Work Text:
Ksshht. "This is B-Bill to G-G-Georgie."
The seven year old slotted his knees closer to his chest in the closet, digging out his radio.
Ksshht. "This is Georgie. Over!" he whispered. It was Saturday in October, and all of Bill's friends were there. Georgie would have invited his other three friends, but Jeremy was in Florida with his aunt for the week, Christopher had the flu, and Timmy had his grandmother over to visit. He was fine with it, though. He loved hanging out with Billy's friends; it made him feel big.
Thunder boomed outside as rain pattered against the roof, and he curled in on himself a little more. Just thunder-- just thunder.
Bill smiled a little at his younger brother's attempt to keep his position a secret with a low voice, but quickly got back to business, clearing the smile off his face. "Y-you're being safe, right? I don't want you h-hiding under the s-s-stairs or in the attic, w-where stuff could f-fall on you, and-"
"Of course I'm being safe, Billy," Georgie whispered, not mentioning to his big brother that he was, in fact, hiding in the attic. He then gasped, tucking his radio away again. He could hear footsteps.
"I swear I saw him run up here," Richie said, scratching his head. Eddie looked up at the ceiling, and cringed, shaking his puffer and taking an anxious puff of it.
"Look at all these gross cobwebs. Let's get out of here Richie, and try searching the kitchen again."
"Stan's already searching the kitchen with Bill..." Richie said absently, "Plus, we don't wanna walk in on them swapping spit."
Eddie pursed his lips in disgust. "In the kitchen? God, that's so fuckin' unsanitary...."
"What, you mean you wouldn't wanna do it with me?" Richie teased, making kissy lips, and Eddie pushed his friend so hard he went flying into a dusty old cabinet.
"Geez, for such a little guy, you're strong," Richie muttered, brushing himself off. Then he got an idea; he began knocking along the wallpaper. "Georgie!" Eddie glared at him, crossing his arms.
"What do you think he did, genius, brick himself up in the walls?" Richie looked back at the smaller boy, and gave a sheepish shrug.
"Georgie's really good at hiding," Richie whispered, pushing up his glasses. Inside the closet, Georgie grinned. One time when they were playing hide and seek, it took everyone two hours to find him-- the only reason they did was Bill got worried and told him to come out or he would tell mom and dad.
Downstairs, Stan was looking around with Bill.
"Where is he?" Stan wondered, looking under the tablecloth.
"G-Georgie was always good at hiding," Bill replied, and jumped a little as a crack of thunder went off outside. Out of curiosity, he checked behind the curtains-- no, Georgie was smarter than that, the curtains were too easy.
"You already look worried," Stan smiled a little, bumping shoulders with Bill. Bill blushed a little.
"I-I just like knowing w-where he is, you know? I d-don't know what I'd d-do if something h-happened to him."
Stan nodded. "I'm an only child, so I can't really relate. But Georgie's a cute kid, and I don't want anything to happen to him either."
Richie and Eddie entered the kitchen.
"Every. Single. Room," Richie announced, clenching his fists, "EVERY ROOM!"
"Still n-no sign of him?" Bill grinned.
"Nope," Eddie shook his head, "We're stumped." Bill went over all the places his little brother would hide in his mind-- his room would be too obvious. Bill's room was too messy to get around anything to hide. The living room didn't have enough good spots. The dining room was too well-lit, but there was no way in hell Georgie would hide in the cellar for the darkness-- he was scared stiff of it. Bill used to be too, when he was younger. Now, he understood the glowing eyes were just light bulbs, and the creaking he heard was just from upstairs.
Aha! Upstairs. He suddenly knew exactly where Georgie had hidden.
Ksshht. "Come on down, we've got cookies! Over."
"He's not gonna fall for that," Stan whispered.
Upstairs in the attic, Georgie emerged from his hiding spot. Cookies. His stomach rumbled. He supposed if they were all giving up, it was the same as winning, so it was okay to come out.
