I’m very scary!” I shouted and tried to pull my arm out of his firm grasp. I used my other arm to punch him in the face.

I punch my walls, stay out at night, and I do karate

 He groaned out in pain, falling to the floor with a ‘splash’. In the process letting go of my arm. He looked up at me with a fierce glare, his teeth baring.

“WHAT THE FUCK! I’m try to fucking help you! You’re going to get sick! Stop being so fucking  annoying!” He yelled at me as he stood up. Angrily closing the small gap we had between us from where he fell. 

Don’t message me cause I won’t reply, wanna make you cry

“I don’t need your help! Fuck off Bakugou!” I tried to shove him back but he grabbed my small wrist in his hand, stopping me. I gasped in shock as a sensation went down my spine when he touched me.

“Yes you do need my help! Stop fucking pushing me away dipshit! You’re hurt and you feel like the world is against you, but stop shutting me out!” He shouted as he placed his other hand on my cold, red, cheek. I instinctively leaned into his touch, missing the warmth he gave off.

Ain’t that how it’s supposed to be, though it isn’t me, boys will be bugs right?

Realizing my actions I shoved him away from me as hard as I could. My body stiff and shaking, but previous training had kept my body strong and in shape. He stumbled back a bit letting out a shocked gasp. Hurt flashed over his features, but it was quickly replaced with a mean scowl.

Boys will be bugs right?

“Fine [Y/n] I’ll leave you the fuck alone! I’m fucking done trying to help you!” He yelled and stormed off into the dorm, letting the doors slam shut.

I fell down to my knees, sobs escaping my mouth. ‘Fuck I really am so fucking pathetic.’ I held onto myself as I cried, rain pouring down on me. My body shaking, hands freezing, and my breath visible. I was sure to get sick, but I didn’t care.

I’m a dumb teen boy all I wanna do is quit, my mom told me that she’s worried, and I couldn’t give a shit

After my phone call with my mom I sat staring at my pill bottle. The conversation went awful, my mother not supportive of me being gay. She told me to kill myself, that no one would miss me, that I’m worth nothing. That I’m a disgusting fag.

Maybe I should kill myself, maybe she’s right. 

No not maybe, she is right.

I have friends who understand me, their names are spider, beetle, bee, they don’t say much but they have always listened to me

Knocks were heard on the other side of my door, causing me to flinch. I slowly stood to open my door, worried to see who was on the other side. Once the door was opened there stood Tamaki, he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

His head looked up from the ground when I fully opened the door, he gave me a shaky smile. I sighed and forced a smile back. I stepped back slightly to let him in, which he took notice of and quickly shuffled inside. He sat wearily on my bed, wringing his hands around, something he does when anxious.

“I uh- I wanted to see how you were, I haven’t seen you around lately,” he whispered out shakily, the tips of his ears a light pink.

The other boys at school think it’s cool to hate your parents, but they’re lying all the time, the bugs advise that I should let them

Maybe before I would have thought that he was cute, that it was nice he was checking up on me. Now though, it’s just annoying, he doesn’t care. No one cares, no one understands. I should just kill myself like my dumbass mother said.

“I’m fine,” I snapped at him as he flinched. I felt bad but I pushed that down. I’m not going to get hurt again trying to play friends with someone who doesn’t care.

“O-oh,” he stood shakily, his head hung low, “I’m sorry.” He spoke low, scared, and hurt. His voice shaking as he walked over to the door. He looked at me once more, a pleading look in his eyes.

If you wanna cry make sure that they never see it

I turned my head, avoiding his sorrow gaze. I knew if I made him feel awkward enough, hurt enough he’d leave. He would never want to feel like a bother to someone else. I heard the door close and my eyes started to water.

Even better yet block it out and never feel it

I angrily whipped at my eyes and picked up the discarded pill bottle. I opened it and dumped three onto my hand. I tilted my head back and shoved the pills into my mouth, swallowing them dry. I let tears roll down my pale, tired face.

I just turned fourteen and I think I know everything

I laid down on my messy bed and curled into a ball. Silent tears coming out like a sink faucet turned on. Everything hurts, but the pills will help me feel better.

Help me feel nothing, but emptiness.

Don’t mess with me I’m a big boy now and I’m very scary, I punch my walls, stay out at night, and I do karate

 I walked through the school halls, ignoring the judgmental looks I received. Snapping at anyone who had something to say to me. Avoiding the ones who act like they cared for me, when I know they don’t.

“[Y/n]! Hey are you okay dude? You don’t look too good,” a ‘concern’ voice spoke out. I whipped my head in the direction it came from, seeing Kirishima.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, “I’m fine, leave me alone.” I continued to walk ignoring the hurt look that stayed on his face.

Don’t message me cause I won’t reply, wanna make you cry, ain’t that how it’s supposed to be, though it isn’t me

I picked up my pace as I saw Bakugou walking up to me. I heard him scoff and he rushed forward to grab onto my wrist. I groaned in frustration and tried to shove him off.

“[Y/n], fucking stop! This shit isn’t fucking like you-!” He yelled down at my slightly shorter self.

I frowned and angrily cut him off, ”You don’t know that! You don’t know how I am! You out of everyone fucking else don’t get to know that!”

Boys will be bugs right?

He looked guilty for a second but quickly recovered. An angry, hurt, annoyed, and a little concerned looked rested on his face. I frowned a bit more at that, feeling confused with myself.

“I fucking told you already dipshit, it wasn’t what it looked like,” he squeezed onto my wrist a bit more and looked down, “I’m not that fucking messed up person everyone fucking paints me out to be.”

Boys will be bugs right? Just turned fourteen and I think this year I’m going to be mean

“Whatever Bakugou, it’s not like you even liked me back in the first place,” I whispered out, my tone harsh.

He quickly looked at me, his face twisted in confusion.

“What? That’s not true! Who fucking told you that, was it some dumbass fucking extra!?” He yelled angrily as he placed a hand onto my cheek. His face twisted in anger, but his gaze soft as they looked at me.

Just turned fourteen and I think I know everything, just turned fourteen and I think this year I’m gonna be mean, just turned fourteen and I think the world revolves around me 

“No dumbass, no one needs to tell me anything I could fucking tell,” I spoke quickly my voice sharp. I leaned away from his touch, even though my heart was screaming at me to get closer. In contrast to my heart my brain was yelling at me, reminding me of the truth. All the yelling was causing my head to pound and my eyes to sting.

He’s lying!

Don’t believe him!

He already fooled you once, don’t let him do it again!

No one would want you!

Don’t mess with me I’m big boy now and I’m very scary

His expression turned softer as he moved to place his hand onto my cheek again. His grip tight on my wrist, as if I would slip away again. Which I probably would have if given the chance, at least that’s what I’d like to think.

But when his crimson eyes met my [e/c] ones, I felt frozen in place. A forced away emotion building up inside of me once again. It scared me, but it also sent a thrill throughout my drugged system.

I punch my walls, stay out at night, and I do Karate, don’t message me cause I won’t reply, wanna make you cry

I glared at him, but didn’t move away from his touch. I knew I shouldn’t feel like this, but it. No he was intoxicating , and I craved for him. More than I craved for the pills that numbed me every time I took them.

My glare was cold and full of annoyance, but he ignored it. He smirked down at me as he spoke.

“I see you’re still the same, even when mad you still wanted me to show you affection, it’s so fucking cute.”

Ain’t that how it’s supposed to be though it isn’t me, boys will be bugs right?

And then that wall I worked so hard to put up around my heart broke. And it felt scary, but it also felt like I was free. I let tears roll down my face as I put my hands on his cheeks.

“And you’re still the same over fucking confident guy, who thinks he’s better than everyone, when he’s not, cause you have your flaws too Katsuki,” a smile tugged at the corners of my lip. Tears entering my mouth, letting me taste the saltiness of them. 

Don’t mess with me I’m a big boy now and I’m very scary, I punch my walls stay out at night and I do karate

His smirk grew wider as he wrapped his free arm tightly around my waist. Pulling me closer to his fit body.

“I really fucking missed you loser.” 

Don’t message me cause I won’t reply wanna make you cry, ain’t that how it’s supposed to be, though it isn’t me, boys will be bugs right?

I moved my arms to clasp together behind his neck. He leaned down slightly to put his forehead against mine.

“I bet you did,” I smiled at him slightly. He rolled his eyes but he had a smile rested softly on his features. I chuckled slightly at this which caused him to groan.

“Why the fuck are you laughing!” He yelled out playfully, but also slightly annoyed. Causing me to laugh more, missing this, missing him.

“Nothing Katsuki, everything is perfect,” I smiled up at him.

He grinned, our eyes locking. He held a look in his eyes, one I would describe as fondness. We stood close, our hands wrapped around each other. And a fond, loving, look in our eyes.

He leaned down slowly, cautiously. I smiled a bit more and leaned up to meet his lips. Our eyes closing, and lips softly pressing together. Everything felt right, everything felt euphoric.

.

.

And then I woke up, tears streaming down my face. I reached over and grabbed my pill bottle, aggressively opening it. Dumping out as many as I could onto my shaking hand. I looked over at the letter I wrote, which was resting on top of my desk, a frown rested on my sunken face.

I shook my head from any thoughts and tilted my head back. I shoved the pills in my mouth and swallowed hard, the pills going down dry. It hurt, but I knew it wouldn’t hurt for long. I cried as I laid back down on my bed, head pounding and heart racing.

