Work Text:
1) “Who do you like better, Princess Leia or Han Solo?” Eddie asks.
“In what way?” Richie asks. “Who do I wish I was? Or who do I want to date?”
“Either. Both.”
“Han Solo.”
“...which answer was--?”
The trapdoor to the clubhouse opens up and Richie looks up guiltily like he’s a raccoon caught stealing from a trashcan. He rolls out of the hammock he and Eddie had been sharing as Stanley and Ben start climbing down the ladder. Stanley doesn’t notice that Richie’s blushing, but Eddie does.
2) “Is that nail polish?” Richie asks, taking a hold of Eddie’s palm and straightening out his fingers to get a closer look.
“Sharpie,” Eddie says.
“Why?”
“Got bored in bio.”
“It looks cool.”
“Thanks.”
“...is it like a goth thing?”
(Eddie has been into KISS and Twisted Sister lately. He’s letting his hair grow out. He’s been wearing more black. It’s a fair question.)
“Not really.”
“It’s nice.”
“Thanks, I like it too.”
Richie’s still holding Eddie’s hand up. Eddie’s fingers have curled downwards, brushing gently against Richie’s. It almost tickles. Tingles, rather. Like electricity.
“It’s the contrast, right? Because you’re so pale,” Richie says nervously.
“Chiaroscuro,” Ben interjects.
Richie turns to look at him. “What?”
“In art. The interplay between light and dark.”
“You’re a nerd,” he says, finally dropping Eddie’s hand.
All throughout lunch, though, he’s still looking at Eddie’s fingers.
“Do me,” he says.
“Uh what?”
“Do my nails, I want mine done too. Do you have a different color?”
“I have a highlighter,” Bev says.
“Hm. Anyone else got any other options?”
They rifle through their pencil cases. Richie ends up going with a base coat of wite-out. Bev volunteers to apply it for him, and Richie can’t very well say no, he wants Eddie to do it. When she’s finished, he splays his fingers over Eddie’s.
“Look, chiaruscope,” he says.
“What?”
“What Ben said. Light and dark.”
Eddie flips his hand over and laces his fingers with Richie’s. “Cool,” he says.
Unfortunately, the bell rings, and they have to get up to throw away their garbage and go to different classrooms. But they both study their hands instead of their notes the whole time.
3) “Bill. Fuck, Marry, Kill: Margaret Thatcher, Nancy Reagan, Ethel Merman,” Richie calls across the clubhouse.
“You’re a sick fuck, Richie,” Stan says from his place in the hammock, spider-prevention cap on his head.
“Ew, none,” Bill says, frowning.
“You have to answer. The whole point of the game is to make tough decisions.”
“They’re supposed to be tough because you want to fuck all of them, not kill all of them,” Bev says, but Richie shushes her.
“Oh my god. Kill Thatcher, marry Nancy, fuck Ethel, I guess,” Bill says.
Richie was absolutely using this question as an excuse to debut his Ethel Merman Voice, and he only stops singing in it when the booing gets too loud for anyone to hear anymore.
“Stan. Fuck, Marry, Kill: Winnie the Pooh, Piglet, Tigger,” Richie says. Ben laughs.
“Well, Piglet’s not kosher,” Stan says, “so I guess I’d have to kill him.” The entire clubhouse roars. “Then I’ll marry Pooh and fuck Tigger.”
“Ben. Fuck, Marry, Kill: John Waters, Tim Curry in Rocky Horror Picture Show, David Bowie,” Richie says.
Eddie whistles.
“I know, it’s a tough one,” Richie says, knocking his knee into Eddie’s.
“I’ve never seen Rocky Horror, ” Ben says.
“Yeah but you should know what he looks like.”
“Well I don’t, so the question’s not fair.”
“Fine then, we’ll come back to you. Bev, your question now.”
“Marry Bowie, fuck Tim Curry, kill John Waters. Sorry, John,” Bev says.
“Mike.”
“Oh, lord.”
