#anyway i really hope we get to see or hear eddie talk about his childhood and hopefully his sisters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tripleaxeldiaz · 4 years

Text

you play, and everything else goes away

for @extasiswings <3

read on ao3

It’s all very familiar as he enters the store — the smell of wood and rosin, the instruments hanging on the walls, the snippets of music coming from the practice rooms along the back wall. There’s music playing from speakers behind the front desk too, a familiar piece that he’s forgotten the composer of. As he adjusts the case straps on his shoulders, watching a group of kids warm up in the corner, he’s suddenly nervous, anticipation rolling in his stomach like it did before his very first lesson.

Eddie didn’t start with the cello — every kid in the neighborhood was taking piano lessons, so his mother signed him and his sisters up too. Sophia was good, played through sophomore year, did a few solo and ensemble competitions. Adriana quit after a month so she could focus on dance. Eddie liked it fine, but he didn’t feel any passion for it. The keys felt too cold, too impersonal, and he couldn’t feel the music anywhere but in his hands, didn’t feel like he could control it.

His teacher must have noticed too, because she turned to him one day mid-lesson and asked, “Eddie, what do you really want to play?”

He’d thought about it, of course. He’d watched kids warm up and tune every instrument imaginable while waiting for lessons to start, but he always felt himself drawn to the strings. They were beautiful, looked elegant and commanding no matter who was playing them, and although they only had four strings, there were infinite notes that could be played, microtonalities and variations that the 88 keys of the piano just couldn’t replicate. Every violinist he watched seemed to put their whole body into their pieces, swaying as the music changed, bows ebbing and flowing. He told his teacher the simplified version of that and she nodded, leaving the room and coming back a few minutes later with two cases, one double the size of the other.

She handed him the violin first. Twisting his arm to hold it under his chin was awkward, and the shrill tone of the E string wasn’t something he was sure he wanted to listen to day in and day out. His teacher showed him some basic fingerings and helped him play a scale, but something still felt wrong.

The cello, though. As soon as he sat down with it securely between his knees, he knew this was different. Better. The tones were lower, warmer, and he could feel them in every inch of him, felt in command of the music he was playing. All he played was a D major scale, but it was enough to know this was it for him. His parents agreed, happy enough that he still wanted to play something, and bought him his own cello that same day. He was a little worried on the day of his first lesson that he wouldn’t love it as much as he hoped, but one hour and one sawed out version of “Hot Cross Buns” later, he was completely enamored.

He continued with lessons, joining his school’s orchestra in fifth grade, and Eddie continued falling in love with the cello, now learning how to love how it sounded as part of a whole rather than just a single instrument. Cello parts weren’t always the melody or particularly fun, but they supported the sound of the whole piece, enriching it, sometimes making it so intense he could feel the notes in his bones as he played. He was first chair by sophomore year, playing solos and in the chamber orchestra. He listened to the pieces his director recommended outside of school, and fell down rabbit holes of his own, finding particular comfort in the repetition and minimalism of Glass and Richter, in the picturesque melodies of Einaudi. By the time he was a senior, it was clear that he wouldn’t be able to play much if at all after graduation — his parents were pushing so hard for pre-med, the Army kept sending him letters about his potential as a recruit, and all the best music programs were out of state anyway, away from Shannon, from his family, everything he knew.

He packed up his cello after his orchestra’s senior concert, fully expecting to never touch it again, watch it gather dust in the corner of his childhood bedroom while the world moved on around it. It hurt Eddie deeply to leave this thing he loved so much behind, but he still had recordings to listen to, where he could close his eyes and pretend he was playing too, fingering along silently on his arm.

It wasn’t the same, but it would have to be enough.

But fast forward 15 years and here Eddie is, waiting for his new teacher to call him into their room, foot tapping with nervous energy. He sees a door open, a girl walking out with her case on her back, waving as she heads out of the store. A man maybe 10 years older than him sticks his head out.

“Edmundo?” he calls. Eddie walks over to the room, shutting the door behind him as they shake hands.

“Eddie is fine,” he says.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Steve,” Steve says, his smile warm and paternal. “I take it this isn’t your first rodeo?”

Eddie stops, bow in his hand frozen mid-rosin. He hadn’t even realized he had unpacked, it just...happened. Like muscle memory.

“It’s not,” he laughs, blushing lightly. “But it has been a while.”

“Well that’s okay, it’s never too late to start playing again,” Steve says as Eddie settles in the plastic chair, locking his endpin and placing it in the rock stop. “Do you have any music with you? I’d like to get an idea of where your technique is at right now.”

“I don’t, but I have a piece memorized I can play?”

Steve waves his hand out as he sits in the chair across from Eddie. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Eddie places the bow on the strings and takes a deep breath. It’s been ages, but it’s all so familiar that he’s not nervous anymore. The weight of the cello is comforting, like hugging an old friend, and he’s relaxed. Excited, even, to be back in this mindset that was an escape to him for so long. As he begins to play, the familiar arpeggios flow out of him like rain water, the bow gliding along with them. He closes his eyes and feels it, the slurs and scales, the crescendos and diminuendos, every rest, every string crossing. This was the first piece he ever memorized, the first one he ever played in front of people at a recital, and to know that it’s still so much a part of him, ingrained in his mind, makes him kind of want to cry.

He finishes, let’s the last chord linger, his eyes still closed. He knows it wasn’t perfect — he was flat in places, he missed a bowing change and was backwards for a few bars, and his fingertips started hurting toward the end, calluses no longer there to protect him. But none of that matters to him, really, because he’s back, back in this home he didn’t realize he had missed so much.

He opens his eyes as Steve claps softly, still smiling. “That was really great, Eddie. You have some things to brush up on, but you really are a natural. Shall we work through it from the top?”

He picks up his bow, heart close to bursting with happiness, and he starts again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie peaks through the crack in the curtain, scanning the audience for his family. He spots them — they’re kind of hard to miss, taking up the entire third row — and he feels his stomach drop, more nervous than he ever is running into a burning building.

It was their doing, really, his getting back into playing. Sophia had been in town and had dropped by the station one day, and everyone took full advantage of grilling her for childhood memories of Eddie. He hadn’t minded when she let slip that he played cello once upon a time, because he wasn’t ashamed of it. It just wasn’t something he talked about often because it still stung, even all these years later, remembering the feeling he used to get mastering a tricky fingering or learning a new piece, knowing he’d probably never have that same joy again. He didn’t really think anything of the way Buck’s eyes lit up when he said he wouldn’t mind taking lessons again, or the way he pulled everyone but Eddie aside in the weeks leading up to Christmas.

At their yearly gift exchange, Eddie had been presented with a huge, oddly wrapped package with a tag reading “To: our favorite musician, From: all of us”. His breath caught as he unwrapped it, revealing familiar, curved black plastic. He opened the case, tearing up at the sight of the used but clearly loved cello and a coupon for a year’s worth of lessons from a local teacher. He croaked out a “thank you” and was quickly enveloped in a group hug, feeling beyond grateful for these people that knew him so well and loved him so much.

He practiced as often as he could in between lessons and work and everything else. Sometimes he was alone, working through difficult passages with varying degrees of frustration. Sometimes Chris laid on the ground next to him doing homework, sometimes Buck sat on the couch and read, both listening intently, not caring when Eddie played the same four bars over and over and over to get them right. As annoying as it was, he never felt like giving up, like picking cello up again had been a mistake. If anything, it just made him work harder, in honor of 18 year old Eddie that had to leave his passion behind.

The audience claps as the pianist before him finishes. Eddie feels a hand on his shoulder, turns to see Steve behind him, holding his folder of music.

“You’ve worked hard this year, Eddie. You’re going to be great. And if not, that just means you have to keep practicing.”

Eddie nods, stomach still swirling. He and Steve walk on stage as his name is announced, and he hears Buck and Chimney’s unmistakable hollers. He sets up his chair and music stand in front of the piano, looking at the audience again. He can see everyone’s face clearly from here, all smiles, Bobby holding up his phone to record the performance. He catches Buck’s eye, who sends him a wink and a smile, and he’s ready.

He places his bow on the strings, nods to Steve, and he’s lost in the music almost immediately. It’s a melancholic piece, full of sorrow and intensity that fills Eddie as he plays. He picked this piece because it’s beautiful in it’s sadness and simplicity, and today, he plays it for all that he’s lost. For his Army friends, for Shannon, for his younger, more optimistic self. He mourns for them through his music in a way that he’s never been able to without it, and as it swells into the final melodic section, he swears he feels some weight lift off his soul.

He finishes, and there’s a breath before the audience applauds. It’s mostly polite, but the third row is on its feet, Athena passing Maddie a pack of tissues as they wipe their eyes. He smiles and bows before heading offstage with Steve, feeling giddy, the same we he always remembered feeling after a good performance. It didn’t matter that he missed a few notes or rushed a few bars — he made people feel something, and that was a better reward than perfection.

Another round of applause from his family greets him as he enters the lobby, Chris barreling into his legs, all smiles and congratulations. There’s hugs and pats on the back and flowers from Hen and Karen, and Eddie doesn’t know if he’ll stop smiling. As they leave, headed to a nearby restaurant to celebrate, Buck falls in step next to Eddie, tangles their fingers together.

“You were beautiful up there, Eds,” he says as he presses a kiss to the back of Eddie’s hand. “I’ve never seen you look so in your element.”

Eddie just smiles, kissing Buck’s cheek before tugging him toward the car, Chris already there, yelling at them to get a move on.

Because Buck’s right. On stage, playing music, he is in his element. Behind a cello, he’s home.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buddie fic #9-1-1 fic #9-1-1 fox #soft eddie rights #i'm probably gonna be crying about this forever #ficcery

66 notes · View notes

colour-outside-the-liness · 3 years

Note

Hi, there dear Colour! Hope you've been good! I've been thinking about what you said about Dani's love languages, and here's the thing: physical touch is definitely one of hers because of the restaurant scene where she's glued to Jamie and is stroking her thigh under the table. Also, the scene in their bedroom where she's watching an old movie and Jamie is reading a book and she does the legs thing. She's also like that with the kids and even Hannah. She holds Eddie's hand whilst breaking up with him to show him that she still cares about him deeply. She looks absolutely devastated when he pulls away.

However, I feel like Dani struggles a lot expressing her feelings and what's exactly going on in her head bc she's a people pleaser. This is probably bc of her shitty childhood (she talks about it with Miles on ep. 4) and having to be good all the time and agree to things to please others and say she's fine when she's not. And then there's the selfless trait that aggravates all of this even more. I can only remember three times (correct me if I'm wrong) where she conveyed her feelings candidly: first, when she's on the phone with her mom "it hurts me when you say that"; second, on the beast in the jungle speech; third, when she asks Jamie to marry her. She often talks refined for fear of rejection/conflict which really doesn't sit well with Jamie.