It would all be over soon, I would be free from heartache. I would be gone and I wouldn’t be a hassle to anyone.

Boys will be bugs right?

I don’t know how long I laid, but my vision started to blur, and I felt nauseous. I let my heavy eyes close, my brain shutting down, and I felt cold. I felt light, and then I was gone.

.

.

.

Beep

Beep

Beep

Soft beeping entered my hearing, my breathing slow. I felt a weight on my arm, as well as wetness. I moved my eyes around from behind my closed eyes, darkness being the only thing I saw. Confusion flooded my system, my heart rate picking up, causing the soft beeping to pick up. I heard a gasp as soft hands grabbed onto mine, squeezing them tight.

“Please, wake up [Y/n],” their voice was raspy, as if they had been crying. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t quite match it to a face.

Memories of what I had tried to do flashed through my head, a soft gasp passing my lips. I snapped my eyes open, quickly sitting up. I was in a hospital, on a hospital bed, wires attached to me. I looked over to the person who held tightly onto my hand. A soft, relieved smile rested on his lips. His eyes watery as he leapt forward, pulling me into a tight hug.

“Fuck man, I thought I lost you, I thought I didn’t get you here on time!” he cried out, tears falling onto my thin hospital gown. I shakily wrapped my arms around his lean frame, and shoved my face into his choppy black hair. Breathing in his scent of faint weed, and his favorite candle scent mint.

“What happened? Why are you here?” I mumbled out into his soft hair. I have always been close to Sero, but I was never really able to hang out with him while I was ‘with’ Bakugou. Bakugou would get jealous, even though he wouldn't admit it, whenever I was with Sero. It’s funny cause I did end up developing a crush on him, but why would he like me back.

“I uh- I went to check up on you cause I missed my more relaxed homie, and I was worried cause I heard that you’ve been depressed lately,” he spoke lowly as he pulled me closer, “When I knocked on the door it was already slightly opened so I peeked inside.”

He breathed in shaikly,” that's when I saw you, and the letter, along with the pills.” He let tears flow down his face again as he recalled the scene, “I knew what you were doing, so without any thought I picked you up and used my quirk to get us here quickly.”

It was silent, the only sound was the machine attached to my wrist beeping softly. Regret flew through my system, ‘I thought I closed and locked the door before I went to sleep, I guess not.’ I sighed and pushed him away slightly, softly. I placed my cold hands on his tear stained cheeks, pressing our foreheads together.

“I-I’m sorry,” I croaked out, tears falling down my face. It was weird seeing Sero so emotional, he was never really one to act like this. Maybe that's why I felt a bit more guilty. He closed his eyes as he wrapped his arms tightly around my waist.

“Please, just don’t do that again, I know you feel betrayed by Bakugou, and you're hurting, but I want to help, I want to show you what love feels like, and I would never try to hurt you,” He whispered, pulling me closer. My eyes widened and a soft blush covered my cheeks, and ears.

“We don’t have to date right now, but when you feel a bit better, maybe we can go out together,” he continued, a little scared but determined. He opened his eyes and met my gaze, flashing his signature grin.

“Okay, I would like that, but I swear to go if you hurt me I’ll hurt you,” I huffed but a small smile rested on my face.

He laughed out, “Of course dude, I give you my full consent, but it will never get to that point!”

And I felt a little happy, Sero and I exchanging soft looks and smiles in a hospital room, wires plugged into me. My ‘ex's’ best friend who was lean and silly, holding each other close, how ironic. Maybe, this is the new prescription I needed, one that would help heal my system of heartache. Yeah, I could get used to this, him and his lame jokes, his faint smell of weed, and his dorky smile.

[master-sass-blast]

Wade. No. Stop.

Sometimes, I write fluff. Sometimes, I write angst.

Sometimes, I write crack

Welcome to the drug trip.

Summary: Wade finds out that Piotr grew up on a farm and teases the two of you relentlessly about enjoying cow play. He crosses an unforgivable line, and you decide to get revenge.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, and Ellie Phimister x Yukio.

Rating: M for utter sexual inappropriateness, vague descriptions of vomiting, and strong language.

Many thanks to the CACAT discord for helping me come up with some of Wade’s various pranks.

Being best friends with Wade Wilson comes with a number of advantages.

First, if you ever need someone to help you hide a body at 3:48 in the morning during a tornado watch, he’s your guy. He’ll even take you out for pancakes afterward.

Second, his extensive knowledge of the Internet and all things Golden Girls makes him a surprisingly valuable ally on trivia night.

Third, he always has a vast supply of junk food on hand, hidden in little stores around his room --in airtight containers to keep bugs out, thank you Nathan. Snack nights with Wade are the best.

Fourth, he’s genuinely everything you’d ever want in a big brother. Severely inappropriate sense of humor with a gun collection he’s happy to let you borrow from and the best taste in spike heels? Uh, yes please!

You know, not to mention the fact that he loves on you at any given opportunity like the touch-starved octopus he is, will happily waste a day watching YouTube or movies with you if you’re feeling down, and always checks before each shark week to make sure you’re stocked on everything you might need --even though he knows that you and Piotr manage that just fine, he says you deserve to have someone checking in on you.

Which is wonderful. He’s wonderful. In his own weird, mildly stabby sort of way.

However, there are times where being friends with Wade comes with... challenges. Let’s call them challenges.

First challenge: Wade is a purely destructive force of nature when he gets bored.

And not in the ‘I-tried-to-do-wood-shop-things-and-broke-a-few-power-tools’ kind of way.

He’s most liable to go to Blind Al’s and get high on cocaine. Which was unnerving the first couple times he did it, admittedly. Wade gets extremely wound up when he’s on coke, and while his dust bunny catching skills are impressive, the French maid’s outfit he prances around is not.

That particular incident had been a distinct feature in your nightmares for several weeks. You’re still not sure you’re over it.

Fortunately, though, now that he and Nathan are together, most of Wade’s coke episodes are handled by the time-traveling cyborg. He simply scoops Wade up with some telekinesis, takes him to their shared room, and stays in there with him until Wade comes down from his high.

Unfortunately, however, Wade’s boredom fits don’t always involve coke --and, when they don’t, Nathan’s ability to circumvent Wade’s destructive tendencies runs out pretty quickly.

When Wade isn’t coking himself out, he’s shooting things. Or blowing things up. Or lighting them on fire. Or... doing unspeakable things to them.

And, since none of the telepaths in the mansion can read Wade to figure out what he’s doing ahead of time, there’s no stopping him beforehand. It’s always follow the sounds of destruction and clean it up afterward.

Which is what the ‘flaming pool incident,’ the ‘juggling chainsaws incident,’ and the ‘whipped cream in the fire suppression sprinkler system’ are all categorized as. As are the ‘carpet of actual kittens, Wade how did you even get this many kittens, oh god Remy’s allergic to cat hair someone get his Epi-Pen,’ the ‘mac and cheese overflowing from all the toilets,’ the ‘how did Poptarts get glued to the ceiling?’, the ‘wait, you aren’t actually barbecuing a person, oh shit you are, WADE NO, I don’t care if it was for a job and you only need a picture and you weren’t actually going to eat it,’ and the ‘en masse tp-ing’ incidents. Not to mention--

Perhaps the list ought to be left for another time. You know Scott has a file cabinet or two devoted to Wade’s exploits, and there’s no way you’re going to make it through all of them right now.

(Though, in Wade’s defense, if he had known Remy had allergies to cat hair, he wouldn’t have brought cats into the mansion.)

Second challenge: Wade will argue with anything.

True story. It doesn’t even have to be breathing. You’ve watched him carry on a two hour argument with a plastic ficus at Sister Margaret’s. And he lost.

Admittedly, this comes in handy when the game of the night at the X-Mansion is ‘debater’s table.’ You and Wade have an unbroken winning streak.

Unfortunately, that winning streak is only a total of one because everyone decided --aside from you and Wade--that ‘debater’s table’ would be banned henceforth. Possibly maybe definitely because you tried to supplex Scott through the table when he called one of your points ‘uninspired.’

In your defense, Wade tried to help.

In both of your defenses, they really should’ve known better than to put two of the most combative people in the house on the same team --let alone play such a competitive game with them.

Extra unfortunately, Wade’s argumentative streak is the literal biggest pain in anyone’s ass at any other given time.

Especially when rules are involved.

“Wade!”

“Hang on! Hang on!” you shout as you hear your boyfriend tromp through the mansion in defense mode. You grab your bag of insta-popcorn from the microwave and run in the direction of Piotr’s angry stomping, swearing as you toss the searing bag from hand to hand. You sprint towards the clinic room Wade is being patched back together in and dive into your chair, perched between Ellie and Neena.

Neena opens the bag without burning herself, somehow. “Thanks. These are a pain in the ass to sit through without a snack.”

Ellie reaches across you and grabs a handful for her and Yukio to share. “Try to get the Parmesan cheese kind next time. The generic flavor is boring.”

“I tried, but I think we’re out. We’ll have to restock.” When you realize Piotr is watching you four with a mildly exasperated expression, you wave your hand at him. “You can start now. We’re ready.”

He shakes his head, then refocuses on Wade --who’s still regrowing a leg and several bullet holes. “Wade. How many times do I have to say--”

“You can say my name as much as you want, you big silver stud,” Wade interjects before your boyfriend even had a chance to work up a head of steam. “I never get tired of hearing it.”