“Charlie Sheen, Matthew Broderick, Anthony Michael Hall.”
Mike sighs heavily, knowing Richie’s going to demand an answer. “Kill Matthew.”
“Not Ferris!” Eddie says.
“Ferris is an asshole. Fuck Anthony, marry Charlie.”
“The nerds get you hot and bothered, huh?” Richie asks.
“They must, why else would I still be hanging around you all?”
When they stop laughing, Richie addresses Eddie, sitting next to him, as always. “Eddie Spaghetti. Fuck, Marry, Kill: Me, Mike, Bill.”
“Kill you,” Eddie says automatically, kicking at Richie’s foot with his own.
“Hey!”
“Mike, Bill, which of you wants my hand in marriage?” Eddie asks.
“Bill can have it,” Mike says.
“I don’t want it,” Bill says.
“Which of you wants Eddie’s virginity?” Stan asks, and Eddie and Richie both squawk indignantly.
“Bill can have it,” Mike repeats.
“I don’t want it.”
“Someone’s gotta take it,” Richie says. “I would but I’m dead.”
“Eddie, I’ll take your virginity,” Ben says graciously.
“And I’ll marry you, you and Bowie can be my co-husbands,” Bev says.
“This isn’t fair, Bev gets David Bowie and Eddie and I’m stuck with Nancy Reagan?” Bill says, and everyone howls with laughter again.
“Richie. Fuck, Marry, Kill: Eddie, Mike, and Bill,” Stan proposes.
“I’m gonna do all of them to Eddie,” Richie says. “It’ll be a wild honeymoon.”
“OK but in which order? I hope killing is after fucking,” Bev says.
“That’s between me and Eddie’s corpse,” Richie says, and they all collapse laughing again.
“The operative question here is how we’re killing all of these people,” Mike says, “and how we’re getting away with it.”
This launches them into riffing on committing the perfect crime, and the game falls by the wayside.
4) “Hey, look at these little queerboys! Sissy fagolas!” Henry Bowers shouts in the middle of the hallway, grabbing a freshman’s hair and yanking his head to the side so that he slams into a locker and crumples to the ground. The freshman, Adrian Mellon, had been holding hands with Dan Hagarty, a kid in Eddie’s bio class, trying to be discreet and unnoticed in the packed halls.
Belch Huggins and Victor Criss laugh and reach over to pull at Adrian and Dan’s clothing, breaking them apart, then slapping them in the face, punching them around a little, shouting about cocksucking and AIDS. A circle has formed, the two boys knocked to the floor, at the center, hunched over, trying to protect their heads, when Eddie finds himself stepping into the ring and yelling, “Leave ‘em alone, Henry!”
“What’s that, homo?” Henry turns to Eddie. “You want them to pound you up the butthole?”
“They’re not hurting anyone, they’re just going to class,” Eddie says, his voice cracking. “Just mind your own business and let them go.”
“Sounds like we’ve got another bumpuncher,” Henry says, giving Adrian a kick to the ribs, and Victor and Belch hoot with laughter.
“So what if they are gay? It doesn’t matter if we’re homos or not. You can’t keep beating up on people who can’t fight back, it’s pathetic. Stop picking on them because they’re littler ‘n you. It’s not their fault you’re a stupid piece of white trash and your dad belongs in the nuthouse.”
By now the other Losers have reached Eddie and are trying to form a line between the bullies and the bullied, but can’t get quite close enough to separate Dan and Adrian from the pack. Richie stations himself right behind Eddie. Bill’s on Eddie’s other side. Murmurs from the other kids who have stopped to watch ripple outwards. This is shaping up to be a hell of a brawl.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
“Smaller words,” Bill says. “You. Dumdum. Your dad,” and he does the universal gesture for crazy, circling the air next to his ear with his forefinger.
“How’s it feel to be so ugly that your mom ran away so she wouldn’t have to look at you anymore?” Mike asks.
“I’m gonna rip off your head and shit down your neck,” Henry says, pulling out his knife.