In the scene where Jamie goes back to work after days of not showing up and after their first kiss, Jay is not impressed at all by Dani's attempts of courtship bc she skirts around the issue and tries to act as if what happened didn't shatter their entire world. So when Jamie calls her out on it she finally acquiesces and tells her how she feels about it in an almost childish way "I don't like the way we left it". She's surprisingly inarticulate here, I don't think she prepared for that part at all. Feels like she prepared to do and say all the other things in that scene but this. She had articulated this whole plan to win the girl back but wasn't expecting to be dragged first thing in the morning lol.

My point is: words of affirmation as one of her love languages is not entirely accurate but it's also not wrong! Hear me out. I think she acquired this particular habit from Jamie. Jay can be quite blunt. It's not a lack of politeness or that's she's crude (except when she's trying to be funny haha). It's like she sees no point in trying to circumvent what she really wants to convey. She tells Dani several times throughout their relationship how she feels about her. Hell, she makes a little speech on bonfire night like, girl? Did she even try to be smooth? Haha. They hadn't even kissed yet! That entire episode she's trying to flirt with Dani with absolutely no reciprocity bc our girl is going through some shit, and Jamie is trying to understand really. Gets her alone to try and talk about what's troubling Dani. Then feels bad for kissing her bc she should know better than to chase after a vulnerable "straight girl" (also Dani's reaction to the kiss was pretty humiliating to her).

Anyway, Dani learns how to express herself better with Jamie and in turn, Jamie learns being easily intimate with someone doesn't mean they want something from her or that they're trying to fuck with her. And that's one of the incredibly magnificent things about their relationship right? The way they grow from each other and how well they complement one another. Do you think any of this makes sense? 😅 Haha. What do you think their other love languages are? I feel like people usually have at least two.

What are your plans for the weekend? Hope you have a good one!

Hey yeah I've been great thanks hope you have too!! I 100% agree that Dani has a love language of touch because were see her do so much of it in the show, always reaching out for people, or just looking for little signs of touch in any way she can with all of the people she cares about. Now when I say that Dani's other love language is words of affirmation what I mean by that is she loves to HEAR those things, not that she particularly does it to others. I feel like she constantly likes being told these amazing things because she didn't have much of that in her childhood and even as she got older with how her mother was with her. I think she responds so well to OTHER people saying nice things about her and she knows that's how they really care about her because she never heard much of it growing up with her dad dying and her mother being distant. The reason I say this again is because that's how my two love languages work. I am so much of a physical person and often reach out to people or hug them or anything- the other day at work one of my new work friends was crying and the first thing I did was pull her into a hug. I'm not much of a talker when it comes to feelings and would rather be there for someone hugging them or holding their hand or anything over talking... however... I do LOVE being told nice things about me when I am with someone or want comfort. Being told that someone is proud of me, or that I did a good job, or that I look nice or anything is so huge for me and I feel like maybe Dani responds the same way. To others she is way more physical but when it comes to herself I think she really loves being told these great things about her, especially from someone like Jamie. I totally agree with you that Jamie learns to be more intimate and Dani learns to be more open through being with each other. I am firm in my beliefs of Dani's love languages being physical touch and words of affirmation... for the reasons stated you're free to disagree obviously But I think Jamie's could be Quality time and ... I don't know about the other. I feel like quality time because she never really had that with anyone so to Jamie wanting to be around someone all the time is a true mark of how she feels about them and how they feel about her. We know she had a pretty lonely childhood and that she kept to herself a lot but I think when she truly loves someone she just wants to spend time with them like she did with Dani. I think quality time for Jamie is a huge one... but I don't know about the second one for her... what do you think? I am spending a little bit of the day tomorrow with one of my sister's her husband and their daughter (my niece that is a little mini me) and then on Sunday I am spending the day with one of my brother's his wife and their 4 kids so gonna be a pretty busy weekend but it'll be a good one... what about your plans for the weekend?

1 note · View note

oldguybones · 4 years

Note

Hello! I’m new here and just read the angst fwb prompt you wrote (which broke my heart btw) and was wondering if you would be willing to do a part 2 please?

Part One Found Here

Eddie hated weddings. Every single thing about them was a painstaking dance of misery. Being invited to one was bad enough, but he couldn’t imagine having to go through the grueling process of planning one. He liked to tell himself that he could understand why Richie had barely been a part of his life for the past year or so. That surely the only reason driving his absence was the fact that he now had a bride to answer to, an eager one at that who insisted his voice he heard throughout the wedding planning process. Eddie wasn’t sure if he bought it without some ulterior motive lurking behind true intentions.

But then again, Eddie hadn’t approved of Sandy since day one. All their mutual friends knew this. Richie himself did too. Eddie didn’t exactly keep it a secret and it definitely put a strain on their already strained relationship. It seemed like it had only been a matter of days; on Thursday, he kicked Richie out of his room after Richie had been happily buried inside him just a couple minutes prior. By Sunday, Richie had a new girlfriend. Dumped by his fuck buddy who caught feelings and then he immediately found a girlfriend.

Eddie tried to tell himself that it didn’t hurt. He tried to tell himself this was just how it was going to be. In the end, he told himself about a million different things, anything really to feel better about the whole situation. He could feel his stomach churning as his fingers shakily tied a knot in his tie. If anyone has any reason these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace. Over and over again, he practiced what he would say in response to that. He wasn’t sure he would ever find peace if he didn’t make his feelings known, more known than they already were anyways.

He grabbed his jacket off of the back of a nearby chair and shrugged it on. From head to toe, he was impeccable, not a single hair or thread out of place. Sandy had been insistent upon the combined look of their wedding party. Eddie scoffed at the idea that Richie didn’t even get to dress his own groomsmen and yet she was so concerned about his involvement in the wedding planning. Uh huh. Sure. Eddie couldn’t help the way his eyes rolled from merely just thinking about it.

The door behind him creaked open and someone stepped inside, closing the door behind them. Eddie looked up into the mirror to catch the reflection of whoever it was. His breath caught in his throat. Richie stood behind him, clad in the picturesque black and white tuxedo. His hair was greased back and out of his face, which was missing his token thick rimmed glasses, in favor of contacts.

He looked handsome. There was no denying that.

But he didn’t look like Richie. He didn’t look right and it made Eddie’s heart ache to pinpoint the parts of Richie that were missing, the little things that made him who he was. They were all dulled down into this respectable groom, about to be a respectable husband. This wasn’t right.

“Richie…” he began shakily, turning around to face Richie, even if it hurt like hell to do so.

“I know,” Richie agreed to whatever words he thought Eddie was about to say. He held his arms out to the side and did a slow turn, “I clean up good, don’t I?”

“You look great,” Eddie choked out, barely. His soft brown eyes were brimming with tears, and his throat ached with the effort to hold them back.

“Eds…” Richie whispered worriedly, taking a step to rush over to Eddie.

“No,” Eddie said firmly. His hand flew up to prevent Richie from coming any closer to him. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t bear to see this wrong version of Richie pledge his life away to a woman who wouldn’t even appreciate him for who he really was. “I can’t do this, Richie.”

“Do what?” Richie asked cluelessly, though the furrow of his brows revealed that maybe he wasn’t so clueless after all. Perhaps, above all else, it was suspicion.

“I thought I could do it,” Eddie continued, bringing his hands up to jam against his eyes in a harsh attempt to keep his tears at bay, “I thought being your groomsmen, supporting all of this, I thought it was the only way I could stay in your life. And even after you broke my heart, I still wanted that. I’d rather have you in my life and be miserable than say goodbye to you.”

“Eddie, where’s this all comin-” Richie tried to fit in his query but Eddie kept talking right over him.

“But I can’t!” He exclaimed, shaking his head. “I just can’t watch you marry someone who doesn’t appreciate you! Someone who doesn’t love you for every last, annoying piece of what makes you who you are!”

The room fell dangerously silent. After a moment, they could hear the commotion of the guests arriving at the venue and the hustle and bustle of the wedding they were both supposed to be a part of. It made the tension hanging in the air thicker, even more unbearable than it had been moments ago.

“You deserve that, Richie,” Eddie said in a quiet voice, finally though barely breaking the agonizing silence. “You deserve someone who loves you for who you are. You deserve someone who laughs at all your stupid jokes and listens to all of your ridiculous accents! You deserve someone who loves every last crazy curl of your hair and someone who doesn’t force you to wear contacts!”

Richie seemed to consider it for a moment, his brows wrinkling in confusion. “So, I’m just supposed to call off my wedding? Is that it?” he demanded, “Leave my fiance at the altar because you think she’s not good enough for me?”

Eddie’s lips parted in soft disbelief. For a few passing moments, he couldn’t find anything to say. He was stunned to hear such a tone coming from Richie, from his childhood best friend, who he always hoped would end up being his husband one day. But just like he couldn’t make the world stop turning, he couldn’t make Richie love him.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispered, closing his eyes and letting a few tears trickle down his cheeks. “I never should have done this. I should’ve just left it be. But I just can’t.” He took a step closer to Richie, testing the boundaries. “And I know this is so incredibly selfish. But I love you, Richie. Okay? I always have. I love every last piece of you and above all else, I just want you to be happy.”

More silence followed. Eddie contemplated walking out the door entirely; he couldn’t take much more of the loaded silence. It was beginning to worm its way into his psyche. He already knew this wasn’t going to end well, he didn’t need to wait and find out.

Right as he reached the door to leave, he felt a hand circle around his wrist and pull him backwards. Eddie stumbled a little, but spun around to face Richie. He hardly had any time to process it before Richie’s arm wrapped around his waist, pulled him in closer and then their lips were connected in a powerful kiss that threatened to buckle Eddie’s knees.

His hand came up to cradle the back of Richie’s neck, the other resting on the bicep of the arm Richie had wrapped around him. The kiss was firm, lasting only a few seconds but the sparks flying between them made it feel like a lifetime. This one, brief kiss thrilled Eddie more than the entirety of their friends with benefits situation ever had years ago. It took his breath away.

They pulled apart and pressed their foreheads together.

Eddie swallowed hard at the raw intimacy of the touch. It was everything he ever wanted in one soft, still moment. “What does this mean?” he whispered, unable to stop himself from ruining the moment with whatever definition he crazed so desperately.

“I don’t know,” Richie replied softly, the breath of his chuckle tickling Eddie’s lips. “I don’t know what this is or what it means. But I-I know that I always have the best time when I’m with you and I’ve missed you so much these past few years.” He brushed back a stray piece of hair out of Eddie’s face.