“Down, boy,” Nathan mutters in his seat next to Wade’s hospital bed.

“What is first rule?” Piotr asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“Label everything in the refrigerator.”

You wince internally as you watch Piotr restrain himself from yanking Wade out of the bed and slamming him against the nearest wall. “Why does he keep opening with that?” you whisper to Ellie. “It never works.”

“Because he’s hoping it will someday,” Ellie whispers back. “Pass the popcorn.”

“You know that is not first rule,” Piotr growls --and damn if that doesn’t do something for you--accent thickening with his anger. “As much as you play idiot, you are not one.”

“Oh, honeypie, I’m touched! But not in the way I’d like to be, if you know what I me--”

You cough pointedly, and Wade relents with an apologetic gesture of his hands.

“Point stands, Tin Man on steroids, I genuinely don’t know what I’ve done wrong or what I’ve done to deserve this raging Russian display of restrained passion --not that I’m complaining, mind you--”

“Rule One: No killing. Ever.” Piotr’s jaw flexes, and there’s a slight metal scraping noise as he grits his teeth. “How is that so hard to understand?”

“Uh, because some people deserve to die. Specifically, the actual child traffickers we were fighting today. Because they’re actual. Child. Traffickers.”

“You do not have right to take lives!”

“Uh, like hell I do! Did you miss the part where they were child traffickers?”

“Who’s winning?” Yukio asks quietly as she scoops more popcorn into her mouth.

“Unfortunately, I think Wade is,” Ellie murmurs.

“You can’t honestly look at me and say the world is worse off for me having killed those guys. Honestly.”

Piotr’s hands clench into fists. He’s on the losing side of the argument, and he knows it. “Your actions reflect on all of mutant kind.”

“Not a mutant, my comrade. I’m a reject science experiment. Come on, the first movie literally covered this in extreme, nude detail!”

“Your actions still reflect on X-Men. We can’t afford to have easily misconstrued actions on our hands.”

Wade shrugs. “Hey, you asked me to come with. You know how I handle people like that, and you asked me anyway. Frankly, I’m not sure I like that you’re willing to let fuckers like that live for the sake of your image.”

Piotr’s jaw tenses.

“Holy shit,” Neena breathes. “He’s winning. He’s literally regrowing a limb. How is this even possible?”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you mutter. “Wade fucking Wilson.”

“Need I remind you that staying at X-Mansion is privilege,” Piotr says, tone icy. “Those who cannot follow rules cannot stay.”

“Fine. I know where the door is. Say the word and I’m gone. I’m still gonna deal with the irredeemable assholes of the world the way I always do whether I’m here or not: scrub them out, one at a time, until there aren’t any left and I can finally retire for the rest of eternity.”

You’re starting to see just exactly why Nathan fell for Wade.

Piotr glares at the mouthy merc for a moment before turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

Wade flops back against his bed with a wince and sighs. “I take it that one goes to me?”

“Amazingly, yes,” Ellie says as she stands, hand already wrapped around Yukio’s. “Stop killing people, dipshit.”

“No can do, Negasonic Beetlejuice. Bye, Yukio!”

“Bye, Wade!”

You toss the empty popcorn bag into the trash and brush your hands off on your pants. “I’m gonna go find Piotr before he implodes on himself.”

You could technically add in Wade’s less than lucid days and grumpy pain-slash-feeling suicidal days in as challenges, but you don’t think there’s anyone in the mansion that would have the heart to assign that to the him as a consequence of his own behavior and choices.

Which, by default, only leaves one other challenge: Wade’s perverted sense of humor.

Wade’s sense of humor is like a fire hydrant: all or nothing. Unstoppable once it’s started. Overwhelming in every sense of the word.

Unlike a fire hydrant, it’s also largely sexual.

Which happens into some less than stellar moments where Wade hits on anything in sight --including your boyfriend--not so much because he wants to fuck whatever he’s laid eyes on, but because he loves the reactions his increasingly horrifying innuendos get.

And, admittedly, he’s funny ninety-nine percent of the time. He has a mouth that won’t quit and he’s not afraid to use it.

However, he does happen into that one percent of the time where it’s just. Too. Much.

Cue the cow-play incident and your revenge on Wade for all his related wrong doings.

You’re all sitting around the kitchen table when the fateful bit of information comes out.

“Wait, hold the fucking phone for a minute.” Wade stares at Piotr, shocked. “You grew up on a farm?”

Piotr nods. “Da. In Siberia.”

“What did you farm? Ice?”

That gets an eye roll. “Nyet, Wade. Cattle, mostly. It was easiest to maintain.”

“Well I’ll be darned,” Wade says in an offensively hickish Southern accent. “Ol’ Petey-pie’s jus’ a regular cowboy, ain’t he?”

“Stop it,” Ellie says flatly as she scrolls through Tumblr. “You sound stupid.”

“That was the point, Negasonic laser canon, thank you very much.” He refocuses on Piotr with a familiar glint in his eye. “So, is it stereotypical of me to ask if you two do the cowgirl position a lot?”

You flick a Cheeto at him while Piotr sighs heavily. “Stop it. Stop being gross.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I don’t want to know about all your cow-play activities anyway.”

And that’s... not a term you’re familiar with. You dig your phone out of your pocket and type in the term into your search engine.

Across the table, Ellie sucks in a breath. “Y/N, no!”

It’s too late.

It’s all too late.

Your precious brain will never be the same.

You stare down at the Urban Dictionary definition, unable to tear your gaze away as your brain tries to comprehend the horrors of Wade’s implications.

Next to you, Piotr drops his head into his hands. “Wade, no--”

“So you do know what it is! You kinky fuck! Here I thought you wouldn’t want to be milked--”

That mental image makes you scream. You drop to the floor and cover your face with your hands. “Oh God, why? Why! Wade, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey, no kinkshaming! As long as you two are both consenting--”

“Shut! Up!” You roll to your feet and glare at him. “I didn’t need to know about any of that! I was fine just the way I was without learning about that corner of the world!”

“Oh, but you so weren’t!” Wade cackles. “Man, your reaction was priceless--”

You charge after him, hellbent on beating the ever living shit out of him.

You do, but it’s too late.

Wade’s hooked on the joke.

It starts with texts. Usually late at night, when Wade’s still up and normal people are trying to sleep.

The first one comes in the same night at two in the morning. 

It takes a moment for your eyes to focus on the small lettering, but when they do you wish they hadn’t.

Bro: So, how did the milking session go tonight?

Piotr groans when you toss your phone across the room. “What?”

You flop down next to him with a huff. “Don’t even ask.”

From there, it just gets worse. Not only do the texts become at least a daily feature in your life, but Wade starts tormenting you and Piotr in other ways.

Bro: Question. Does Colossus ‘moo’ when he climaxes?

You: Fuck. Off.

You hadn’t thought anything of it other than Wade was hellbent on being an annoying prick, and had shoved your phone into your pocket.

Until later that night, when Wade loudly, dramatically shouts “I can’t find my phone!”

And Piotr, being the kind and gentle soul that he is, says “I can call it.”

You spy Wade’s phone on the kitchen table, in very obvious and plain view, which isn’t anything suspicious because Wade could lose anything, anywhere.

What is suspicious, however, is the devious grin Wade’s wearing.

You almost tell Piotr to hang up, but the call connects before you can say anything.

Wade’s phone vibrates across the table, playing the distinctive sounds of cows mooing in chorus.

You smack your palm against your forehead, while Piotr merely sighs and hangs up. “Just stop it already!”

After that, it’s just unstoppable.

You find cow everything everywhere. Black and white pictures taped inside the covers of books or tucked in your shoes. A bundle of cow fridge magnets addressed to your boyfriend in red crayon --not subtle, Wade, by the way. An email with a couple’s Halloween costume set of a farmer and --you guessed it--a dairy cow.

The subject line of the email reads “Because milking should be an equal opportunity pastime,” which really should’ve been all the hint you needed.

And the texts. Holy fucking tits, the texts.

They’re horrible. Obscene. They use entirely too many emojis in ways that the app creators never intended!

Bro:  philly cheesesteak all in that order, chili cheese fries as a starter got the steroids keeping me stronger bitch im a cow, bitch im a cow, i am not a cat, i dont say meow bitch im a cow, bitch im a cow

Bro:  ca$h rules everything around me ice cream ice cream you a calf bitch, you ma daughter i ain't bothered get slaughtered got the methane, i'm a farter with my farmer mcdonald and they feed me real good, it's a honor

Bro: I took the liberty of doing a little redecorating before leaving town for my job. Hope you like it!

Okay, that last text isn’t necessarily obscene, but it is... concerning.

You meet Piotr right by the main staircase. He looks just as panicked as you do, which means he got the text, too. “How bad do you think it’s gonna be?”

He looks up the flight of stairs, expression fearful. “Probably worse than what I could imagine.”

The two of you climb the stairs in silence, proceeding like prisoners to their slaughter --execution.

Dammit Wade.

There’s a trail of straw in the hallway that leads to your shared bedroom.

“Oh God no,” you whisper. “Please. No.”

Piotr groans. “This will be impossible to clean up.”

“I think there are other priorities to think about here.”

“I can’t. If I do, I might go insane.”

You walk together to the bedroom door, which has a note attached to it.

You’re welcome for fulfilling all your kinky dreams! --Wade

Piotr tears the note off and crumples it. He put his hand on the door knob, then looks at you. “Like bandaid, da?”