As he closed the closet door and turned though, something caught his eye. Just outside the window, something red floated by. Georgie walked over to look, but all he saw was the rain cascading down the glass in never-ending rivulets, and the glow of the house across the street.
Turning around again, Georgie stopped. In the dark, scary corner of the room, he saw a red balloon floating. He couldn't remember seeing it there before, so Richie or Eddie couldn't have brought it up, could they? The little boy looked at it for a moment, before rubbing his eyes. This time when he opened them, the balloon was being held between two white gloved fingers.
"I'm brave, I'm brave, I'm brave," Georgie whispered to himself. He swallowed, closing his eyes and rubbing them one more time.
The balloon was gone, just as quickly as it had appeared.
He walked backward, biting his lip, and hurried down the stairs. It wasn't real, just like the eyes in the cellar weren't real. Bill was brave. He could be brave, just like Bill.
Everyone downstairs was silent, until they all heard thumping coming down the stairs.
"Cookies?"
They turned to see Georgie in his grey sweater, poking his head around the corner. Bill laughed, and opened his arms, letting Georgie run to him and give him a hug.
He seemed so happy... so content, as though he didn't have a care in the world. And why should he? He was a seven year old, just gone back to school for second grade. All the teachers loved him-- Bill was always so proud of Georgie when he came home with a report card full of As. Bill was never as smart as Georgie when it came to school stuff-- he was more creative, and liked drawing, but his favourite was writing, because when he wrote stories, he didn't have to stutter them out.
Georgie never minded Bill's stutter, though. He never said anything about it, and never tried to rush him as he spoke-- Henry Bowers and his gang brought it up with him, calling Georgie "Bu-bu-Bill's bu-bu-brother!" and names like that at school, but Georgie never seemed phased by it.
Bill's fists curled as he thought of the Bowers group. If they ever laid a hand on Georgie, he'd...
He let himself calm down, and directed his attention back to the smiling boy in front of him. "I thought told you not to hide in the attic," he said, and Georgie looked down, kicking his foot against a misplaced tile in the kitchen floor.
"You'd find me if I didn't."
"Would that really be so bad?" Richie groaned, rubbing his back dramatically like an aching 80-year-old.
"You did good, George," Stan said, rubbing Georgie's hair. The boy smiled, and Eddie passed him the cookie jar, not before pocketing a few to win good favour with his mom upon returning home later.
"Stanley?" Georgie asked, munching on a cookie. Eddie brushed the crumbs off the boy's sweater as Stan answered.
"Mhmm?"
"Why were you and my brother taking each other's spit?"
Stan choked, and Bill covered his mouth, starting to cough. They both looked at each other with deep blushes, before knowing looks passed over their faces.
"Richie," they both said.
"What?!" Richie put his hands up, "I didn't know the little fu- uh, the little guy could hear me!"
"Bill and I weren't, um... taking each other's spit," Stan explained, "Don't listen to Richie, he doesn't know what he's talking about."
"Is it a thing you do when you like someone?" Georgie pressed on, "Like mom and dad, when they put their lips together and suck on each other's faces?"
Richie burst out laughing, and Stan went an even deeper red, turning to Richie with murder in his eyes. Richie went to hide behind Eddie, who swallowed.
"Y-yeah, you could s-say that," Bill explained, "b-but Stan and I... aren't... w-well, we h-haven't -- um..."
Saved by the thunderstorm, a crack of lightning illuminated the dark mid afternoon sky, and Georgie hid behind the closest Loser there was, who happened to be Eddie.
"Why is everyone hiding behind me?" the smallest of the lot cried, "I'm a wimp!"
"You are not a wimp, Eddie Kaspbrak," Richie challenged, crossing his arms.
"Oh yeah?" Eddie challenged back, jutting out his chin as he faced Richie, "How do you figure?"