“I didn’t go anywhere.”

“I know,” Richie’s lips curved up into a smile. “I just-I missed the way we used to be. You, me, your college dorm. Those were some of the best years of my life, Eds.”

Eddie looked up at Richie with what he could only describe as heart eyes. The leftover tears shining in them lingered, now out of pure happiness. “Mine too,” he whispered, unable to help the wide grin that spread over his face.

It seemed to be contagious because Richie wore an identical one. “I don’t know where to go from here. But I’m really hoping you’ll go on the journey with me.”

“Could you be any cheesier?” Eddie questioned, throwing his head back with a laugh. As it trailed off, he stood on his tiptoes to kiss Richie again. Right before their lips touched, he whispered, “I love that about you.”

And, in the future, when they told their kids how they got together, the story would end with them trying to sneak out of a second story window and the subsequent ER trip that followed.

Taglist: @maximusfraker, @eds-kas, @iamworried7, @flix-net, @reddiesetandgo, @saturnsocoolioyep, @tinyarmedtrex, @bbyeds, @was-i-even-reddie, @its-stranger-than-you-think, @s-s-georgie @thelazyeye, @studpuffin, @stylesmelon, @xandertheundead. @eddiefuckinkaspbrak, @jem-carstairs-is-perfection, @constantreaderfool, @nancynwheeler, @purplepoisonedgem, @reddieobsessed, @reddieslashgeneralhorror, @kaspbrak-tozier-reddie, @ultrapaninibred, @sarafigueiredo13, @svnnyflwr, @lifesucksheres20bucks, @trashmouthtozierr, @rebecca-the-queen, @darkobsidianquill

#My Work #Reddie #Prompt Filled #Anonymous

106 notes · View notes

batty-writes · 3 years

Text

New Beginning

Status: One shot!

Main pairings: Barry Allen/Oliver Queen Minor pairings: Barry Allen & William Clayton Summary: Barry searches for his family after Crisis, but he finds much more.

Word Count: 2,220

Warnings: Crisis spoilers kind of.

Can be read on AO3 or under the cut.

The last thing Barry remembered was holding Oliver’s head up, Sara by his side as a new world was born. He didn’t know why he woke up in the crime lab. He immediately grabbed the nearest piece of paper and read it several times. Then his computer, he started flipping through files. Everything stayed the same. He looked down at his hands, counting his fingers. Ten. Okay. This was not a dream, he was really in CCPD, or at least what looked like it. He sighed and started to internally ask himself where he was. His first thought was his family. Iris, Wally, Joe, William. He needed to know where they were William and Jenna were. He didn’t want to have been involved in erasing anymore kids. He stood, and started to move downstairs. Unaware of where he was going to start. He ran to his loft, but it was empty. There was nothing, no furniture or anything. As he was running, he was forced to confront the fact that Oliver was dead, and he was dealing with that in his usually way; running. No matter what problems there were, there was always another problem to run to, a problem he could fix. So, he needed to know where his family was. He fell to his knees in the empty loft. Where was his home on this reality? What was happening ? “Barry!” he looked up through the large windows and saw Kara Danvers and J’onn J’onzz. Thank god he thought. After Kara explained what they had discovered, Barry decided he needed to find his family and make sure they were safe.

-------

When Barry rushed through the doors at the West house, he started calling names. “Joe? Iris?” he marched through the house. No matter what timeline or earth he’d explored the West house was the same. He was greeted by Eddie Thawne. He popped his head out of the kitchen with a grin. “Hey, Barry! Are you here to see Iris? She just went out.” Barry reached out and clapped Eddie on the shoulder, to make sure he was real and not part of the speed force, but played if off as a friendly greeting. “Eddie! I was looking for you and Iris. Where is she?” It wasn’t exactly a lie, not by any means. Eddie was his family, he just … wasn’t aware that Eddie was a family member he should be looking for.

Eddie crossed his arms, seeming to not believe that. “She’s at your house. She said she was specifically craving Oliver’s cooking.” Barry stared at him. “Which one?” he tried to laugh it off slightly with a joke. Eddie crossed his arms. “What happened in 2014 that prompted me to punch Barry in the face?” He asked seriously. “I … tried to get Iris to be with me.” he coughed awkwardly, hoping that was the last identity conforming questions. “Listen, Eddie, it’s me, some stuff just happened. It’s very important that I make sure Jenna and everyone is safe. We-- we lost someone in this crisis.” He needed Eddie to know how dire the situation was.

“Barry … I’m so sorry.” he squeezed Barry’s arm sympathetically but he also could tell the current situation was urgent. “Joe and Cecile moved up north with Wally a few months ago. They’re all there with Jenna. You should check home for everyone else. Your old childhood home.”

Barry nodded. “Thank you.” and he was gone before Eddie could fully process the words.

When Barry arrived at home, he didn’t waste any time. He rushed in through the front door. Stopping only to look around, when he saw William in the living room, he got to him with the aid of the speed force. He hadn’t the slightest idea why William was in his living room, but he would take over him having been somehow harmed or erased in the crisis.

Barry lowered himself closer to William’s height in relief, letting out the breath he’d been holding. “Are you okay?” He started to fuss over him, looking for injuries before looking at his face. “Will, are you hurt?” he was looking him in the face now. Willaim wrinkled his nose. “I’m fine, Papa, gosh. You always get so worried.” he rolled his eyes.

Papa . Barry stopped for a moment. He and Oliver had always been … but he wasn’t this involved with Oliver when everything happened. Not that be didn't welcome it, he did have a good relationship with Wiliam. He adored him.

He wasn’t sure how this would have changed. He hugged William tightly, kissing the top of his head. “Yeah … I’m sorry. Some stuff happened today, and I was scared that you were caught up in it.”

“Dad!” William called. “Papa took out a big bad today!”

Iris and Oliver appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Why didn’t you call me?” he had a hot pan in his hand, which he quickly realised and moved back to put it back on the stove. Barry slowly let go of William and crossed the house into the kitchen. He hugged Iris, who was significantly pregnant. “Congratulations again. Can I talk to my -- can I talk to Oliver for a moment?” he swallowed thickly.

To Iris, Barry looked like someone died, she made a face at his congratulations , but let it roll off given the circumstances. She kissed him on the cheek. “Yeah, Barr,” she said softly and stepped out of the room. Barry could hear her talking to William in the other room, but was unable to make out what they were saying. Barry stared at Oliver for a few seconds. “Ollie,” his voice was soft, “We’re married?” he expected Oliver to remember the crisis, as he and Kara, and J’onn had, but apparently he did not. “Barry, what happened to you today?” his voice was serious. In the same way he always said I’m here for you over the years. He turned off the stove, and put an arm around Barry. Something washed over Barry then; a sense of safety. It was like, maybe this all really was over. Maybe Oliver had created the world, and gotten to live in it. He finds himself pressing into Ollie. “You don’t remember it at all?” he whispered. “None of it?”

Oliver’s touch shifted and his other arm wrapped around him when Barry started to feel heavier against him. “Hey, what should I remember? What happened?”

Barry remembered their final moments face to face so clearly, the brief time they had alone spent much like this; holding each other. Even with Oliver in his new Spetre form, he was solid enough for Barry to hold him.

He’d insisted they would make it out if they worked together like they always had. Oliver wasn’t so sure. Then, even though they knew they didn’t have time for regrets, but they expressed those anyway.

“You were dead. Dig tried to get your soul from purgatory but you wouldn’t go, then you … became something else, but still you.” Barry pressed his face against Oliver’s neck, confronted his familiar scent, he began to settle more. Though it seemed to be. When Oliver was Spectre, it was different and he felt different to Barry … this was all Oliver. This is what Oliver Queen felt like under his touch, and how he smelled, it was his voice. So maybe in the birth of the new earth, Oliver really had been untouched by the crisis in the other universe, or whatever they would have to refer to this as. “I think you know by now that I don’t give up that easy.”

The tears crashed through then. “It was so bad, Ollie, all the earths died. There isn’t a multiverse anymore. We don’t know who’s dead, or who’s just forgotten.”

“There was … a multiverse?” Oliver was silent after that, just holding Barry close to him. Barry was sure that Oliver was imagining what Barry and the other heroes had been going through in the current crisis. Barry nodded slowly. “Yeah.” his eyes fell closed for a second before he pulled out of Oliver’s arms. He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening now, what they would face in the future, but they could face it together. Oliver let Barry pull away but was watching him with concern. “Okay,” he said softly. “We’ll figure this out. We always do.” “Tell me about when we got married.” Barry just wanted to breathe for a second. J’onn would be there soon to fill Iris in he was sure, and then he would realise Oliver didn’t remember. “Please.”

Barry allowed Oliver to comfort him for the moment, gently rubbing his arms. “Okay, Barry.” His voice was soft. “We got married in twenty-seventeen.” He kissed Barry’s temple, gently. “Do you want me to get the pictures?” “There’s pictures?” he knew first hand that proper weddings were few and far between in this super-life, so the fact that they had a wedding photo surprised him. Oliver smiled a little, his eyes crinkling around the edges. “Yeah, hold on.” he headed out of the room, returning in a few seconds with a framed photo. It wasn’t exactly what Barry imagine when Oliver said a wedding picture … but it was perfect. The photo was a bit of a wide shot, Ray standing between them. William was standing with Oliver, and Iris with Barry. Barry was in his Flash suit, and Oliver still wore his own. There were other members of the teams in the photo as well. “I take it, we just took the chance?” Barry offered with a small laugh. “Yeah, we were cooped up on the ship after a mission shortly after I got custody of William.” He watched as Barry looked at the photo one more time before he set it on the counter and pulled Oliver into a soft kiss. “Why weren’t we married in the other earth?” he seemed hesitant about asking. Barry sighed and pulled back. “Because,” he crossed his arms. “We were idiots.” “Care to elaborate?” Oliver pressed, a small smile playing on his lips. Barry stared at the floor for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain their situation. “I loved you, and you loved me.” he figured he would have to say that much. “Everyone knew, William knew, hell I’m pretty sure Gideon knew and she’s an AI. We were … kind of together but we didn’t get our heads out of our asses until we were drugged by Team Flash and locked in a cell together. At one point during all that, you said if we survived you would marry me but ...” Tears welled up in Barry’s eyes again as he was hit with everything. “Then you died fighting in this crisis. I didn’t know I would get to come home to you, Ollie.”

“I’m sorry I don’t remember, but we’ll face whatever comes next together, like we always have.” you he paused for a moment. “Wait, so you don’t know about the girls?”

“The girls?” Barry was turned around by both of Oliver’s strong hands.