You take a deep breath, steel yourself, then nod. “My body is ready.”

He pushes the door open, and--

It’s worse than you could’ve imagined.

The floor is covered with straw, from corner to corner. On the desk is a machine that looks extremely suspect--

Piotr groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “...blyad.”

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Da.”

“Dammit, Wade.” You spy a Hello Kitty sticky note attached to the side and peel it off.

Fun fact! You can buy Dairy Cow milking machines at Walmart! Who knew? --Wade

Perhaps most suspect, however, is the massive cardboard box sitting on your bed.

With a sigh, you walk over and tear it open. “May as well get it over with. How bad could it be?”

So much worse, is the answer. Apparently.

Sitting right on top are a cattle prod and a branding iron.

You close your eyes and try to breathe through the aneurysm you’re suffering from right now. “Life Lesson Number One: It can always get worse, especially when Wade’s involved.”

There’s also a pack of gloves that go all the way up to the shoulder, a coupon for a free septum piercing, and a book.

On.

Artifical. Fucking. Insemination.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, and it takes all your will power not to chuck it out the window. You inhale deeply and look down at the screen.

Bro: You like it?

You: FUCK. YOU.

The final straw, believe it or not, actually comes a few weeks later. Because you draw the line at being made to vomit.

You’re in the kitchen, innocently pouring yourself a glass of milk to go with a few cookies you’d swiped from one of Wade’s snack stashes when the merc himself walks in.

He stops, waits for you to eat one of the cookies and drink half the glass of milk, then cocks his head to the side and says, “You know, I may have not expected you to milk Pete, but I sure as fuck didn’t think you would store it in the fridge and drink it.”

And that sentence --along with the mental image it conjures up-is enough to make you gag. Your eyes water and your stomach churns, and you have to set down your glass of milk to keep from spilling it all over yourself.

Wade’s waiting, grinning deviously, clearly expecting you to give him hell for what he just said.

Except you don’t. You can’t. You can’t get the mental image of... that out of your head, and it’s making you nauseous.

You sprint past Wade and to the nearest bathroom. You throw open the door, flip the toilet lid and seat up with a resounding smack, and brace yourself for the oncoming storm.

Halfway through puking everything in your stomach, Piotr darts in and pulls your hair away from your face. “Myshka, is everything alright? Are you sick? What happened?”

“She can’t talk,” Ellie says somewhere in the background. “She’s puking. And Douchepool’s looking pretty guilty.”

You can almost hear the glare Piotr gives Wade. “Wade. What did you do?”

“I wasn’t trying to make her puke!”

You dry heave once, twice, and then when you’re sure nothing else is coming up anytime soon you glare over your shoulder at the merc and point an accusing finger at him. “This means war. I’m going to fucking murder you.”

Wade, at least, has the decency to look sheepish. “Yeah, I probably deserve it.”

You’re in the middle of plotting what exactly you’re going to do to Wade --high road be damned, Piotr, some things just required a strong response--when you happen upon a calendar and realize what’s coming up in three days.

It’s perfect. Fated by the universe. There was never a better time for revenge than now.

You fish twenty dollars out of your wallet and go in search of Nathan.

The older man’s in his room, sitting at his desk while he glares down various monitors with findings about various corrupt politicians, black markets, and skeezy billionaires.

You knock on the door frame. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.” He swivels in his chair and takes off his reading glasses. “What can I help you with, kid?”

You hold out the twenty dollars to him. “I made a deal with you about six months ago. You helped me escape Wade’s rant on Halloween in exchange for me promising to help you prank Wade. And twenty bucks.”

He accepts the cash with a sly smirk. “You did.”

“I take it I don’t have to bring you up to speed about Wade’s latest bullshit?”

“You don’t.”

“So, here’s what I’m thinking: I help you prank Wade, and I also get my revenge. Sound good?”

He grins. “Mutually beneficial. Good way of thinking.”

“Great. Do you have a driver’s license?”

“I have a fake one.”

“Close enough. We need to get some supplies.”

There are, of course, a few ground rules.

“One, no destroying anything. Two, nothing about Vanessa; I don’t want to give him a mental break down. Three, nothing I can get in trouble with the Professor for.”

Nathan nods. “Sounds reasonable.”

The first stop is Whole Foods, where the two of you get the blandest, healthiest, boring-est stuff you can find. 

Quinoa. So much quinoa. You never want to see this much quinoa again in your life.

The next stop is Home Depot. You clean them out of leaf blowers.

The stop after that is Lowes. You clean them out of leaf blowers, too.

The average person might find it suspect that your plan requires so many leaf blowers. You really don’t care about what average people think.

After the hardware stores, you stop at a craft store and buy as many plain t shirts as you can and enough fabric markers and puff paint to stock a summer camp.

When you drag everything into yours and Piotr’s room --sans leaf blowers, you leave those in the trunk of Nathan’s car for the time being--you boyfriend gives you a puzzled look. “Myshka? What is all this for?”

You grin up at him. “Revenge. Duh.”

He sighs. “Moya lyubov’, I thought we talked about taking high road.”

“I promised Cable I would help him prank Wade for April Fool’s! You wouldn’t want me to go back on my word, would you?”

It’s a bullshit argument, granted, but it’s not one he can technically out talk you on without giving himself a headache. He sighs and gives you his patented “dad look.” “Y/N.”

“Piotr. We’re not destroying anything, we got our own stuff to make sure we weren’t damaging X-Men property, and we’re not doing anything that relates to Vanessa. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He relents with a sigh. “Very well. Since you are being responsible about it, I will not complain.”

You lean up on your toes and kiss his cheek. “Thank you, honey. Can I ask one little favor, though?”

“...Da.”

“Can we use your forty-eight hour or less delivery thing with Amazon? There’s some stuff we couldn’t find at the craft store that we still need to get.”

The night before April Fool’s, you and Nathan put everything into motion while Wade’s out of the house on a job.

You switch out all his snack stashes with the healthy, delicious, bland shit you got from Whole Foods; you commandeer the food, hiding it in yours and Piotr’s room.

“It’s just for a day or two, and then I’ll give most of it back!”

“All of it.”

“Ugh, fine!”

Next, you hide all his shirts and replace with them blank ones you’d gotten from the craft store --after writing “I hate Bea Arthur” on all of them with fabric markers and puff paint.

The cherry on top, though, is the death gauntlet you and Nathan construct in the backyard. You tarp off the sides and the tops, put a spraying rig at the very front filled with aerated spirit gum, and attach the leaf blowers at regular intervals down the length of the gauntlet.

And then you fill the barrels of said blowers with glitter.

“Where’d you even get this idea?” Nathan asks as he eyes the fruits of your mutual labor.

“Wade,” you say as you pull the final piece of the puzzle out of your backpack --Wade’s unicorn, Mr. Fluffykins. “He wanted to do this to Scott.”

Nathan chuckles, sharp and gravely. “Nice.”

You carefully carry Mr. Fluffykins down the gauntlet, careful not to disturb any of the glitter canons on your way. You set him on a pedestal out of range of the canons, give him a pat, then creep back down the gauntlet again. Once you’re free, you exhale and grin at Nathan. “I think we’ve got April Fool’s day pretty well in hand, don’t you?”

He grins back. “I’m inclined to agree.”

The day starts, delightfully enough, with Wade wailing at the top of his lungs.

You snicker as you sit down at the kitchen table while Piotr rummages around in the fridge --having anticipated the absolute hell today would bring, he’s already in defense mode. “Do you think it’s the shirts, the unicorn, or the snacks?”

He shakes his head, but you can just barely see the corner of the amused smile he’s wearing. “No comment.”

Wade storms into the kitchen, looking pissed off. “What the fuck did you do with Mr. Fluffykins? Where is he?”

You smirk. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Perfectly fucking fine, until I realized that my one and only unicorn love was missing. Where. Is. He.”

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

Wade flips you off and storms upstairs. Less than five minutes later, you hear him shriek again. “Quinoa? I hate quinoa!”

You revel in self satisfaction as Nathan’s cackling and Wade’s bitching float down the stairs. Strap in, bro. It’s gonna be a rough fucking day for you.

Wade throws an absolute shit fit when he finds the shirts --“How dare you! How fucking dare you!”--but largely spends the whole day searching the mansion for Mr. Fluffykins.

After a quick confer, you and Nathan decided to not tell Wade about the outdoor gauntlet until he notices it or gives up.

It isn’t until three in the afternoon that Wade finally notices the giant tarped structure outside, which is a record even for his track record of obliviousness.

You and Nathan stand a safe distance away as Wade scampers around the construction, looking for a quick way in and out. “You remembered to hide his knives too, right?”

Nathan gives you a look that says ‘yes, what kind of idiot do you think I am?’

“And you can handle the glue sprayer and the leaf blowers with your telekinesis, right?”

“Relax. It’ll be fine.”

“For us. Not for Wade.”

By the time Wade figures out just what he’s looking at, a small crowd including the X-Force, Logan, Remy, Scott, Jean, and Hank has gathered by the back door.

Wade jabs an accusing finger at you. “You! You did this! You traitor!”

“This is what happens when you take your jokes too far!” You retort. “This is what happens when you joke about things that aren’t meant to be joked about! You dig your grave, and you lie in it!”

Nathan simply holds out a pair of lab goggles and a dust mask. “You might want these.”