“Hey, Henry,” Richie says. “I fucked your dad. He was a lousy lay, not worth the fifty cents at all. That truckstop bathroom stall promised me a good time, talk about false advertising.”
“Why don’t you go fulfill your destiny of smoking crack in a bowling alley until you shit your pants, you waste of space,” Stanley pipes up. Richie laughs, and so does someone else in the crowd, and that makes Henry angrier than anything else has so far. He lunges forward at Richie, but Ben lets out a bellow, runs forward, and headbutts him straight in the stomach. Henry goes down like a tree falling in the woods and the knife skitters across the floor. Belch and Victor reach for it, but Mike and Bill slap and kick their hands away. Bev gets to it first.
“If you come near any of us I’ll cut out your fucking eyeballs,” Bev threatens, brandishing the switchblade.
“All right, everyone, break it up,” one of the teachers says, pushing through the throng of students. “Get to class, all of you. Miss Marsh, put that down. No one’s taking out anyone’s eyes. You three,” he says, grabbing Henry by his collar, “come with me.”
Bev retracts the blade and hands it to the algebra teacher, who stepped outside to see what all the commotion was. Bill and Ben help up Adrian and Dan, who still look terrified, while the crowd disperses.
“Are you OK?” Bill asks.
“Yeah,” Adrian says, placing a hand on his ribs to assess the damage.
“Thank you,” Dan says. “Really, thank you, Eddie, I thought we were dead.”
“Aw, don’t, it’s--” Eddie says, embarrassed. “Those guys are jerks. They’ve got no right to go pushing you around.”
“I hope they end up in juvie this time,” Ben says. “They’re not supposed to have knives in school.”
Dan’s bleeding from a cut above his eyebrow, and Adrian’s got a bloody lip and a black eye forming. “Do you need help cleaning up? I’ve got a first-aid kit in my locker,” Eddie asks.
“No, it’s OK, we’ll go to the nurse,” Dan says. “I think it would be better if we didn’t go to class right now.”
“I’ll walk you there, it’s on my way,” Bill says.
Bev and Ben are checking to make sure the other is OK, and they fall in line with Bill.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Adrian says to Eddie, looking around at the empty halls, “but can I give you a hug? That was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Oh, um, sure?” Eddie says. “Yeah, man.”
Adrian embraces him gently and at the last second gives him a kiss on the cheek. Eddie immediately blushes hot. Dan gives him a hug too, and whispers, “Thank you. We all have to stick together.”
“Uh--” Eddie says, and then they’re gone.
We?
Eddie turns to glance at Richie, Stan, and Mike, who are standing five feet away looking awkward.
“Did I say ‘we’?”
“I think you might’ve,” Richie says, deliberately casual. “‘It doesn’t matter if we’re homos or not,’ is what you said.”
“Aw, shit,” Eddie says. “I didn’t mean to--”
“Hey, it doesn’t matter if we are or not, like you said,” Richie replies. “Bowers doesn’t get to treat anyone like that.”
We?
“And that wasn’t the most memorable thing that just happened. I think everyone’ll be talking about how Bev pulled a knife on Henry anyway,” Stan adds.
“Right? That was badass,” Mike says.
“You’ve got, um,” Richie says, and reaches out to swipe his thumb across Eddie’s jaw. “Adrian got some blood on you.”
Eddie pulls out a handkerchief and hands it to Richie, who wipes off his finger and then tenderly cleans the rest of it off of Eddie’s face.
“Thanks,” Eddie breathes out.
“You’re a good man, Eds,” Richie says, clapping Eddie on the shoulder.
“Don’t call me Eds.”
5) “Wanna go swimming?” Richie asks, watching Eddie lick the remainder of his melted ice cream from the bottom of the cone.
“Yeah, alright,” Eddie says, wiping his chin with a napkin.