Oliver pointed to the sonograms on the fridge, over his shoulder. “Nora and Mia Allen. You broke me down, and Iris was more than happy to be our surrogate.” “How did I do that?” Barry touched the hand on his shoulder

Oliver kissed the back of Barry's head. "You sent me Flash onesies and I cried." It was obvious that Oliver was half joking, but Barry felt … better about the reality ahead.

A voice broke apart their moment. “I see you’ve located Oliver.” J’onn stood in the doorway. He was wearing his human face, most likely in worry of making Iris and William feel ill at ease, or someone being in the house that didn’t know just how different their friends were.

“Yeah.” Barry shook his head, trying to recover from the information overload. At least it was good. There was a home here, with Oliver, where he was alive. “Oliver doesn’t remember the crisis though.”

J’onn stepped forward. “I’ll give him your memories of the crisis.”

“Wait.” Barry moved in front of Oliver. “Maybe he doesn’t need to remember you know … dying.”

Oliver squeezed Barry’s shoulder. “No, it’s okay. Show me.” his voice level.

J’onn carefully pressed two fingers to Oliver’s temple. A light shone through and Oliver winced. His hand gripped Barry’s shoulder in a different way and he was leaning heavily on Barry now. J’onn couldn’t pick and choose what he gave him, so Oliver was being overloaded with all of Barry’s memories of Oliver, not just the crisis. All at once, in one split second. He inhaled sharply and nodded. “Okay, so what’s the next step?” he asked seriously, already in fight mode. Just like Oliver. “We should touch base,” J’onn started. “There is a lot to discuss now that we all seem to be of the same earth …” he reached out and touched both their heads. “but for now, we should all rest.”

Barry was flooded with the missing pieces from this new world from Oliver. Some were good, and some were bad, some were worse, but they were there, and this world was theirs and Barry loved every piece of it. He was ready to move forward and continue fighting by Oliver’s side for as long as they could.

#olivarry #barry allen/oliver queen #barry allen x oliver queen #oliver queen/barry allen #oliver queen x barry allen

4 notes · View notes

gayedmundo · 5 years

Text

a missing eddie scene from it chapter two

One moment Richie was right next to him, running through the tunnels and towards whatever the next horror this stupid clown had waiting for them, and the next moment he was alone.

His surroundings are new. When he looks behind him, he can still see the tunnels that they had been running through, but then it transitions into a room. It’s still dark and ominous, but significantly less cave-like. The only way out is to go back the way he came. He doesn’t see any separate path that Richie could’ve taken to explain his absence.

“Richie?” He yells out, hesitantly, “Richie, man, where did you go? This is so not the time to fuck around, asshole. If you’re planning to jump out at me, I will stab you with this fence post, I hope you know that.”

Suddenly a familiar voice comes from the dark behind him, making him jump.

“Oh, Eddie, there you are!”

It’s his wife. She’s shivering and drenched in water and dressed far too nicely for a walk through the sewers.

“Myra? What are you- what are you doing here?” He figures it must be a trap. This is what It does, he knows that. But still... she looks so real.

“I’m here to help you, Eddie. You just ran out on me without an explanation, I was so worried about you! This is too dangerous for you, we both know that. Come with me, Eddie-bear, please. We can go home and pretend like none of this happened. If you stay, you’ll get hurt.” She’s sobbing, predictably.

He shakes his head and backs away from her, “No, you can’t be here. I- You’re not real.”

“What? Of course I am. Honey, you’re not thinking straight.” She walks closer towards him and reaches her hand out to stroke his face but he flinches away from her touch. She sobs again and puts her hand over her mouth in horror. “What are these friends of your’s putting in your head? I mean look at you, you’re covered in sewer water! You’re hurt! Eddie, that’s gonna get infected! You’re so dirty!”

He’s shaking his head and looking away, trying to convince himself that she’s not real while she speaks but he notices a change in her voice when she says the last word. The tone goes from worried and panicked to accusatory and mocking. Slowly, he looks back at her.

Except his wife is no longer there. Standing in her place is his mother, the way she looked before she got sick. Despite the fact that by the time he stopped growing, he was slightly taller than her, she seems to tower over him. He realizes that the dark room they’re standing in has taken the shape of the living room in his childhood home.

“Dirty. That’s what you are. That’s what you’ve always been. You’re friends just make it worse. Especially that Tozier boy. He’s the dirtiest of them all and I think he’s been a bad influence on you. Made you sick like him.”

“That’s not true, don’t talk about him like that that’s not true!” He’s starting to wish he hadn’t burned his inhaler.

She’s sneering at him. His mother would get like this sometimes when she was in particularly bad moods, but it was rare. She usually preferred for her methods of manipulation to be more subtle. Guilt-tripping was her favorite. But as a teenager, he started to grow used to the way she would use her tears as a weapon and some days he refused to let them work on him. That’s when she got mean. He learned that maybe the tears were the better option.

“Yes, it is, Eddie-bear! You just can’t see what he’s done to you.” She switches to her worried voice, as she so often would after she got mean. It was all because she was worried, she didn’t mean it, she always promised. He was foolish enough to believe her more times than he’s proud of.

“That’s why you need your mother to protect you, to keep you from getting sicker than you already are. You think any of those friends of yours will want to touch you when they know what sickness you actually have?”

“Shut up!” He yells out, louder than he was expecting. His heart is pounding harder than before. He wants to curl up into himself and close his eyes until she goes away, but something makes him stay strong.

You’re braver than you think.

“Eddie... how could you talk to your mother like that? I love you and this is how you treat me? I always said you would leave me and I was right! You don’t deserve all I do for you!”

A part of him wants to apologize. He knows she’s not real but there’s still a reflex in him to stop and comfort her, assure her that he loves her too and tell her that he appreciates everything she’s done for him. And god, if that isn’t the most fucked up, backwards feeling.

“You’re right! I don’t deserve it. I never did.” She flinches back. The sight makes him gain more confidence.

“You manipulated me, you lied to me, and I.... I didn’t deserve it! You told me I was sick, dirty, tainted, made me feel weak, and the worst thing about it is that I believed you! But the truth is, I’m not. I know I’m capable of being brave.”

With every word, he feels like a weight he didn’t even know existed was being lifted off of his chest. He never got to say all of this to her before she died, he never even let himself think it most days, and he felt guilty when he did. But getting to say it now felt freeing, whether she was real or not.

“Eddie, please-“

“No, you’ve said enough. I loved you, Ma, I did. In your weird, fucked up way, I know you loved me too and maybe you genuinely did think you were doing what was right for me. But I’m so, so tired of your voice controlling how I think of myself. I’m tired of hearing your voice in my wife’s mouth! I’m tired of feeling like who I am, who I really am, is wrong because of the shit you told me as a kid. I’m tired of the look you would give me every time I would hang out with Richie. I’m tired of my skin crawling when I stare at him for too long. I’m tired of feeling like I need to take a shower after touching his skin. I’m tired of the guilt I feel when I realize I want to touch him again anyway. So I’m not gonna let you control me from the grave and I’m not gonna run from myself anymore, I’m gay!”

He pauses for a moment, taking in what he just admitted. What he had barely been able to admit to himself before.

“Holy shit. I’m gay. Yeah.” And then he laughs. It’s a little hysterical, but more than anything he feels relieved. He said it. He’s gay, and that doesn’t make him sick.

But then his mother’s frown turns into a wicked smile, and when she bares her teeth, they’re sharp. Her features slowly become more horrific, and he watches in terror until she, or It, lunges at him.

His body reacts before his mind and the next thing he knows, he’s yanking the fence post out of the chest of the nightmare version of his mother. The room changes back to the damp tunnel walls. It stumbles back and then vanishes down one of the other tunnels.

He stands there alone for another moment to process what just happened. Despite everything, he smiles to himself. What does it say about you if facing off with a shape-shifting demon could be one of the most cathartic moments of your life?

Snapping back to himself, he grips onto the fence post again and heads in the other direction to find Richie again. Which reminds him, he still has one other important thing he needs to get off his chest. But first, it’s time to kill that fucking clown once and for all.

#eddie kaspbrak #reddie #it chapter two #it films #reddie fic #i mean kinda its mostly eddie idk how else to tag it tho lol #my writing #long post #if the read more doesnt work i guess #reblogs are much appreciated

317 notes · View notes

reddie-fangirl24 · 4 years

Text

Eddie, The Patient Chapter 3 (A Reddie Fanfiction)

Link to Chapter 1

Link to Chapter 2

“It’s an improv line ‘cause the first time I ever used ‘I forgot the joke’ well, you see, I actually forgot the joke and to save myself I said that I was kidding and kept going with my routine! Some audience members gave me a hard time, but it turns out that I fooled them and then they actually wrote to me apologizing!”

“That’s a funny story, Mr. Tozier,” the host laughed with him. Then she turned and looked into the camera. “We’re going to take a break now, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll be back with a Day in the Life of Comedians.”

Standing up, and taking a breath, Richie stepped away from the set. No matter what, all those studio lights felt like a thousand degrees! Richie shook hands with his contender, Jack. Tonight they’d be battling off left and right with jokes. And this show interview they were filming would air in a week or so.

“Great job, Rich!” His manager, Steve gave him a pat on the back. “Except, I thought we were talking about not bringing that story up.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “So, what’s it gonna do? I’m just trying to show the real me!”

“Yes, and I agree, but I’m afraid that sharing the ‘I forgot the joke’ story could mean that you stumble your routines. You want big audiences out there don’t you, Rich?”

“Steve, just let me handle things, please? Remember what I said? And writing some of my own material has been working!” Richie walked off in a huff. Grabbing a glass of water that a stagehand offered to him, Richie walked outside for some needed air, and to wipe to the sweat off.

Ever since he told his boss that he was going to start writing his own material for shows, he felt as if his career was going in a better direction than it ever was. Eddie was right. He just needed that extra ounce of confidence that he lost.

Thinking ahead to tonight, the crowd was still building up. Not only was he doing the comedy show with Jack, but another comedian who has been all around the world with her act. And she even called out Richie once! Oh, time for some good old revenge burn.

Feeling his phone buzzing in his pocket, Richie could only guess that it was Steve calling him back to rehearsal. Couldn’t he get a moment’s peace?

But it wasn’t Steve.

No name. Just numbers. But it was coming from right here in L.A.

Gulping, Richie flashed back to the moment where he got the call from Mike Hanlon. The call that changed his life making him step back into the nightmare from his childhood. Then again, he had to admit, that the battle changed everything for the better.

Feeling his heart pounding, and his stomach nervously grumbled from his nerves, Richie took a deep breath. This always happened to him when a wrong number called. If it was a wrong number.