Wade gapes at him. “Et tu, Brutus?”

“Take them now or spit up glitter for the next decade. Your choice.”

Wade snatches the goggles and mask before Nathan can take them away. “Just for this, buster,” he grumbles as he puts on the goggles. “You’re sleeping on the couch for the next two weeks.”

Nathan chuckles. “Sure thing, princess. Whatever you say.”

Wade flips him off as he adjusts the mask over his mouth, then walks over to the front of the gauntlet. He inhales deeply, stretches, then mutters “maximum effort” before sprinting down the gauntlet.

There’s a series of screams as Wade flails around inside. They pause when he reaches the safe zone and procures Mr. Fluffykins, then start anew --with added vigor now that his unicorn is being exposed to the glitter death run--when he bolts for the only exit.

A chorus of laughter erupts behind you as Wade emerges, covered head to toe in every conceivable shade of glitter and a sheen of glue.

You smirk triumphantly at him as he tries --and fails--to brush the glitter off him and Mr. Fluffykins, then spin on your heel and strut inside.

Victory to you.

Later that night, when your sitting in a pile of Wade’s snacks, watching YouTube videos and shoving Keebler Fudge Stripes in your mouth, someone knocks on the door.

“Come in!” You smile deviously when Wade shuffles in. “Ah! Have we learned our lesson?”

“I had to take a three hour shower before I stopped rinsing glitter out of my ass! How is this fair?”

“You bought us a milker, a book on artificial insemination, and covered our floor in straw. We’re still finding pieces of straw everywhere.”

Wade grimaces. “Okay, fair enough.”

“Also. You made me vomit!”

“I said fair enough!”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Wade, I’m serious. I love you like a brother, but there are times where you go too fucking far--”

Wade holds up his hands in a calming gesture. “I know. I figured that out when I made you puke. I’m sorry.”

“I just... I really don’t appreciate you joking about my sex life to that extent. I know it makes Piotr uncomfortable on any level, but it really crossed the line after the cow magnets.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be funny, not traumatizing.”

“I know.” You smile fondly --albeit somewhat exasperatedly--at him. “And I forgive you. I really do. But Piotr needs to hear you say that, too.”

“What do I need to hear?” Piotr asks as he walks into the room.

“I’m sorry for taking the cow play stuff too far,” Wade says without prompting. “I took it too far.”

Piotr blinks, clearly shocked by the freely given apology, and then he smiles and pats Wade’s shoulder. “All is forgiven. Just... don’t do it again. Please.”

Wade nods. “Trust me, I won’t. I know when I’ve had my ass handed to me.”

You smirk triumphantly. “You mess with the bull, you get the horns.”

Wade opens his mouth, closes it, then groans. “I can’t comment, can I?”

“Nope. Suffer, bitch.” 

Wade looks like he’s about to physically explode, but manages to contain himself. “Can I at least have my snacks back?”

“Da,” Piotr interjects before you can say anything. “Please. Take them.”

You sputter, outraged. “What? No! Not fair! My tastebuds are in heaven.”

“Myshka, you promised you would give everything back.”

You continue sputtering as Wade starts scooping his goodies back into his boxes, then start squawking when Piotr starts helping. It devolves into a tug of war over a box of Cheez-Its that end with Piotr holding you out of reach of the snacks and with the three of you laughing.

Yeah, being friends with Wade comes with challenges.

But, for as many downs as there are, there are at least as many --if not more--ups.

It’s a friendship you wouldn’t trade for the world.

[richietransmouth]

How Soon Is Now?

Summary:  After that fated sewer fight, two boys have some fated talks. Includes that classic "Richie comes through Eddie's window" trope that makes or breaks a reddie fic obviously.

Word count: 6.9k

warnings: language, AO3

The summer breeze gently blows the black curls away from Richie's eyes as he lazily works his bike pedals, and maybe it would have been comforting if he hadn't crawled out of the depths of hell about an hour ago. Well, if hell was filled with gray, disgusting water and dead, floating children.

Richie supposes he should've gone running home as soon as he stumbled out of the haunting sewers, but instead he found himself idly riding through Derry. He's unsure how he managed to ride throughout the town without crashing or hurting himself with how zoned out he is. Yes, he should've gone home, but it didn't feel right. Going home would make this day real; seeing his parents and his reflection and having dinner and going to bed would make today concrete.

The events of the day keep flashing throughout his mind. Each time the sneak in, he has to shake his head like an Etch-A-Sketch to reset, yet his mind keeps drawing the same images.

Beverly floating just like a balloon. Ben screaming. Her eyes, oh god, her eyes. Her arctic skin freezing his own, like her state was contagious. She was lifeless, and he prays he'll never see her like that again.

Shake.

Stan's face soaked in blood and tears, screaming and screaming. "You're not my friends!" A knife digs through his heart at each strangled repetition, at the heartbroken expression. The pain in his eyes twists the knife in his heart. Torture.

Shake.

The gun against Georgie's-no- It's forehead. The tears spilling down Bill's cheeks. Richie can't remember the last time he'd seen Bill cry. The shot rings out. The cold look of Georgie-no- It. Knowing that the body wasn't Georgie's didn't help when it looked so real, so human. He tries not to think of how Bill felt.

Richie shakes his head so hard that it finally pulls him out of his thoughts. He sighs and slows down his pedaling to a nice easy pace to take in his surroundings. This warm summer day has brought him down to the quarry, far away from his home. Well, not far enough, but it’ll do.

He hops off his bike and walks it over near the cliff the losers jump off, hoping to find another person here to provide some sort of company. Being alone is not what the doctor would prescribe. As he comes closer, he notices a figure sitting at the cliff’s edge and squints. He’s pretty sure he needs a new prescription. The figure becomes clearer with each step, and he makes out the small frame, neat hair, and clunky cast.

He pauses, glancing down at his bike. Should he bother Eddie? The boy hardly got any peace anyway due to his overbearing mother. Why would he try taking that away from him? But, what about what just went down? Wouldn't he want company just as badly as Richie?

He mulls this over for a few second, shrugs, tosses his bike down, and finishes walking over. Eddie looks up at Richie as he stands at the edge of the cliff, staring off into the horizon. He lets out a huff before glaring down at his hands.

“I’m not really in the mood, Richie.” Richie still stands there. “Serious, leave me alone.”

“With a face like that? There’s no way I’m leaving,” Richie says as he moves to sit next Eddie. He says it like a joke, but concern seems to drip in with it. Eddie takes note, a bit perplexed, before brushing it off as his mind playing tricks.

He glances over as Richie settles next to him, hanging his legs over the edge of the cliff and leaning all his weight on his arms. Richie’s eyes slip closed and a small content smile finds its way onto his face. Eddie stares at him for a few seconds as his chest rises and falls, the wind playing with the dark curls that have a mind of their own, and thinks that his friend almost looks beautiful in this moment.

Woah.

No, he doesn’t. He looks like trash, idiot. Stop being stupid.

“Eh, what’s up, Doc?”

Eddie is ripped out of his thoughts with Richie’s terrible impersonation of Bugs Bunny. He rolls his eyes, blushing a little at getting caught staring, and looks down towards the brilliant blue beneath them.

“Shut it. I’m thinking,” Eddie mumbles.

“Yeah, I can practically see the gears working.” Richie nudges him but is simply swatted away. “What are thinking about?” No response. “Alright, I’ll just go fuck myself then.” Eddie shoots him a look.

“Don’t you already do that?”

“Nah, usually your mom helps in that department.” Eddie just looks away again. “Really, what are you thinking about? It’s pretty obviously eating at you.” When Eddie doesn’t answer, Richie just keeps going. He can’t help himself.

“Eating you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, by the looks of it. It’s got a full course meal in its hand. Or plate, I should say. Yep, getting all its nutrients from the ol’ Kaspbrak.” He can see Eddie trying to fight off a smile, which only encourages him. “On the top of that food pyramid thing. Yessiree, Ed boy sure tastes nice. Oi, waiter! I’ll have some of what it’s having. A slab off the Edster himself, yes. Uh, maybe some…” Richie starts giggling to himself, and Eddie looks over quizzically. “Some E-Eddie…” More giggles interrupt the sentence again. “Some Eddie Spaghetti.”

Richie cracks up laughing at his own joke, bringing his hands to his face and kicking his legs, as Eddie groans and gives Richie a light shove, though smiling the whole time. Richie just keeps repeating “Eddie Spaghetti” to himself between laughter, coaxing some laughter out of Eddie, too.

“First of all,” Eddie says, after Richie has only barely calmed down, “you’re so stupid, and that was super dumb. Second, that’s not how the food pyramid works, and you’d know that if point one wasn’t true.” Richie starts mimicking Eddie, which earns a huff, that would’ve fooled Richie into thinking the boy is annoyed except the grin that is plastered on his face. “And third, stop calling me stupid shit. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“You thought it was funny, so I don’t care about anything you just said.”

Eddie flips the taller off as he just laughs. He grabs Eddie’s hand and lowers it, forcing himself to stop laughing. He doesn’t let go. He wonders what someone would think if they saw this, two boys sitting on a cliff holding hands. Eddie raises his eyebrows as Richie gives him a look that is as close to serious as he can probably get. “Do you really want me to leave you? Because you’re not really acting like it.”