It’s just them today. Bill’s at one of George’s Little League away games, Ben and Bev are on a date at the movies, and Mike and Stan are doing things with their families. It’s the second day of summer vacation. Neither of them has a car or a license, even though they both turned 16 this year, so they ride their bikes up to the quarry, sweating profusely by the time they get there, their clothes clinging to their moist bodies. They strip out of their shirts and shoes.
“Bet you ten bucks I can jump out further than you can,” Eddie begins, sliding out of his shorts, “whoa whoa whoa what are you doing?”
Richie straightens up, leaving his shorts and underwear on the ground. “What?”
Eddie desperately tries to look anywhere but at Richie’s crotch. “Dude, don’t just whip it out, we’re in public.”
“There’s no one around, no Bev or girls or anyone, and I like it better this way. It’s freer and it doesn’t chafe afterwards,” Richie says. “Relax, I go skinny dipping here all the time.”
“Uh--”
“You can keep your panties on if you want, I won’t judge,” Richie says, grinning.
“I don’t wear panties,” Eddie says, gesturing at his gray briefs. “Dude, it’s weird if only one of us is wearing clothes.”
“No it’s not. We’re gonna be underwater, you won’t even notice me, and I won’t be looking at you. Unless you want me to.”
“Why would I want you to loo--” Eddie says, but stops himself, blushing harder.
“Again, no judgment,” Richie says, winking, relishing how uncomfortable he’s making Eddie. Eddie keeps sneaking peeks at Richie and getting embarrassed and looking away.
“Stop making fun of me.”
“I’m not!”
“You’re teasing. I don’t like being teased.”
“You think I’m a tease?” Richie grins, waggling his eyebrows.
“That’s NOT what I meant,” Eddie says. “You’re being all...flirty.”
“I wouldn’t call it flirty,” Richie says, but that’s exactly what he’s being. “I prefer ‘affectionate.’ ‘Whimsical,’ even.”
“Well, stop being whimsical.”
“Stop being so easily flustered, cutiepie,” Richie says.
“I’m going home,” Eddie says, not sure if he’s serious or not yet.
“Do what you want, I’m going in,” Richie says, jumping over the edge, hoping he didn’t push Eddie too far, that Eddie will follow him as he hits the water.
He splashes back to the surface.
“Ah, fuck, it’s cold!” he shouts, “stay up there, Eds, save yourself!” but it’s too late, Eddie’s flying over him, shrieking wildly. He plunges into the water five feet ahead of Richie.
“Mother of GOD,” he screams. “It’s freezing, what the fuck!”
Richie swims over to him and treads water.
“I think my balls have fully retracted inside my body,” Richie observes, his teeth chattering. "They're not coming back down."
“Mine too. This is what I get for listening to you,” Eddie says, wrapping his arms around his chest. “You owe me 10 bucks and a new set of balls.”
“Here, share my body heat,” Richie says, pulling Eddie towards him. Eddie scrambles away.
“Dude, no, we’re not touching tips right now.”
“You left the panties up there?”
“‘Let’s go skinny dipping,’ he says, ‘it’ll be refreshing,’ he says. I’m never being whimsical with you again,” Eddie complains.
“I was expecting our first time being naked together to be more fun than this,” Richie says.
“Shut up, oh my god.”
“My nipples could cut glass.”
“Dude, I’m dying of hypothermia, I don’t want the last words I ever hear to be about your nipples.”
“I thought it would get better the more I moved around but I think I’m losing feeling in my feet,” Richie says.
“I’m calling the fucking cops, this is a public health hazard. I’m taking this as a personal insult,” Eddie says. “Fuck this water.” He splashes some of it at Richie. Richie splashes some back.
There’s a ladder in the rock wall leading up to the ledge of the quarry that’s much closer than the shallow end of the water, so they climb up that to escape the frigid cold. Eddie gets an eyeful of Richie’s thin buttocks and long thighs as he scurries up the ladder. Eddie climbs out too, and they both cup their junk in their hands and run back to shuffle into their clothes.
“That was a terrible idea,” Eddie says, fully dressed and still shivering, stealing the plaid shirt Richie had been wearing over his band tee shirt and putting it on.