Taking a deep breath, Richie answered the call. “H-Hello?”

“Hello, is this Mr. Richard Tozier?” A woman asked him.

What was this, a prank call? Nobody ever called him by his full name. “Uh, yeah, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier at your service!” Richie went with his usual intro to break some of his lingering nerves.

“Yes, hello, this is Ruth Alliston, the principal of Hathaway Middle School,” the woman’s voice said. “I’m calling to inform you that your husband is sick and I was wondering if you could come and take him home. I tried calling a couple of your mutual friends, but I couldn’t get a hold of them.”

His heart throbbing, Richie grasped the railing holding himself up. He accidentally knocked the glass of water off the railing, sending it smashing to the ground. Not once since Eddie started his teaching job did they ever call him for something like this. Did he just hear her right? Eddie. His Eddie? Sick?

“Wait, wait, hold on! What do you mean you called other mutuals? You’re supposed to call me first, damn it!” Richie snapped at her, clutching at his phone.

The woman sighed, obviously sounding frazzled. “I’m sorry, Mr. Tozier, but Eddie gave my specific instruction not to call you. Once I couldn’t get a hold of um,” she paused, turning pages. “Mr. and Mrs. Denbrough I knew that I had no choice but to call you. Oh, he’s very sick with a fever of over one hundred and needs to be taken home.”

Clawing at his hair, Richie mumbled to himself pacing the fire escape. Why was he always out here when got news like this? Of course. Of course, Eddie had to act like he was fine. You should have said something, man! “Um, yeah, you got it. I’ll be there.”

“Oh, wonderful, thank you, sir.” Mrs. Alliston sounded relieved. “Not to worry, he’s asleep right now. The worst seems to have passed.”

The worst? “Thanks, see you later,” Richie said as smoothly as he could. Hanging up the phone, Richie hurried back inside. Goddamn it, Eddie! Of course, you had to act like you were fine! You should have said something, man!

“Rich, where have you been? We’re going to start up again in five minutes!” Steve chewed him out, placing a hand on his shoulder, as he tried to keep up with Richie’s fast pace.

“Steve, I have to go!” Richie protested, hurriedly walking to the elevator.

“Go? Go where? We’re in the middle of taping an interview!” Steve argued with him, gesturing to the set. Jack overheard the situation and turned and looked at them in worry.

“It’s an emergency!” Richie said, pressing the elevator button furiously.

“Can you tell me? Are we going to have to reschedule everything?” Steve prodded him.

Richie nodded feverishly, watching the floor numbers change. Why were elevators so slow when you needed them? “Yeah, let’s do that. I need to get over to Hathaway Middle School now! Eddie is sick!”

For a moment, Steve didn’t say anything. He noticed that Steve wasn’t that fond of Eddie whenever he was around. Still, he did his best to make polite conversation. “Right. How are you going to get over there? Barry is not available for the rest of the morning.”

Shit! How else was he supposed to get over to the school? It would take at least an hour on foot. And he had to figure out a way to get Eddie home without making him sicker.

“Can I call you a taxi?” Steve suggested.

Of course! He felt so out of it that he couldn’t think straight. That was when the elevator door opened. “Yeah, thanks!” Richie smiled, despite himself, as he entered the crowded elevator. Ugh, somebody had stinky pits today.

“Rich, call me with an update! You should be back here by 5:00 tonight!” Steve called out to him just as the elevator doors closed.

Waiting out by the curb and listening to the busy traffic, Richie took a moment to breathe and get his thoughts together. How could he let something like this happen? Besides the distraction with the car, did he really let the excitement of work get in the way? That was so stupid of him! Eddie was way more important!

He knew something wasn’t right about Eddie’s behavior, but what did he do? Drive off. How could he ever ignore him like that? How could he... forget to think about Eddie? No wonder Eddie was acting so strangely. The uneaten bowl of cereal, barely saying a word and struggling to do a simple task like walking.

Smiling, Richie couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Eddie had always been an extreme germaphobe. Back when they were students, Eddie washed down every desk before sitting in them during the flu season.

Richie even reminded him about kids getting sick easily when he was studying to become a teacher. Eddie rubbed it off like it was nothing, saying that he was full of bologna. After the first three weeks of teaching, Eddie was complaining about the number of students who were sick with colds. It was funny. But, not now.

He was just hoping that this wasn’t too serious. Whenever Eddie was sick, or he himself, they’d snuggle together. Eddie was always so doting, dropping everything to take care of him. That was the best. He could only guess how much of a helicopter husband he must have been when Eddie had the slightest cold. It was out of love anyway.

In that instant, Richie felt a sting in his gut, realizing how little time they’d spent together as of recently. When was the last time they took a walk around the neighborhood? Or went out for a drink? Or even just stayed inside watching TV? It felt like the only time they ever spent together was cuddling up when they went to bed at night. Only they were asleep.

Whenever he had nights off, they went to the movies. Sometimes they were the loudest in the theater because they loved to laugh and argue over their own commentary of the film.

And to think we used to spend a few times a week making love... when was the last time we did that?!

It was tough working around his schedule. He worked at night while Eddie worked during the day. Even weekends didn’t supply them with enough time together. Now, he felt lucky that he wasn’t away on a trip. Then what would have happened?

Richie slid a hand over his face, looking up towards the peaceful sky. To think it wasn’t even noon. Oh well, there was no used dwelling over it all now. Eddie needed him.

Finally, the taxi pulled up and Richie got into the back seat in a hurry.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” The cab driver roared with a smile. His little mustache creased along his upper lip whenever he smiled. “I never thought I’d be hauling Richie Tozier in the back of my taxi! I have to get a picture and frame it!”

“Yeah, later, man! I need to get over to Hathaway Middle school, now!” Richie ordered, waving him off.

“Sure, do the kids want your autograph?” The driver pulled out into the road. Traffic was bad already. Cars honking. The light turning red at the wrong moment. It was never like this.

Richie nervously sat forward, thumping his hand on the seat, unable to relax. “I wish! It’s my h-husband, Eddie. He’s sick. And guess whose car decided to that it didn’t wanna work properly today? Did you guess me? Good for you, you won a ride with me!” Richie joked, pointing at himself.

Of course, he had to stumble over that word. He still wasn’t used to being out to the public, having ignored and feared to be gay for decades. His announcement had some negative feedback, but he felt happier than he ever did before. Especially with Eddie.

“Oh man, poor guy. The flu is terrible at this time of year. You’re a good husband, you know that?” The cab driver complimented turning back to look at him. “I remember when I showed up to work sick once, I worked in an auto place, and then my wife showed up telling me, ‘I told you so!’”

Richie laughed along, half embarrassed. He took a deep breath through his nose. “Yeah, I’m the man, what can I say?”

The cab driver laughed heartily. “I’ll have you over to the school as soon as I can.”

While making small conversation and jokes with the cab driver, whose name was Harry, the ride felt long. Too long. Why were there so many red lights today? And did people forget how to cross the street? Richie wanted to beep the horn to get this guy who was staring at his cell phone to pay attention.

Guilt hammered itself into Richie’s heart. Looking out at the passing city, Richie tried to take his mind off everything, to no avail. Don’t worry, Eds, I’m on my way.

And finally, the cab showed up at the school. Before the car even stopped, Richie threw open the door, running out. “Hey, thanks, sorry for being impatient. I wish I could give you that picture, but I don’t have time!”

“Do you want me to wait for you?” The cab driver asked him.

Richie blinked, turning back in his tracks. “Uh... I could be a while.”

“I’m used to waiting,” he said sincerely. “Don’t you think it’ll be tough trying to get another taxi? It’ll be the lunch run in a bit.”

That’s right! Guess he never turned his brain on this morning. “If that’s alright with you, I’ll be right back!” Richie said as he flung up the staircase to the school like a rabbit.

Entering the school, Richie hadn’t roamed school hallways since he graduated from high school. Richie cringed at the thought of being back in another middle school. If it weren’t for his friends, he would never have gotten through school. He bet his dad that he could get a career out of being a comedian without going to college. Richie was still swimming in that money.

Finding the office, the instant the secretary noticed him, she almost fell out of her seat, adjusting her eyeglasses. “Richie Tozier! I was not expecting you today! My son is a big fan!” she chirped as her cheeks grew red.

Richie smirked, winking at her, obviously enjoying the attention. Still, he had to stay focused. “Wish I could be here for better circumstances. I need to take Eddie home.”

The secretary’s face immediately softened, cracking into a heartbreaking sad frown. “Oh, the poor guy. He looked as pale as a ghost when Mrs. Alliston brought him back here. I sure hope he is going to be okay. He is a sweetheart.”

Although his heart cracked at the awful thought of Eddie’s condition, Richie leaned against the counter trying to make the secretary smiled. “You got that right! Except when he’s cranky. Some mornings he is a real joy to wake up to because he tells me that I snore!”

Laughing, the secretary paged the principal. “Okay, I’ll send him back. Go on, Ruth is waiting for you,” she said getting up from her seat and opening the door to the main office.

Richie went on his way, winking at her again. “Thanks. Oh, and I own you an autograph!”

Walking into the back office, Richie met the principal, who stepped out from her office with a wide grin happily shaking his hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Tozier. Eddie has talked a lot about you.”

“Oh yeah, I hope it’s all good things!” Richie teased.

“Don’t worry. He loves talking about you. Don’t tell him I said this but sometimes the way he talks about you makes me think of him like a school girl! It’s quite amusing!”

Crossing his fingers, Richie was just seconds away from bursting into laughter. Definitely worth a save for teasing which was basically all they did. “So, where is he anyway?”

Her face turned back to worry, leading Richie down a small corridor of the office. “He’s asleep in the nurse’s office. The poor thing, when I went to put his belongings on a chair next to the bed he didn’t even stir.”

Guilt-ridden, Richie almost stumbled into a wall. “Jeez...”

“He’s in here,” she said indicating to a room with the lights out. “His belongings are on a chair next to the bed. If I’m right, the poor dear is still asleep. You’re going to have to wake him up.”

Richie waved it off like it was nothing. “Even if I tiptoe it wakes him up and he lectures me!” He snickered.

Mrs. Alliston laughed as she walked away. “Eddie is right. You are a card!”

“A real comedian, I am!” Richie joked as his hand fell on the door. He gingerly turned the knob and slowly opened the door. The room was dark, with the only source of light protruding from the covered windows. Once his eyes adjusted, it took a moment to find the bed. Once he did, Richie came across the small, thin form of his husband sleeping soundly on the nurse’s bed in the corner of the room, with a trash can pulled up near the bed.