“Yes, I am,” Eddie scoffs, retracting his hand from Richie’s grip and removing his gaze from Richie’s. Richie just grabs at Eddie’s face, making him look at him. Eddie swallows, feeling a little uncomfortable from the eye contact and a little giddy from the fingers pressed into his cheeks. “D-did you hear me? Go away.”

“Yeah, I heard you, but it could use more emotion. You have to show me that you mean it. I’m not seeing the motivation.” Eddie just raises an eyebrow at Richie’s attempt to sound like a movie director. The boy in question shrugs and drops his hand. Eddie’s face feels cold now. “Eddie, I’ve known you for a hot second, okay? I can tell you wanna talk, so why don’t you just spill it already? Is it about…y’know?” Eddie hesitates before shaking his head. “Okay, then what is it?”

They sit in silence for a while longer, Richie searching Eddie’s face. Stubbornness covers all the hypochondriac’s features. Richie just sighs and turns back to the lake beneath them, resting his elbows on his knees and consequently his face in his hands. He crosses his legs, closes his eyes, and breathes in deeply. Eddie positions himself the same. Silence comfortably envelopes the two.

Eddie used to think it was strange when Richie didn’t talk and, while that crosses his mind, he finds he doesn’t mind the silence between them. Of course, everyone wants the trashmouth to shut up for one goddamn second, but once he does, they become nervous that something is wrong. And, sure, something is probably wrong with Richie to render him silent, but it never feels wrong to sit there with Richie and silence anymore. The quiet moments speak loudly enough.

Sometimes in the quiet, he feels like he can connect with Richie more, can almost read his mind. He knows that’s absolute garbage, but it just feels special. Sitting there now, on a cliff and in the same position barely five feet apart, he wonders what the other is actually thinking about. He wonders how different their thoughts; their lives could be when sitting like this. The longer he contemplates, the more muddled the lines between their personal lives becomes.

“Um,” Eddie begins, giving in. The directions his thoughts were heading were too existential for him to think about anymore. “Okay. So, you know how I stood up to my mom?” He sees Richie nod, unmoving otherwise. “Well, I’m just. Y’know. I’m worried.”

“Worried?” Richie cracks his eyes open and shifts so he’s facing his friend. “Worried about what?”

“Well, uh, just, y’know, stuff. Like consequences and whatnot.” Richie can see his friend clam up, and he rests a hand on Eddie’s knee. Eddie looks up into his eyes.

“Is that all?” Eddie frowns as Richie starts to smirk a little. “Just consequences? And whatnot?”

“Well, I don’t think you really get how she can get. She’s just so-"

“Overbearing? Oh, trust me, Eds, I know Mrs. K pretty well.” Eddie smacks the hand from his knee with a pointed look.

“Don’t call me that, and stop talking about my mom like that. Especially when we’re having a moment.” Richie raises his eyebrows and drawing a hand to his heart in mock shock.

“We’re having a moment?”

“Oh, you know what I meant, dipshit. Let me finish talking before you start up your stupid mouth.” Richie draws on a comical serious face and salutes to Eddie, opening his mouth to say something before being cut off. “God, I cannot stand you. Whatever, I’m done.”

Eddie stands up, brushing off his shorts and skin, before walking off. Richie sits there for a second before quickly following suite.

“Hey, wait up!”

“What do you want?” Eddie stops and turns around dramatically, sounding incredibly burdened by this exchange. “I said I’m done.”

“No, you’re not. C’mon, I promise I’ll stop.” Eddie just gives him a look of who do you think you’re talk to. “For real. It’s not good for you to have all that shit floa- piling on up there in your noggin. Let’s just talk. No, no, wait. You’ll talk; I’ll listen.” Eddie just laughs at him. Richie throws on a dramatic hurt look. “What? I can listen.”

“Maybe, but you can’t shut up.” Richie rolls his eyes and picks up his bike before walking to the road and gesturing for Eddie to follow him. The shorter stands there for a moment before kicking at the ground with a disgruntled expression. “Okay, fine, promise you’ll stop, though?”

“I’m gonna say yes, but my mouth works on its own, so it’s not my fault if it does happen.” Eddie shrugs, deciding that was good enough, and starts walking with his friend down the road.

“Alright. So, like, I’m worried about the consequences because you know how my mother is. I’m not sure how all this standing up to her bullshit is going to pan out. I've never  stood up to her before, and this change is weird. It already feels wrong and awful. I feel like I should, I dunno, apologize to her?" He hears Richie groan at this but refuses to look at or acknowledge him. "She's my mother, and I love her obviously, but I meant what I said. I'm not used to telling her off or anything. I don't really want her to get mad at me, or, god forbid, even more passive aggressive than she already is. I don't know how to explain this well, I guess... I'm the doormat that gets walked all over and for that to change in one afternoon just doesn't feel like it's going to stick. It's going to go back to how it always was, and I don't want that... It feels like forever until I don’t have to be around her everyday.”

Eddie stops talking, staring at the ground as he walks. Richie can tell he’s just composing his thoughts so that he can continue, looking as if his deep in thought. His eyebrows are furrowed and his bottom lip jutted out slightly, and Richie inexplicably smiles softly at the sight. He gets the familiar feeling he should talk, but in an unfamiliar way than he usually gets this feeling. Instead of just aiming to fill silence with whatever first pops into his head, he feels compelled to try and help Eddie in any way possible. Which for Richie, he assumes is not many.

“Well,” he begins, and Eddie looks up, clearly disappointed that Richie couldn’t keep his promise for more than two minutes. “That’s reasonable. Your whole life is getting flipped around! The tables are turning. Of course, you're going to have complex feelings about this whole fiasco. You told Mrs. K off, man. Yelling and throwing shit and just up and leaving? Damn, you’re absolutely crazy. A complete fucking madman. Like, like…I don’t know. But, it’s kind of cool. Ballsy, one might say. Its, uh, kind of impressive. But, I mean, wanna know what might be even more ballsy?” Eddie shakes his head, amazed that Richie wasn’t pulling a voice or a dumb joke right now. “Facing your mom, and standing your goddamn ground, Kaspbrak.”

“I guess…” Eddie gives a small smile before looking back at the ground. “I’m just not sure… that I can right now. I don’t know. It just sounds stupid because, I mean, I just fought a demon clown in the sewer after standing up to my mom like two hours ago. Y’know, a bunch of brave shit.” Eddie heaves a sigh, and walks a little closer to Richie. “What if… What if I used all my bravery or whatever? What if that’s all I can do that’s brave ever?”

Richie stares in disbelief at his friend. Eddie was definitely one of the bravest people he’s ever known, and it was just unbelievable to him that anyone would think otherwise. However, Richie wasn’t going to metaphorically jerk him off right now, figuring that just telling him he was wrong wasn’t going to fix the problem.

“Eddie, c’mon. You’re so brave. And so what if you’re done with being brave today? You don’t have to brave all the time, idiot. Just…Just when it matters. There’s gonna be more chances for you to brave in the future when it matters. Just because you don’t wanna go home doesn’t make you less brave. It makes you someone with a brain because I’ve seen Mrs. K in one of her episodes and oh man, that’s rough.” Richie nudges Eddie with his shoulder until the other looks up at him. “You don’t have to go home to your mom, y’know? You can stay with me tonight, Eds.” Richie waggles his eyebrows a little to make Eddie smile and succeeds.

“Don’t call me that.”

“There’s my Eds,” Richie shouts, letting go of his bike with one hand to sling an arm around the shorter boy, pulling him in close and ruffling his hair slightly. Eddie fights against this, shrieking slightly, before pushing away enough, though still in his arm, to glare up at the persecutor. “You’re too cute!”

Richie truly thinks Eddie looks cute in this moment. His hair is all messed up, his cheeks dusted with pink, and his eyes glaring up at Richie with little to no true malice in them. Richie just smiles widely and goes to pinch the boy’s cheeks before getting his hand slapped away.

“Shut up,” Eddie grumbles, trying to push his way out of Richie’s hold only to get squished farther into the taller boy’s side.

“He just doesn’t stop! This boy is on fire! I am getting seriously burned!”

Richie laughs at Eddie’s expression and leans over to push his glasses up with the hand that’s around Eddie. Eddie can’t stop his cheeks from getting darker at the proximity of Richie’s face and he’s confused as to why. Probably just the heat and potential germs. Either way, his face is gone as quickly as it came and Eddie shoots a look away from the other in an attempt to hide his blush.

“I hate you,” Eddie says with absolutely no truth behind his words. Richie just grins and lets Eddie go. He pats the shorter boy on his head.

“Whatever you say, Eddie Spaghetti.”

“Fuck off.”

“Really? Dare me? Right now?”

“N-no! What the fuck, Richie? Of course not!”

“I guess my hands are tied,” Richie says with a shrug, halting his stride to reach for the front of his pants. “A dare’s a dare.”

Eddie watches a second more completely dumbfounded as he actually unbuttons his pants before snatching him by the wrist to stop him. The bike falls like a barrier between them as Eddie gives him a dumbfounded look. Richie just cracks up and points at Eddie’s face, making the other self-conscious of his expression immediately. Eddie crosses his arms and starts walking again.

He knows that Richie is trying to make him feel better through his stupid brand of comedy, and it’s working more than he’d ever admit to anyone, but, damn, that boy just goes for the lowest hanging fruit. The fruit might as well be on the goddamn ground, rotting slightly and covered in bugs. As much as Eddie huffs and seemingly gets annoyed extensively at these jokes, he does find them endearing, though he'd never admit it.