“Give that back,” Richie says.
“I need more layers, fuck you.”
“That’s my extra layer! Fuck you!” Richie tackles him.
“Aagghhh!”
“Eds, keep me warm,” Richie says, burrowing into Eddie’s chest, wrapping his arms around Eddie while he squirms wildly.
“I’ll never be warm again,” Eddie says. He rubs Richie’s upper arms to get his blood circulation going faster.
“I’m dying,” Richie says weakly. “Tell your mother I loved her.”
“She’s out of your league,” Eddie says, continuing to rub.
“That feels better,” Richie says, letting his full weight rest on Eddie in a way that’s supposed to be obnoxious but is oddly comfortable. Richie’s hooked his chin over Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie’s brought his arms around to run his hands soothingly up and down Richie’s back, and suddenly his newly won warmth is rising to Eddie’s cheeks.
“You weigh a ton.” This is a lie. Richie’s all bones, gangly and coltish even though he eats like a bottomless pit.
“Ben would be really warm right now,” Richie says. “Let’s get him up here, start a cuddle pile.”
Eddie hums in agreement, his eyes closed against the brightness of the sky. The sun-baked stone beneath him and the solid weight of Richie above him is making him sleepy.
“Your hair is dripping on me,” Eddie says. Richie shakes his head so more droplets fall into Eddie’s face. Eddie grabs Richie by the hair and pulls his head back, forcing Richie to meet his eyes, and the annoyance he’d been feeling gets replaced by something much different. Their faces are very, very close together, and their bodies are very, very flush against each other. It would be disastrously easy to cross a line and ruin everything.
“I--” Richie says stupidly, not knowing how he’s going to finish that sentence.
“Get off me,” Eddie says quietly. “Please.”
Richie moves aside, and Eddie sits up. He clears his throat. “Your shirt,” he says, pulling his arms out of the sleeves and handing it over to Richie.
“Looks better on you,” Richie says, balling it up into a pillow.
“Everything does,” Eddie says. “Want to go to the arcade?”
“Nah,” Richie says, lying on his back, his face turned up to the sun. “I’m gonna get a tan.”
“You’re gonna get skin cancer,” Eddie says.
“But I’ll look good doing it.”
Eddie lies back down and closes his eyes against the sunlight. Whatever just happened between them hovers for only a few more minutes, long enough to seep into their bones to be dealt with later, and then it’s normal again.
+1 “So um guys, I’m gay,” Eddie says. There’s a stunned silence because Eddie just dropped this bomb out of nowhere in the middle of an impromptu slumber party at Bill’s.
“Oh, uh,” Bill says.
“That’s--” Mike begins.
“Thank you for telling us, Eddie,” Beverly says, and she smiles, and Eddie knows it’s OK with her, at least. He feels better for about three seconds.
Richie starts laughing helplessly, and Stanley punches him in the shoulder. Eddie looks stricken.
“Shut the fuck up, Richie, don’t laugh at him,” Ben says.
“No, wait,” Richie chokes out, still giggling.
“You got a problem with it?” Eddie asks, veering between wanting to fight and wanting to cry.
“What the fuck, Richie?” Stan says.
“Eddie, you’re our friend and we love you no matter what,” Mike says, and Bill and the others agree vehemently while Richie tries to get himself under control.
“No, listen, it’s funny because--”
“It’s not funny, Richie,” Bev shouts.
“No, listen, it’s very funny because I’m gay too--”
“What?” Eddie snaps.
“--and I was so worried about how to tell everyone and then Eds just--”
“Are you serious? ”
“--just fucking says it,” Richie says, holding onto his stomach. “And this whole time I’ve been like, 'Oh my god, does anyone know? Is it obvious? Are they gonna hate me?' And this motherfucker--”
“Wh-what the hell is ha-happening?” Bill asks.
“--he just”--more giggles--”we’re just sitting here playing MarioKart and--”
“Can you shut the fuck up for one second, please?” Eddie asks.