Feeling his heart drop into his stomach, his legs shaking, Richie exhaled and came into the room, closing the door just a smidge. Sure enough, Eddie was fast asleep, hardly making a noise. If it weren’t for the minute rise and fall from his chest, Eddie would have looked...

No... he couldn’t think that.

Richie quietly walked into the room, and slowly sat down on the bad. Eddie hardly stirred, sleeping peacefully. For a little bit, Richie sat there, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, letting him sleep a few more minutes. That gave him the time to study how sick he was. Even in this dim lighting, he could tell how sickly pale Eddie was.

For a moment he thought that he was back in the hospital, holding Eddie’s frail hand when the doctors notified them how they weren’t sure if Eddie would make it through the night. But, Eddie showed who was stronger.

Thinking back to the call, the realization that Eddie was sick and the fact that he didn’t even want to call him first Richie’s grip tightened. Richie couldn’t blame him. Eddie felt himself like he was a burden due to the years of being berated about every little thing he did.

Oh, course he wouldn’t tell me. He thinks that vain in my head would pop!

Leaning down, Richie kissed his forehead, tasting the sweat rolling down his warm pale face. The worry and guilt set in even further, causing his grip to tighten. He had to get Eddie home now.

“And you thought I wouldn’t come help you, huh? Man, you’re crazy!” he whispered in a loud voice to his sleeping husband as he prepared to wake him up.

#Reddie #Reddie Fanfiction #IT Fanfiction #IT Movie #Richie Tozier #Eddie Kaspbrak #sick fic #cab #It 2017 #IT Stephen King #It Chapter 2

52 notes · View notes

valiantgentle · 4 years

Text

HOUSE OF TALK. an ashley adams one-shot. c. touch of fear, multiple chapters.

─ jerome talks about ashley with different people, including his father, poppy, and eddie.

( — chapters three and four. )

Barely three days into the new term and already Jerome was being blackmailed by his devil incarnate little sister. There was a reason why he didn’t want anyone to know she existed and now she was blackmailing him in order to keep her existence a secret (from everyone except Ashley, apparently, who met her by accident and was now keeping the secret as well).

“I said six.”

“That’s all they had in the shop,” Jerome retorted, gesturing to the five chocolate bars he’d just given Poppy—one of her requirements for keeping the secret. “Why do you need so many?”

“To make friends and influence people,” Poppy replied, just like a Clarke. “This stuff is like currency on the inside.”

“This isn’t Alcatraz.”

“Oh, and I want half your allowance,” Poppy added. This was one of those times Jerome regretted teaching her his tricks. He looked at her incredulously and she continued, “Unless you want me to blow the whistle. Remember that I’m not the only secret I’m keeping for you, Gerbil.”

That other secret? Not exactly a secret at all. Poppy was also blackmailing him about his feelings for Ashley, which she figured out over the holiday when she stole his phone. But what Poppy didn’t know was that her telling Ashley wouldn’t do anything, considering the blonde had already been told several times by everyone in Anubis House and she still wasn’t even close to believing it, and given what Ashley knew about Poppy thus far (that she’s basically a younger and female Jerome), she wouldn’t believe it coming from her either. Probably. Hopefully.

It was the whole ‘Jerome’s-got-a-sister’ thing he didn’t really want to get out. “Okay,” he agreed to her terms. “Okay.”

“Okay. Pleasure doing business with you, Clarke,” Poppy said, pushing him before leaving.

Yeah, definitely the devil incarnate.

Except he trained this girl himself, knew all her tricks because they were his. He’d probably be able to be two steps ahead of her. And he was getting really tired of paying her off, especially when she’s now demanding half of his allowance—not likely. So the next time they met up, he barely gave her a fourth of his allowance.

“What’s this?” Poppy questioned. “You may as well give me actual peanuts.”

“Take it or leave it,” Jerome replied.

“We agreed. Half your allowance.”

“No, you agreed. I did not.”

Poppy looked like she’d just accepted a challenge. “Hardball it is, then. Prepare to lose.”

“I refuse to be blackmailed by you anymore,” Jerome said. “Do your worst.”

“Fighting talk,” Poppy remarked. “You’ve got sass, Clarke. I like that. I think I’ll start with Ashley,” this brought on by Ashley’s figure passing by the room they were in, eyes on her phone with no notice of the two siblings, “tell her how much you love her.”

“You can try,” he said, shaking his head and blatantly challenging her now, “she’ll never believe you. Everyone else’s been telling her that for almost three years, she’s not gonna start believing it now.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll think differently coming from your little sister.”

“You forget that she already knows one Clarke.”

“Pretty well judging by all those photos you’ve got of her on your phone. See you later, loser.”

Poppy left before he could get a retort in. She was off to do exactly what he said, her worst, and though by the end of the day his housemates knew he had a sister and had seen several embarrassing childhood photos of him, it turned out that Poppy actually did not speak to Ashley. At least that was a win—Jerome was bluffing when he said Ashley wouldn’t believe her. If it was coming from his sister, despite all the tricks, she might actually start to believe it.

( — chapters twenty-three through twenty-five. )

“Mr. Sweet stopped Ash and I from starting a food fight,” Alfie remarked as he came up to Jerome.

The masked ball was in full-swing and Jerome was enjoying it majorly until Mara made him give Joy and Nina their money back after selling them the exact same dress. The metal band mix-up was also fun, until they started playing classical rock music. Now he was just people-watching—well, more like Ashley-watching. She was talking to Mara about something when Alfie came up and started saying stuff about a food fight. That definitely would’ve made the night more fun.

“Shame he did,” Jerome replied. “This party’s getting boring.”

“Yeah. Do you always have to stare at her like that?”

“What?”

“Ashley. Why don’t you just go over and ask her to dance?”

Jerome looked back at Ashley; she was speaking with Amber and Patricia now. But something just a bit more interesting, in terms of things he could use to his advantage somehow, caught his eye, because Patricia was smiling this way, right at one Eddie Miller—who was smiling back at her. Alfie noticed it, too.

“Does someone have a little bitty crush?” Jerome remarked nonchalantly. “You have been hanging around her rather a lot lately.”

Eddie scoffed and corrected, “Her hanging around with me, Jerry. Her hanging around with me.”

“No way,” Alfie countered. “She hates you, man. I’m willing to bet there’s no way you could get militia Patricia to dance with you.”

This could be interesting. Jerome looked at Eddie with an expectant smile and Eddie said, “What, are we in kindergarten now?” A little more encouraging should probably work. Jerome and Alfie shrugged and fist-bumped and Eddie added, “Okay, okay. You’re asking for it. What are the term?”

“If you win,” Alfie started, “Jerome will sing ‘She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain’ on stage, in the style of a rap artist.”

That was most certainly not what Jerome was expecting to hear. “What?”

“But if you lose, you have to give Jerome the rest of your money for the month.”

That’s more like it. “Yeah, that works,” Jerome agreed. Besides, there was gonna be absolutely no way Eddie would actually get Trixie to dance with him. He wouldn’t have to sing ‘She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain’ on stage in the style of a rap artist (and what exactly possessed Alfie to come up with that, of all things?)

“Deal,” Eddie said. “What am I gonna spend it on around here anyway?”

Eddie and Jerome shook on it; the bet was on. Now all left to do was watch, except it was just Ashley and Amber by the curtain now, and then Fabian went over to talk to them. Patricia was at the refreshments.

Eddie put his mask on his face and went over to Patricia, and Jerome and Alfie watched amused as he tried and failed to get Patricia to dance. And then, against all odds, she set her mask down and let him take her onto the dance floor. He actually got her to dance with him, and when he spun them around so that Eddie was facing the direction Jerome and Alfie were watching from, he gave them a smug look.

“Hope you know the words to ‘She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain,” Alfie remarked as Jerome mouthed several things he couldn’t say out loud to Eddie, who winked at them. This wasn’t gonna be fun. “Ashley’s gonna have so much fun with it when she sees it.”

Jerome slowly turned to Alfie, narrowing his eyes and clenching his jaw. Not only did he now apparently have to go rap a folk song on stage, in front of everyone, at some point during the night, but Ashley was going to see it as well. She’s never gonna let him live it down.

“Oh, by the way, she wants you to ask her to dance,” Alfie added casually.

“Yeah,” Jerome retorted dryly as he glanced back to where Ashley and Amber had been standing, only to find that neither blonde was there anymore. “‘Cause I’m going to believe that after what just happened.”

“No, seriously, she does,” he insisted. “She said she was bored and wanted you to ask her to dance. It was right before Fabian’s speech, it’s how we almost started that food fight. So, go find her and ask her to dance. Especially since you apparently turned her down when she asked you to save her a dance. Seriously, why would you do that?”

“For the record, she took back that offer when she saw me in the stupid mummy costume.”

“Well, the offer’s back on. So go, ask her to dance before you start rapping.”

Jerome turned to him. “Tell me, do you see her anywhere? Or Amber or Nina or Fabian?”

Alfie looked around the room, shrugging. “No.”

“Exactly. She’s disappeared. Probably off playing hopscotch or whatever those four are up to.”

Ashley had indeed disappeared somewhere, which meant she wasn’t actually going to be there to watch Jerome completely murder ‘She’ll Be Coming ‘Round the Mountain.’ Fortunately for her, and unfortunately for Jerome, there was this little device called a camera phone and Alfie’s phone just happened to record videos.

As Jerome reluctantly stepped up to the mic on the stage, Alfie started filming.

“What’re you doing?” Joy questioned.

“Making a video of what’s about to happen for Ash,” Alfie replied as Jerome gestured for the music to cut out. “She’s going to be so mad she missed this!”

Thus, the world’s worst rendition of a folk song began. And it was, as promised, as ridiculous and embarrassing as it sounded like it would be. Alfie happily ended the video when he finished the song and immediately sent it to Ashley’s phone with the all-caps caption ‘JEROME RAPPED SHE’LL BE COMING ROUND THE MOUNTAIN ENJOY!’

Meanwhile across the room, Mara and Poppy had just discovered that the letter Poppy had snuck onto a tray of drinks that ended up in Trudy’s hands while Jerome was interrogating them about what was going on with them was no longer on the tray at all.

“There!” Mara exclaimed, pointing at the letter on the floor, but as they went toward it, someone’s foot knocked into it and sent it sliding all the way toward the stage. But before she could get it, Jerome jumped off the stage and unknowingly set his foot on it.

He figured out something was there when both sets of eyes glanced at his feet. He moved his foot and grabbed the envelope, unfolding it. It was addressed to both Poppy and Jerome Clarke, at Anubis House, and turning it over, there was a sticker on the back that sealed the letter from Huntswood Prison.