"Well, you braved the dangers of the attic of doom with me, Eddie the Explorah!" he replied, grabbing Eddie and slinging an arm around his neck as he fell into his British voice, "You fought your way through the den of evil, slaying cobwebs and holding your head high, my good man!"
"You should really be on a comedy television broadcast, wise guy," Eddie muttered back, "And don't call me Eds. I hate it when you call me that." Of course, he couldn't help the slight smile on his face Richie always gave him, because he did not, in reality, hate it that much when Richie did called him that.
More thunder crackled, and the power flickered.
"Billy, how long will the storm last?" Georgie asked nervously. He was already a little shaken by the incident in the attic, and the noises weren't helping. Bill looked out the window. It was pouring rain, and the sky periodically lit up with more lightning, though it was father away each time.
"It's supposed to s-s-storm for the next three days before clearing up," he told Georgie. "It's a b-bad one too. I took out the t-trash this morning, and I c-can already f-feel a cold coming on."
"You can?" Eddie asked, backing up away from him. Bill rolled his eyes.
"I s-said coming on, Eddie, I'm n-not sick yet." Eddie gulped, and felt around for some pills just in case. "J-just to be s-safe though, I'd s-stay in for the w-weekend."
"But I wanted to make a boat with you and float it down the river, remember Billy?" Georgie asked, tugging on his sleeve. Bill remembered. He remembered Georgie's hopeful eyes when he had asked, and how excited he had been when he had promised his little brother they'd make a paper boat the next time it rained and float it together.
"W-well... if it's n-not too bad tomorrow, m-maybe we can do it. B-but it's t-too dangerous to go to the b-b-barrens when the w-water's this high... we can just f-float it down the street, okay?"
"Okay," Georgie grinned, hopping up on a chair and taking another cookie.
"That's enough sugar for you," Bill added, taking the jar away. Georgie pouted, but Richie stole a cookie from Eddie's pocket, giving it to him.
"Hey, you guys wanna s-stay for d-dinner?" Bill asked his friends, "M-Mom and D-Dad won't be home until real late, and they left m-money for p-p-pizza."
"Pizza? Who am I to refuse such temptation, Billy boy?" Richie asked, flopping onto the couch.
"I'll have to ask my mom, but... well, I'm sure it'll be fine," Eddie smiled a little.
"I kind of have to study for my bar mitzvah reading..." Stan began, but once Bill turned to him and he was looking his friend in the eyes, he stumbled. "That is... um, I meant to say, I have to do that tomorrow. I'm totally free tonight, sure."
(Besides... it's not like he wanted to go anywhere near that creepy flute lady painting in his dad's office that night anyway; especially not at night during the storm.)
"Yay! A pizza party!" Georgie grinned, and went to get up on the stool to wash his hands. Bill got on the phone with the pizza place, and shouted over his shoulder to ask what kind everyone wanted.
"Hawaiian!" Stan called.
"Without the pineapples!" Eddie added.
"Yeah, fuck the pineapples," Richie agreed, pushing up his glasses. Bill nodded. At least everyone could agree on that.
A little later as they ate, they switched on the TV, which was on some strange kid's show with a lady and a bunch of children singing nursery rhymes about sewers or something. Richie did a funny impression of her-- it got a little inappropriate, and they had to stop him with a 'beep beep' before Georgie started asking anymore questions.
As the Denbroughs were still out doing whatever adults in Derry did on Saturday nights, they settled on a comedy show that Richie loved and had his eyes trained on, and Eddie was laying against his shoulder, playing with the buttons on Richie's pocket as they watched together.
Stan sat beside Bill, stealing glances over every now and then, as the TV flickered images over them to illuminate Georgie, where he had his head in Bill's lap. He was sleeping soundly to the sound of the rain and the laugh track on television, little body rising and falling evenly.
Bill looked down and sniffled a little, stroking Georgie's sandy hair away from his eyes, and found himself looking forward to going with his little brother the next day to float the S.S. Georgie... if this damn cold cleared up by morning.