“--I was agonizing over it--”
Eddie grabs Richie by the arm and jerks him up and drags him out of the room. Richie’s still laughing, but also complaining about Eddie hurting him.
“Stop laughing, for god’s sake,” Eddie says, shoving him up against the pantry door, hard. It’s an arms fully extended, angry face, loud thump kind of shove.
“I’m sorry,” Richie says, but he lets out one more chuckle. “I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I didn’t mean to ruin your announcement.”
“Are you fucking with me?”
“No,” Richie answers, finally wiping that smile off his face.
“You’re really gay?”
“Yeah. Like, a lot,” Richie replies. He tucks an errant piece of hair behind Eddie’s ear.
“This isn’t a prank? You’re not doing a bit?”
“Eddie, I will suck your dick right now if that’s the proof you want,” Richie says.
“Jesus, Rich,” Eddie says, putting his forehead in his hand.
“I’m serious. Right here in the kitchen.”
“You’re not--you’re not gonna suck my dick in Bill’s kitchen,” Eddie says, flushing a bright red.
“Would you want me to?”
“Dude--”
“We could go somewhere else.” Richie’s smiling again.
“Stop, oh my god,” Eddie says. “You’re doing this on purpose.”
“Doing what?”
“I’m trying to have a conversation with you and you’re just. You’re being impossible right now.”
Richie grabs Eddie’s face between his hands. “Eddie. Beep beep for a second.”
Eddie tries to pull away, but Richie’s grip is firm. “Did you just beep me?”
“Eddie, I am very gay and have been in love with you for two years at least. That’s why I was laughing. It was keeping me awake at night, thinking you’d hate me for it.”
“You’re in love with me?” Eddie asks, his face still sandwiched between Richie’s hands.
“Yeah, dingus.”
Eddie looks away and licks his lips nervously, trying to figure out how to respond to that.
“You don’t have to say it back or feel the same way or anything,” Richie says. “I just wanted to tell you.”
“Oh.”
“OK?” Richie says, letting go. Eddie stares into his eyes, huge behind his glasses, deadly serious but soft as well.
“I’m in love with you too,” Eddie says suddenly.
“Bullshit, that’s insane,” Richie says reflexively.
“I am!”
“Seriously, why? You have awful taste,” Richie says.
“Don’t I know it,” Eddie says, leaning in slowly. Richie inches forward, bringing a hand up under Eddie’s chin to tilt it up so his mouth is in easy reach, meeting him in a gentle kiss. George walks into the kitchen five minutes later to find them sitting on the floor, Eddie in Richie’s lap, sucking on each other’s tongues.
“Get a room,” he says, taking a can of soda from the fridge.
“We had one before you showed up,” Richie says.
“Bill, your friends are kissing in here!” George shouts.
“We know, Georgie!” Bill yells back. “Just close your eyes, everything will be OK.”
“They’re blocking the pantry,” George yells, and Richie reluctantly shifts over so that George can open the door.
“I just wanted some chocolate pudding,” he says, “now I gotta deal with all this lovey dovey crap. You’re worse than Ben and Bev, my god.”
“You’ll feel different when you’re older,” Eddie says wisely.
“Will not. You’re all gross and kissing is for dorks,” George says, spoon in hand, leaving the kitchen.
“I liked you better when you hero-worshipped me,” Richie yells after him.
“Never happened.”
“You suck!”
“Sweet burn, Rich,” Eddie says.
“We’re gonna watch Airplane! if you guys are ready to rejoin the group,” Mike says from the other room.
“Your call, Eds,” Richie says.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
He stands up, offers his hand to Richie, and they reenter the living room.
“Anyway, I’m also gay, and we’re in love,” Richie says.
“Cool, congrats. Can you grab popcorn while you’re still up?” Stan asks.
“Nope,” Richie says, flopping down onto the couch, pulling Eddie with him.
“Typical. I have to do everything myself around here,” Stan grumbles, getting to his feet. He brings enough for everyone just as the movie starts.