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English
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Part 23 of IT Movies Fic-Palooza 2019
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Published:
2019-09-28
Words:
872
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1/1
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33
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what could happen

Summary:

In a split-second, Richie’s pulse quick-slows, his world rotating gently when Eddie turns them in the photo booth, crowding Richie. Eddie’s fingers burrowing into the soft, worn fabric of his tee.

Notes:

Requested by future.mrs.finn.wolfhard (FFN): "cute and fluffy (romantic, SFW) fic that has something to do with Richie and Eddie in that hammock." BEEN WAITING FOR A OPPORTUNITY TO USE THE HAMMOCK. Hope you like it! And everyone else likes it too! Any comments/thoughts appreciated!

((Want a request for IT? I'm doing 100-1000 word fics of any friendship or romantic ship + any prompt until I feel like quitting. Rules: you need to comment here and provide a friendship or romantic ship + prompt. You need to specify if you want SFW or NSFW (for 18+ readers only). Please check Full Rules. The only requests I'll be looking at is if you ALSO commented about the fic you read as well. It's only fair. You came to this fic to read it and me doing something for you later on is a sweet bonus!))

Work Text:

 

 

*

Richie has been in the arcade's photo booth a handful of times, but mostly with all of the Losers.

He and Eddie vault ahead, with bony, scabbed limbs and excitable chattering, piling in as their friends hang back and throw out their trash. Eddie's hand half-thrusting the curtain shut behind them. It's dark and humid inside. Gum stuck on the booth's walls.

In a split-second, Richie's pulse quick-slows, his world rotating gently on its axis when Eddie turns them in the booth, crowding Richie. Eddie's fingers burrowing into the soft, worn fabric of his tee. It feels like he's still turning, round and round, like one of those ultra-glowy romantic films. But it's not a pretty girl in front of Richie—it's Eddie, oddly pensive and with a bit of cabbage lodged between his front teeth, grinning in Richie's airspace. Their mouths opening together, Eddie's bottom lip grazing to his.

As soon as they hear Stanley's droning voice, Eddie steps away, grinning wider and letting go of Richie's tee. He faces Bill and Beverly jumping inside the photo-booth, complaining about slowpokes, like it never happened. Like they never kissed at all.

It's not the last time Richie tastes the surface of Eddie's lips, swollen-red and warm. The back-aisle of Costello's 24 hour marketplace. Mrs. Kaspbrak's entryway, by the coat-hanger, when she's upstairs hollering for Eddie to come to the attic. Beverly's room, sitting on her rug, waiting for her to come back with a box-carton of lemonade and her dad's rum.

He doesn't think Eddie wants anyone to know. Not even the Losers Club. That's fine by him, really. Richie doesn't wanna deal with any stupid, nasty gossip from assholes in their class—or worse, Stanley's inevitable 'told you so' and knowing jeers.

*

It's empty in the Clubhouse besides them.

Eddie climbs into the hammock after Richie, like a habit. They swing themselves, muttering and knocking each other's legs and feet, wriggling to get comfortable. Richie spaces out, looking over the colorful, printed pages of his The Mighty World of Marvel comic, his fingertips rubbing lightly over Eddie's bare calf.

He peers up, by chance, over the rims of his glasses. Eddie's own comic book looks mint condition.

"Where'd you get the limited edition?"

"Hmm?" Eddie hums, looking distracted. As soon as Richie's question sinks in, he brightens. "Oh, you know Jonathan Wheeler? The new kid from Indiana?" Richie stares over him, bemused, watching Eddie's dimples pop. "He let me borrow it."

"Oh…"

Richie's mood plummets. He pulls his fingers away from Eddie's leg.

"He's really nice. Jonathan's in our gym class," Eddie rambles on, going back to his comic. "I didn't know he had asthma too."

Yeah, Richie knows who he's talking about. A lanky, short kid. He's about Eddie's height, with light brown hair and freckles. Because of the kid's severe asthma—which, Eddie doesn't have—he sits out of dodgeball. Richie's seen him with Eddie before, talking and gesturing wildly, laughing across the gymnasium. It didn't bother him. Not really. But, now, Richie's tempted to accidentally chuck a bright red ball at Jonathan during their next game. Hit him right in the schnauze.

"If you like him so much, then maybe you should marry him," Richie says, mocking a high-pitched, singsong voice.

Eddie's features tighten.

"What the hell's your problem, Rich—hey!" Eddie cries out indignantly, flailing when Richie hauls Jonathan's comic book out of his hands, tossing it high. It flutters onto the dirt-covered ground. "You're an asswipe," he hisses, climbing out of the hammock.

Richie ignores him, glaring down at the dialogue-bubbles he's not reading.

Eddie picks up the fallen comic, stomping over and pushing the hammock until Richie careens out. In no time, Eddie's back in his original position, taking all of the room. The other boy lies flat on the wood-boards, dismally staring up. Richie's foot prods up against the bulge of the hammock above him.

"The fuck! Get your toe out of my butt!"

"Is that what that is?" Richie declares, his lips perking up. "I thought it was your face!"

Eddie scowls over the hammock-edge.

"If you're so pissed off about Jonathan… why not just say it…"

What feels like flames crawl up inside Richie's chest. "Fine!" he shouts. "I feel like an idiot! You babbling about him makes me feel like my insides are gonna shit out my ass!" Richie's frown deepening. "Ya happy, Eds!"

Instead of reacting back, Eddie studies him cautiously, his head hanging upside down. His dark bangs fluttering up.

"C'mere," he murmurs, and when Richie doesn't, Eddie leans out of the hammock further, slipping his palm over the back of Richie's neck to urge him up. Eddie's lips touch his. It's a weird and emotional upside-down kiss, but Richie feels a little better, tilting his head up. "It's kinda cute that you're mad," Eddie admits, smirking. "But in a dumbass way."

Richie sputters. "Cute!?"

He hops to his feet, tugging a groaning, reluctant Eddie up. Richie heaves him over his shoulder, feeling him kick lazily, spinning them a merry little circle until they're both woozy. "Cute, cute, cute!" Richie chants like a quarterback saying 'hut', laughing out.

Hearing Eddie laugh with him. That's how it's supposed to be.

*

 

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