Jerome looked up from the envelope to Poppy, who looked careful but not regretful about what she’d done. Then he looked at Mara, who was standing right beside her. “You went behind my back. I would expect this from her, but you? Did Ashley know, too?”

“No, she didn’t, I swear—” Mara started.

“And why should I believe you? I saw you talking tonight. Was it about this?”

“No! I’m sorry, Jerome—”

“Spare me!” he retorted, brushing past them.

Mara grabbed Poppy’s arm as she went to follow. “I think we should wait this one out.”

Jerome returned to Anubis House, far before the masked ball ended, with the letter in hand and mind only on what could be in it. Poppy wrote a letter to their dad, a man who was literally in prison for God knows what. But he tore the letter open, and he read it, and then he reread it a dozen times, because his dad wanted them to visit.

When morning came, he’d slept on it, and still didn’t know what to do. But it wasn’t just Poppy who had kept this from him. Mara helped her do it, and maybe Ashley helped her, too. Ashley was the only other person besides Mara who knew that his dad was in prison, and he wouldn’t have expected it from her, either. Maybe last year, just to spite him, but this year? It didn’t seem like her, but it didn’t change the fact that she was close with both Poppy and Mara, especially on the subject of his dad.

For what it was worth, Ashley didn’t seem too off at breakfast. He didn’t look at her through most of it, which might’ve definitely been unusual, but the few times he did look at her, she looked genuinely confused as to why he was acting like he was. And Mara seemed to have noticed that, because before they left for school, Jerome went back to his room to grab his bag and she knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response.

“She really didn’t know,” Mara repeated what she’d said last night. “We didn’t tell her.”

“She was the only other person who knew—”

“The only thing she knows is that there was a delivery for you and Poppy,” Mara interrupted. “That’s only because she was there when it arrived. She asked me what it was last night and I told her that she couldn’t tell you and she stopped me from telling her because she was sure it was something to do with your dad and she didn’t think she could lie to you about it. That’s what she and I were talking about last night.”

Jerome paused, thinking it over. He put his bag over his shoulder and turned around to face her. “You really didn’t tell her?” he asked cautiously.

Mara shook her head. “No. Poppy didn’t want to. Ashley has no idea about the letter. Jerome, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interfere. It just meant so much to Poppy.”

The letter was sitting on his nightstand. He glanced at it, grabbing it and holding it up. “He wants me to go and visit him.”

“Is that bad?”

“No. How could meeting my estranged father in prison be bad? Yeah, I’d say it’s not good.”

“But—”

“I need to think about it,” Jerome interrupted, locking the letter in the nightstand. “Maybe. I don’t know. In the meantime, I’d appreciate you not telling any of that to Poppy. I mean it, Mara. You owe me that much.”

Mara looked at him for a few seconds before nodding. “Will you talk to Ashley about this? She’ll tell you the truth. You can still trust her.”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to her.”

( — chapters twenty-nine and thirty. )

When his dad said that he wanted him to visit alone next time to tell him something in private, Jerome had no idea what to think of it. He knew that Ashley said it sounded mysterious but she was one of those people who looked for a mystery in everything, which after what happened last term made sense for her. Sort of. But he had stopped speculating and returned this afternoon to the prison—only to find that Poppy was already there, sitting across from their dad.

Aside from the fact that her being there meant that he wouldn’t find out whatever it was their dad wanted to tell him, Poppy’s presence meant that she read the letter and given that smug smile on her face, she wanted Jerome to know it. So after that and figuring out how she got there, and after their dad stopped them from swatting at each other (and said that was the first time in a long time he’s felt like a real dad, which had them laughing lightly), Poppy had just come back with some sweets from the machine (which gave Jerome’s dad a chance to say that whatever he wanted to discuss would have to wait and he’d have to come alone next time).

And it was just after that that one blonde Australian came up in conversation.

“Poppy was telling me about your girlfriend, Jerome,” said John. “She sounds like quite a girl.”

Even Poppy looked confused. Jerome just asked, “My girlfriend?”

“Ashley.”

Poppy seemed to realize what exactly had happened and awkwardly scratched behind her ear before lowering her hand. Jerome turned to her, narrowing his eyes before questioning, “What did you say to him?”

“Just the truth!” Poppy defended.

“Oh, yes, she told me all about how Ashley’s been helping her and you with finding me,” John continued, with apparently no notice of the way Jerome was glaring at Poppy. “Poppy’s very fond of her. You should bring her sometime, Jerome. I’d love to meet her.”

“That’s not happening,” Jerome replied. Aside from the fact that he was most certainly not dating her, he also knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t want to come. “Ashley’s not my girlfriend.”

Now John looked confused. “But Poppy said you were in love.”

Poppy cleared her throat and shook her head. “No, I said that Jerome’s in love with her but refuses to tell her, even though it’s so obvious that her boyfriend even told her—”

“She has a boyfriend?”

“No, they broke up,” Jerome answered before turning back to Poppy. “And how did you even know about that?”

“Everyone heard about it,” Poppy said. “I was in the next hall over and heard it myself. People were looking at me all weird because they know I’m your sister. And anyway, I thought it was really strange how he brought you up when he’s the one that cheated on her—”

“Do you mind not telling him all of Ashley’s business?”

“Wait a moment, I’m confused,” John cut in. Both of his children turned back to look at him. “So, this Ashley isn’t your girlfriend? But you love her? Does she love you back?” Jerome said no, Poppy said yes, and Jerome glared at her again. “Well, which is it, yes or no?”

“No,” Jerome answered definitively. “No, she doesn’t.”

“Yes, she does,” Poppy argued.

“Poppy—”

“Come on, Jerome. The entire school knows it. Why do you think there’s a bet on when you two will get over yourselves and get together?”

A bet? That was news to him. Jerome turned to his sister again, questioning, “Bet? What are you talking about, a bet?”

“The bet,” Poppy said again. “I don’t know who started it but it’s spread across the whole school. People have even come to me asking for the inside scoop so they get their money. So, when do you think you’ll tell her you love her? This year or next year?”

“Which did you bet on?”

“No way I’m telling you! You’ll just make it so whichever I didn’t bet on happens.”

Jerome rolled his eyes. John looked between them, now utterly confused as to what was happening, and said, “Wait. Give me a minute to get this straight. So…Ashley isn’t your girlfriend, but you do like her. And she recently broke up with her boyfriend who cheated on her. And there’s a schoolwide bet on when you two will get together, and everyone but you thinks she likes you. Is that right?”

Poppy nodded. Jerome glared at her again.

You know, her telling their dad about Ashley was one thing. Her telling him that Jerome’s in love with her, therefore leading their dad to think that Jerome and Ashley are dating, was another, and something told Jerome that when Ashley herself found out, she wouldn’t be too happy. But on the other hand, the fact that his dad heard as much as he did about them and made the leap to them dating was kind of…it kind of felt nice, if irritating.

But now he finds out that there’s some kind of bet on them? He’d bet money that it was Alfie or Amber that started it.

“You know, there’s even a nickname for them,” Poppy remarked. “Everyone calls them Jashley.”

Jerome wished he was unfamiliar with the nickname. He’d heard it from Alfie back when he’d first found out Jerome had feelings for the other half of that equation, apparently it had been coined by Amber. And Alfie really enjoyed using it.

“You know, all this talk of Ashley,” John said, “and no one’s shown me a photo of her yet.”

“Oh, I can do that,” Poppy said immediately, taking her phone out of her pocket. After a minute, she handed it across to him. “That’s her and Jerome at prom a few months ago. They went together.”

“She’s very pretty, Jerome,” John noted.

“Yeah, I know,” Jerome responded before laying his eyes on Poppy again. “Where did you get that photo?”

“It’s on her profile,” Poppy explained. “She friended me. I thought Dad might ask. She’s got tons of photos on there.”

And judging by the way John was clicking on the phone, he was looking at some of the other photos Poppy saved. “You and she make a nice couple—”

“We’re not a couple,” Jerome interrupted again as he reached for Poppy’s phone, giving it back to her. “And you—stop saving photos from her profile.”

Poppy shrugged and said, “Okay.” She clicked a few times on her phone before passing it across to their dad again. With a smug smile, she continued, “Here’s one she sent to me.”

Jerome knew which photo it was before his dad had even had a chance to look at it. There was only one photo he knew Ashley had sent to her—the one she’d taken of them at the opening gala for the exhibition, while he was dressed as a mummy. That was confirmed when John laughed at the photo and said, “Why are you dressed like a mummy?”

“It was a job,” Jerome replied quickly before taking the phone back. “How often do you and Ashley text?”

His sister shrugged again. “Sometimes.”

“Okay, that stops now.”

“Afraid she’s going to tell me something embarrassing about you?”

“More like worried you two are going to start conspiring against me together.”

“Get over it, Gerbil.”

John interjected before they could start swatting each other again, tapping his fingers on the table and pointing toward the phone Poppy was taking back from Jerome. “Well, if this Ashley isn’t your girlfriend,” he said, “she still seems like a very good friend and I’d still like to meet her. You should bring her sometime.”

Very good friend.

That’s all Ashley would ever be, and maybe that was his own fault. The second he realized that his feelings for her were more than he expected, he swore to himself that she’d never know. Mostly because at the time he realized it he’d barely known her a month and he’d accidentally started a less-than-friendly rivalry with her. And things seemed to have gone pretty well with that swear until Alfie figured it out and decided to try and set them up for the next year and a half. Though the first time Ashley did hear him say that she reacted with a scoff and theorized that they were planning something, using that to preoccupy her mind so she didn’t figure it out, and she’d sleep with one eye open.

Though Jerome would admit, reluctantly of course, that there were more than a few times over the past few months that he caught her looking at him differently than she ever had before, and when he caught that, he let himself forget that swear and wonder what things might be like if he told her and, by some miracle, she felt the same about him.

But she didn’t, and he knew that, and before he could think too much on it he always pulled himself out of it, forced himself to come back to the real world where she was his best friend and he was nothing more than that to her.

“She’s not coming,” Jerome responded to his dad’s offer after a moment.

“Jerome, I think you should let the girl,” John said, “make that decision herself—”

“I know Ashley, she’s not going to want to come,” Jerome said again. Aside from that, he couldn’t quite figure out what exactly she and her roomies plus Fabian had been up to lately, but whatever it was, she was certainly keeping busy with it. There was also the fact that if on the unlikely chance Ashley did want to come, Jerome was relatively certain his dad would try and suss out if she had feelings for him, and that was something probably better left to Alfie and his wild theories. “And I think she’s got too much on her plate without making the trip out here for an hour.”

“All right, but I do expect to meet her at some point.”

( — chapter fifty-seven. )

“Eddie, do you have the crib notes for French?”