“C’mon, that was funny,” Richie rushes after the other boy after rebuttoning his pants and picking his bike up. He slaps a hand on Eddie’s shoulder that just gets shrugged off. “Okay, wow, I was expecting more of 'Richie, you’re a comedic genius, and that was hilarious,' but whatever floats your boat.”

Eddie cringes at the high-pitched voice that Richie used to imitate him. “Richie, you’re a comedic genius, and that was hilarious,” Eddie deadpans, staring emotionlessly at Richie who grins in return.

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about.” Eddie rolls his eyes before glaring at the ground as they continued to walk. It’s silent, though not uncomfortable, for half a block before Richie taps his cast lightly. “Are you feeling better?”

Eddie looks up to catch the concern riddled in the magnified eyes from the coke-bottle glasses. Confusion washes over him. Is Richie really this concerned about him? He didn’t realize that Richie even cared about him more than Richie cares for the average Joe. Eddie chalks it up to Richie just feeling bad for him.

“Yeah.”

Richie smiles at this, and turns to look at the houses. They were a couple houses away from Eddie’s, and the dread settles back in at the thought of walking inside. He yelled at his mom and called out the “medicine” he’d been taking for his entire life for what it was: bullshit.

But he couldn’t help but feel awful for what he did to his mom because she only did it out of love. It was ass-backwards the method, but at the core, she truly cared for Eddie. This only made him feel guilty for hurting her the way he did. Sure, he was scared of the consequences, but he also didn’t want to go home so he wouldn’t have to face what he’d done. He wouldn’t have to look into his mom’s eyes and see the pain in them that her son was disrespectful and most likely sick somehow. He was always sick somehow.

“Is this your stop?” Richie asked in some sort of British accent for a reason Eddie couldn’t understand. Eddie stares up at his house and inhales deeply. A now or never moment, he supposes.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is.” Richie raises his eyebrows as if to ask you sure? Eddie forces a smile and shrugs. “No time like the present, I guess.”

“Cool. I’m proud of you,” Richie says with a wink, “for not pussying out. You go in there and knock ‘em dead, champ.” Richie claps his back like a proud father and Eddie rolls his eyes before walking up to his house. He pauses on the first step.

“Hey, Richie?” he calls, turning around to find the boy mounting his bike. Richie's curly hair flips away to reveal his big brown eyes, and Eddie sucks in a breath for an inexplicable reason as the sunlight casts a warm glow over the other boy's features. Eddie glances away as he toys with his fingers nervously. Why is he nervous? “Thanks.”

Richie flashes him a blinding smile before saying, “Anytime, lover boy.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Richie laughs before yelling a goodbye and riding off towards his house. Eddie turns back around and walks up towards his house, the smile slipping from his face as he remembers the dilemma he is currently facing. He pauses to take a deep breath at the door, resting his hand on the door knob. You can do this, Eddie, a voice that sounds strangely like Richie encourages him. He exhales and opens the door to his home.

Richie allows his mind to wander again as he rides the rest of the way home. Eddie is incredibly worried for nothing, really. It isn’t like his mom is going to do anything much worse than locking him up, which isn’t even that bad considering the fact that the Losers Club would just sneak him out anyway. Though, it is awful that the boy is so afraid of his mother. What kind of mother instills such psychological fear into their child that they’re afraid to come home?

God, Eddie deserves much better. He is so much more than his mother thought of him. He isn’t sick first off, and Eddie knows that, too. Richie is glad that he could finally see it, too. His mother also insists that Eddie is delicate, but Richie would argue again, especially after the events he had witnessed today in the sewer. A delicate boy would never yell, “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” at his biggest fear in the sewer whilst being covered in gunk. Eddie’s mom calls her son precious and well…Richie’s got to agree on this one.

Eddie, in his dumb short shorts and fanny packs, is truly precious. So short and small and cute and naïve. Richie thinks that it's incredibly adorable. And those giant Bambi eyes? Well, who could argue against those? He is incredibly passionate about his giant rants about germs and diseases. He can hold a bicker fest with Richie himself due to that sharp tongue and no-bullshit attitude, but he also has no clue about sexual things, due to living a sheltered life, that the gang loves to mercilessly try and explain in the most grotesque way.

Richie never gets tired of seeing his disgusted face. Or his annoyed face. Or his why am I friends with you? face. Or just his face. Or his nose scrunching up. Or his eyes rolling. Or his eyes squinting when he smiles. Oh, his smile. Richie’s heart fluttered.

Oh, wait.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Richie jolts up out of bed, gasping and clawing at his chest roughly. The darkness of his room greets him, and, although he isn’t fully comforted by this fact, he takes a deep, calming breath. His clawing hands slow down to clutch his large sleep shirt with both hands. A brief moment of calm before a wall of emotions slams into him. Warm tears slip down his cheeks, and he caves in on himself, sobbing heavily. He runs his hair through his hands roughly before gripping his head, pulling at his curls aggressively, so hard he feels like he’s going to rip his head open with sheer force.

The images from the sewer and the Neibolt house flash through his head. The clown…That damn clown is forever burned into his memory, that’s just a given. The menacing eyes, the white makeup, and the numerous teeth. Richie shivers at the thought. His skin is crawling with the fact that the clown’s face is tattooed into his mind. He sees the clown with a stake through its head making it more terrifying advancing on him and his friends. His breath catches in his throat, and he rubs violently at his eyes. The clown is gone from the room, but each time he blinks, he sees it again and again.

Richie sucks in shallow breaths before groping around his bed for his glasses that he knew he feel asleep in. Once he finds them, he slams them on his face, jumps out of the tangle of sheets, and grabs a large sweatshirt from the floor. He slips it on, shoves his feet in his shoes, and runs out of his room, not worried if his parents hear. They probably won't notice. Tears are still falling, and breaths are still shallow, but he sprints out into the cold night air.

He isn’t quite sure where he is going yet but starts walking anyway. He can’t stay in his room: not tonight, not alone. He didn’t feel safe, though he was at least ninety-five percent sure he was safe. Being alone was simply a call for danger. That thought has him checking over his shoulder sporadically. He tugs at the sleeves of his sweater, a nervous tick he began noticing he does more and more over the years.

Richie glances around his surroundings before stopping in front of his Eddie’s house. He stands there in the dim glow of the streetlight, chewing on his lip. Going into this house and into his friend’s arms will make him feel better, but is he okay with Eddie seeing him like this? Slightly hysterical and paranoid?

He sucks in a deep breath before wiping all around his eyes in an attempt to get rid of the tears and the redness knowing full well the latter is going to stick around. He exhales and stalks into the backyard, finding a couple pebbles and picking them up along the way. The window to his friend’s room looms overhead, and Richie contemplates just going back home before shaking that thought off and throwing a pebble up at the window before he can back down.

There’s no response. Richie huffs before throwing another. And another. He draws back to toss one more up when the window snaps open. He immediately stops his arm, stumbling slightly, and drops his rock onto the ground, looking up at the window. He blows some hair out of his face and stares into Eddie’s eyes as the other glares down at him. He's suddenly aware that he is not wearing pants and that maybe he's an idiot for doing this.

“What the hell are you doing?” he quietly yells, leaning out of the window with crossed arms. Richie smiles up at him. “It’s, like, one a.m., asshole! Don’t you sleep?”

“No way,” Richie teases, tugging at his sleeves absently. “Wait a second!” Eddie narrows his eyes as Richie gets down on one knee and extends his arms up to his friend. “But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?” Eddie rolls his eyes and flips him off. “It is the east, and Eddie Spaghetti is the sun!”

“Beep beep, Richie!” Eddie hisses though he laughs all the same. He watches with fond distaste as the Tozier boy falls to the ground laughing, but he can hear that the laughter isn’t genuine and begins to worry.

“Not into that? Well, I didn’t bring a fucking boombox,” Richie yells back. “Did you want me to serenade you with my lovely voice?”

“Can you just shut the fuck up? Why are you eve-” Eddie is cut off by Richie singing. A rather liberal use of that word, if Eddie is being honest.

“It’s gonna take a lot to drag me away from you!” Eddie blushes hard with a mantra of oh my god falling out of his mouth. He covers his face with his hands, shaking his head as if to fight the blush that is creeping it's way onto his face. “There’s nothing that a hundred men or more could ever do!”

Richie grins at how cute Eddie looks in this moment and woah. His voice cracks on the next line, and he can hear the quiet laughter Eddie is trying to hide behind the barrier of hands. Richie starts laughing, too, though trying to continue the song through it all. Eddie cuts him off before too long, clearly embarrassed and giving him the why am I friends with you? face that makes Richie's heart melt.

“Oh my god. Can you actually just shut the fuck up? What are you even doing here, Richie?”

“Just, uh, wanted to say hi to your mom.” Richie tugs at his sleeves and looks down. The other boy leans a little farther out of the window at this. This wasn’t like him at all. “Can I come in? It’s a bit…nippy out here.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and nods. “Whatever. Can you get up here? Like climb and shit?”

“Well, duh, I’m not an idiot.” Richie walks over to the side of Eddie’s house and looks up to find the other watching him with an amused look on his face.

“Debatable.”

“Ouch, Eds, I’m truly hurt.”

He clutches a hand to his heart, collapsing onto the side of the house. Eddie just rolls his eyes and tells him to hurry up before disappearing from the window. Richie scales the side of the house with a bit of help from a tree nearby and is crawling through the window in no time.

Closing the window, he looks around at the organized room, free of mess or dirt. He kicks his shoes off before walking over to the bed and sitting down. Eddie isn’t in the room, and although Richie has been here thousands of times, he still feels awkward in the other boy’s house especially with the other absent. He runs his hands along the smooth sheets, tugging lightly at the fabric. Maybe he should’ve just stayed home and not burdened his friend.

The door creaks as it swings open, and Eddie shuffles in carrying a blanket and glass of water. He tosses this blanket at Richie, takes a long drink of water, and sets the cup down. Richie hasn’t stopped tugging at the sheets, marring the neatly made bed in a way that personified his anxiety at the moment. Eddie looks over at him and those big brown eyes have words tumbling out of the taller boy’s mouth in an instant.

“Sorry for waking you up.” Eddie blinks.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I wasn’t really… Um, sleeping isn’t going so well tonight. Just been lying in bed mainly.”

He shifts from foot to foot as he speaks, one of his nervous ticks. Richie notices this and offers a rare, small smile to the boy, who smiles back instinctively. It’s hard for him to not smile at one of Richie’s few calm moments.

“Well, let’s lay together then.” Eddie shakes his head and looks ready to protest that. An assumption that Eddie is about to offer to sleep on the floor has Richie anxious again. He chalks it up to his nightmare. “What? There isn’t really anything to do in the Kapsbrak abode. Unless you consider your mom.”

“Beep beep, Richie.”

Eddie shoves him lightly, and Richie takes this opportunity to grab his arm and pull him onto the bed. While Eddie sputters and tries to lift himself up, Richie takes no shortage of time to get himself comfortable, in the most over the top fashion, under the blanket on Eddie’s bed and the blanket he was given. The hypochondriac watches this with the hint of a smile on his lips before shaking his head and turning the lamp light off. Richie pats the side of the bed unoccupied impatiently. Eddie slips into bed with less of a show.

Richie shifts onto his side to stare at his friend and feels his heart flutter at the sight. The way the moonlight was pouring into the room and backlighting his friend was truly breathtaking. It seems as though he was outlined in a blue-white glow, giving him an almost angelic look. He didn’t think Eddie could become more beautiful. He felt like his cheeks were heating up.

Damn, these thoughts really need to stop. Maybe it was just the trauma talking. Yeah, sure. Richie flips onto his back with a smile. This is probably some form of anxiety. He doesn’t feel like dishing it out too heavily tonight.

Whatever the case, he feels his anxieties from the night slipping away due to the presence of another human. It is slowly fading from his mind. Richie breathes out and closes his eyes, burrowing deeper into the blankets. He begins to drift off when a small hand grasps at his sweatshirt, pulling it towards him. He cracks on of his eyes and glances over at Eddie, who is staring at him with wide eyes.

“You doing okay?” Richie mumbles, drowsiness seeping into his voice. Eddie tightens his grip. The trashmouth raises his eyebrows at this, blinking slowly.

“I can’t sleep.”

The voice is small and quiet, which makes Richie feel bad. He sympathetically pats the hand gripping his sweatshirt twice and shoots a concerned look towards his friend.

“Well, I can,” Richie says, making a show of closing his eyes as Eddie scoffs at him and pulls his hand away.

“You’re such an asshole.”

“I’m joking, Eds,” Richie snickers, turning to his side so he could look at his friend’s disgruntled face. He props his head up with his elbow and grabs the smaller boy’s hand, staring down at the appendage. He begins tracing the lines in his palm as he speaks. “You wanna talk or anything?”

“I’m not sure. It’s a lot. And don’t call me that.”

“That’s okay, I’ve got nothing else to do unless your mom is awake.”

Richie glances up at his friend with a smirk and laughter brimming in his eyes. Eddie just stares at him for a good five seconds before letting out an exasperated breath.

“Okay. Wow. I’m going to bed.”

He moves to turn onto his other side, but Richie grabs his shoulder, keeping him firmly in place. He moves his hand up to lightly grab Eddie’s face and make him look at the other. Both of their faces turn pink at the touch.

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m joking again,” Richie says softly, running his fingers gently over Eddie's warm cheeks. Eddie pulls his eyes away as his face burns even warmer.

“What a surprise,” Eddie grumbles, furrowing his brow and scowling. Richie lightly smiles at the annoyed tone and taps the boy’s cheeks with his fingers lightly.

“Hey, I’m listening. I’m not making you talk, but maybe it’d be easier for you if you did is all. Of course, we could just talk about this later. We have the rest of our lives.”

They lay there in silence for a moment. Richie hums softly, closing his eyes and dropping his hand from Eddie’s face. He stretches his arms out, invading Eddie’s personal space, and pulls them back to his chest. Eddie finds himself missing the warmth from the trashmouth’s presumably dirty hand. He sighs and grabs Richie’s sweatshirt again, picking at a loose thread.

“I’m just scared, y’know?” Richie nods slowly with his eyes still closed. “I’m scared that this isn’t… That we didn’t… What if- was that really it? Like this seems too easy, I guess. We killed It- well, we probably did- and what do we do now? Just go back to what we were doing before we got all wrapped up in all this supernatural bullshit? I mean, isn’t everything changed? Can we even…Will everything go back to normal? It feels impossible.”

“Well, normal is relative, Eddie spaghetti, but no.”

Richie opens his eyes and finds a large pair already staring at him. They were filled with confusion and desperation. Something swells in Richie’s heart, and he feels compelled to replace those feelings with those of happiness. He sighs and grabs Eddie’s hand, pulling it away from his sweatshirt and interlocking their fingers.

“I don’t think things are going back to normal. Well, maybe some things, I guess, like my jokes and nights with your mom-” Eddie rolls his eyes, “-but I don’t know anything for sure. Everything could just be normal or whatever, or everything could be completely awful and different. That’s a bridge we don’t have to cross right now, y’know? That’s the future; we’re in the present. Maybe let’s not worry about it tonight, okay?”

The small smile and comforting eyes are too much for Eddie. He’s been thinking too hard for too long about this, and that can’t be the answer. Just not worry about it? Idiotic. Tears brim at his eyes in sadness or frustration, he can’t really tell.

“It isn’t that simple, Richie,” he says with a sigh as a tear slips down his face. Richie frowns. He brings their still entwined hands up and wipes the tear away with the back of Eddie’s hand. “It can’t be that simple. Just-just 'let’s not worry?' That’s not possible. All I do is worry!”

The words tumble out of his mouth quickly as his frustration grows. He stares into Richie’s eyes and realizes the idiot is still wearing his glasses. They’re pressed against his face, distorting the image by pulling at his skin in funny ways. He smiles faintly at this small fact, a certain fondness washing over him. It’s unbelievable how Richie always makes him feel better even when he doesn’t open his mouth and crack a joke.

“I didn’t say forever, dumbass. Just not for this moment. This night. Look, I’m here, aren’t I?” Richie makes a vague motion to the bed with the hand still holding Eddie’s. “I’m sure you’re all in your head about whether us Losers are gonna all still be friends, right?” Eddie hesitates and nods his head. “Well, I’m at least, like, ninety-five percent sure we will be because who-who comes out of this fucked summer and says, “man, y’know what I’d like to do now? Ditch all my friends.” That’s just dumb, Eds. And then, even if all those fuckers ditch us, which they totally won’t because, I mean, look at us,” Richie bops the boy on his nose, making him roll his eyes at this even with a small smile playing at his mouth, “we still got each other.

“Like c’mon, dipshit. I’m not going anywhere, which means you’ll have one friend, so why are you so worried? The future is so far away, stop being dumb because you can’t see it. It’s supposed to be a mystery and what good is a mystery when you know what’s gonna happen? Like, who cares if stuff goes back to normal? Not me.”

Richie pauses to take a breath, opens his mouth to speak again, but apparently thinks better of it. He closes his mouth with a smug look on his face, like he just gave a powerful speech in front of millions. Eddie just stares at him dumbfounded. He blinks slowly before grinning because his friend is so dumb.

“Thanks, trashmouth.” Richie breaks into a smile that is so infectious Eddie catches it, too.

“Anytime, Eds,” he says. “However, a boy does need his beauty sleep.”

"I can tell."

"Excuse me?" Richie scoffs and pulls a face of mock offense that has them devolving into a fit of laughter, pushing at each other lightly and sticking their tongues out. Their hands separate in this tomfoolery, which both of them notice but make no moves to remedy. The laughter begins to die down and Richie removes his glasses with a dramatic flair, passing them to Eddie with a snobbish look.

Eddie chuckles at the theatrics, leaning over to put the glasses on his bedside table as Richie gets comfortable yet again. When Eddie flops back into bed, Richie can barely make out his silhouette anymore, and he sighs. He can no longer admire the beauty that is his male friend, and he refuses to acknowledge that though any further.

He goes to turn over when a small hand yet again grabs his sweatshirt. This time, however, it attempts to pull the boy closer to him, not making much progress. Richie laughs and scoots closer to his friend, pulling him into his arms. This close, with his bad vision, Richie can see the blush on his friend’s cheeks and grins. He holds Eddie in his arms, head to his chest for the rest of the night. What feels like a long time passes before he hears a yawn and feels two small hands squeeze his sides.

“Night, Richie.”

Richie’s heart flutters for what seems like no reason. He closes his eyes and squeezes back.

“Night, lover boy.”