Eddie responded with a distant yeah, handing him a plastic-wrapped sandwich from his locker like it was the notes he’d asked for without even glancing Jerome’s way. It was definitely odd, even for Eddie. Seemed like he’s not entirely focused on schoolwork (if he ever was), but this begged for more questions.

Jerome looked from the sandwich to Eddie, adding, “Something on your mind?” Eddie closed his locker and scoffed. “Oh, come on. I’m not all bad. Try me.”

He tilted his head at him, and Eddie admitted, “Uh, well, me and Patricia went on this date the other night—”

“And it was a romantic disaster,” Jerome finished with a laugh, the only plausible ending to that sentence. “Yeah. That’s a surprise.”

“No, the date was fine,” he corrected. “It’s just after, we didn’t—we didn’t kiss.”

“Oh,” Jerome said, drawing it out a little. Patricia Williamson—militia Patricia—going on a date with American Eddie Miller was interesting enough on its own. “But I thought you were one of those supercool, uber-confident, piece-of-cake kind of guys.”

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie replied sarcastically, “but uh…no. It’s—I don’t know. Patricia’s…” Right at that moment, Patricia and Ashley passed by them, the latter talking to her about movies or something. Eddie turned around to look at the subject of the conversation while Jerome watched curiously. There was something to be said about the fact that the girl Eddie liked and the girl Jerome liked were currently down the hall conversing while one of them was the thing they were talking about. “Different. I’ve never felt like this before.”

Jerome would be lying if he said he couldn’t relate to what he was saying. Ashley was different too, definitely not in the same way, but she was different. A challenge with fire in her eyes and a never-ending storm in her head.

He regarded her for a moment until she glanced his way, at which point he turned back to Eddie and said, getting back on the Trixie line of thought, “Okay. Then here is what you do, my American friend.” Eddie crossed his arms. “Right, the next time you’re with her, you’re going to plant a big, fat smackeroo right on those luscious lips on hers.”

Eddie glanced back at Patricia, who was now opening a bag of crisps and offering some to Ashley. Ashley must’ve declined it because Patricia shrugged and put a handful in her mouth. “Think so?”

“Yeah, everything except luscious.”

“Huh,” Eddie murmured. “All right, yeah. Pretty good advice, Jerry.” Jerome rolled his eyes at the nickname; Eddie refused to give it up and called him that more than his actual name. But it got under his skin, which is probably what Eddie was aiming for with it. “Should probably take it yourself.”

“What?”

“Ashley,” Eddie elaborated, turning back to where both girls were standing. They were going down another hallway now, still talking. Jerome narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, dude, it’s insanely obvious that you like her. I’m pretty sure the only person who doesn’t know is her.”

“Surprised it took you this long to jump on the bandwagon,” Jerome retorted, neither confirming nor denying. He’d meant to tell her exactly that two days ago, after babysitting Alfie’s surprise little brother, but she’d left before he could, which he briefly considered a good thing because he had no idea what he was going to say to her nor any idea how she’d react. “Those rumors seemed right up your alley to use to your advantage.”

“Ha, yeah. Actually Joy said if I want to be an official Anubis resident I’ve got to at least pretend to care about you and her being so obviously into each other. Didn’t really see why everyone cared so much ‘til just now.”

“You’d probably do well not listening to Joy about it anymore.”

“Yeah, don’t think so. Seriously, dude, just take your own advice,” Eddie said, clapping his hand on Jerome’s shoulder before walking away—the exact opposite direction of both Patricia and French.

“Where are you going?” Jerome questioned. “French is that way.”

“Oh, I’ve been to class all morning. It’s Eddie time. See if Ashley’s got those notes you’re looking for,” Eddie said, smugly grinning at him before disappearing around the corner.

Jerome shook his head, rolling his eyes. See if Ashley’s got those notes—Ashley never has notes for French. And if she does, she probably burns them once she’s finished with them considering how much she hates that class.

( — chapters sixty-six and sixty-seven. )

It was raining.

And Jerome was hidden behind some tires, his bike near him, waiting for a car to pull up so he could know if Trudy, who had been recently kidnapped, was safe. Jasper was waiting by his own car, a doll that once belonged to Sarah Frobisher-Smythe in hand, with no idea Jerome had followed him out here.

A car pulled up, and a familiar woman stepped out from the passenger side. “Vera,” he murmured at the sight of her. There was always something off about her and obviously everything Mara had written in her article had been accurate, and somehow Vera made herself seem like the innocent party in the eyes of everyone who didn’t know Mara. “I knew it.” Another figure stepped out of the car, his face hidden beneath the hood he was wearing. “Wait. What?”

“I don’t see a dollhouse,” said the other figure’s disguised voice. The Anubis dollhouse was initially what Jasper had promised after Jerome caught it lighting up and smoking on its own in Ashley, Amber, and Nina’s room upstairs, but it was too big to get out unnoticed immediately. The doll was the next best thing, creepy riddle and all. “Are you incapable of completing one simple task?”

“I need an assurance from you that Trudy is unharmed,” Jasper said.

“She is safe, for now. Where is the dollhouse?”

“It’s coming, but it takes time. Meanwhile, I’ve brought this.”

Jasper took the doll out of the bag he had with him. Vera asked, “Where did you get that?”

“It belonged to Sarah Frobisher-Smythe. And it plays a message. Listen.”

Before Jasper could play the cryptic riddle the doll hid, the Collector grew angry, grabbing his arm roughly. “I don’t need a doll.” He tossed the doll into the mud and grabbed the front of Jasper’s shirt. “I need a dollhouse!”

Jerome had stood to get a better view, see if he could see the face beneath the hood, but his foot hit a chain and he was ducking to hide again before he was seen. If Vera found him, there wasn’t any doubt he’d end up kidnapped just as Trudy was, and he really didn’t like the idea of that.

“What was that?” Vera questioned. “Have you brought someone with you?”

“You better not have,” said the disguised voice.

Jerome looked out just enough to see that Vera was coming his way with a torch in her hand, preparing to search the area where the sound was, and the closer she came, the more likely he’d be found. Even hiding the best he could wouldn’t get past her, but he was hoping for the best. Another distraction maybe…

“We don’t have time for this,” the disguised voice said. Vera stepped away from the tires and went back to him and Jasper. “You have twenty-four hours. After that, Trudy will pay the price. And so will you…” The man turned his head the direction of Vera. “And so will Ashley Adams.”

“You’ll have her, very soon,” promised Vera.

“Twenty-four hours!” the voice shouted to Jasper again as he turned.

“Ashley…” Her name was hardly more than a whisper from Jerome, more from his shock hearing it from a disguised voice than his still hiding. Hearing her name from that voice was like getting punched in the gut, and what Vera followed it up with? That felt like being crushed by the tires he was hiding behind. “No. Not her.”

Vera knew. Vera knew who Ashley Adams really was. That was the only thing Jerome could get from what she said. Jasper said that The Collector wants anything and everything that belonged to the Frobisher-Smythes. Maybe that even included the one person living who was related to them, even if it wasn’t by blood. Lily Henry had been adopted by them, hadn’t she? He remembered her telling him something like that.

Jasper left in his car with the doll, with still no idea Jerome had heard all of that. Jerome got on his bike and returned to Anubis House, mind racing the entire night, and yet it was a pair of piercing blue eyes that looked at him all sorts of different ways that kept coming back. The next day, he went back to Frobisher Library, ready to get some answers about what happened last night.

“Truth time,” Jerome started. Jasper was repairing a mosaic and stopped when he heard his voice. “I know Vera’s involved.”

“Jerome, what are you—” Jasper said.

“No more lies,” he interrupted. “I was there. I know she’s involved.”

Jasper looked back at the mosaic he was working on, some green tacky thing that used to be in Anubis House, before confessing, “Yes, Vera is involved.” At least now he’s telling the truth about one thing. He put the mosaic in the drawer of his desk. “But she’s not the Collector.”

“Do you know who he is?”

“No,” Jasper denied. “And there’s nothing I can do about Vera. Not while the Collector’s got Trudy. We need that dollhouse. I’m afraid that if we don’t get it—”

“You’ll have it,” Jerome said. “Which brings me to my next point. The dollhouse is in Ashley’s room. Ashley Adams. When was the last time you heard that name, Jasper?” The curator’s mouth parted. “That’s what I thought. What does he want with Ashley?”

“I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.”

“No more lies.”

“It’s not a lie, Jerome. I never heard Ashley’s name from neither Vera nor the Collector.”

“Then what have you heard? What have they said? They had to have said something!”

Jasper quieted him. Jerome ran a hand over his face, trying to calm himself down, before looking back at him expectantly. After a few seconds of thinking on it, Jasper said, “Well…the Collector wants anything and everything Frobisher. She does live in Anubis House—”

“So do nine other people, but I only heard her name.”

“Perhaps he thinks she has a stronger connection to the Frobisher-Smythes than anyone else in that house. Although I don’t understand why he or Vera would think that. She’s Australian, and there’s no Frobisher-Smythe connection to that country.”

A connection to the Frobisher-Smythes. Always comes back to Robert, doesn’t it? Jerome sighed. “Have you ever heard of Michael and Elizabeth Henry?”

Jasper nodded. “Of course. They were on the expedition to open Tutankhamun’s tomb in 1922 with Robert and Louisa. Very close friends of the Frobisher-Smythes, though they both went to prison after being convicted of stealing from the tomb. No one ever found what it was they stole, nor what the Frobisher-Smythes were suspected of stealing. What have they got to do with anything?”

“They had a daughter called Lily who was adopted by the Frobisher-Smythes after they went to prison. Lily Henry is Ashley’s great-grandmother.”

“I see.”

“That has to be why this guy wants her, right? And Vera said that he’ll have her—”

But Jasper interjected, shaking his head as something like remembrance appeared in his eyes, “No. No, I’ve heard Vera say something like that before. She didn’t think I was there, she was on the phone with him. She said that he’ll have the…the Bringer of Death.”

It was like someone had heard Jerome thinking to himself over and over ‘this couldn’t be any worse’ and said no, let’s make it worse. Jasper was about to figure out what Vera and the Collector must’ve already known.

“She was talking about Ashley Adams, wasn’t she?” Jasper said. Jerome stayed silent, watching the pieces fall into place in his head. “Of course. Ashley Adams is the Bringer of Death. Michael and Elizabeth’s granddaughter—of course!”

“What do you know about the Bringer of Death?” Jerome asked cautiously. Every time he said it, the title sounded even more ridiculous and he got flashbacks to that one scene in The Mummy, which wasn’t doing anything to help his nerves at the moment.

“Well, not much, she’s merely a legend, or—or I thought she was,” Jasper explained. “There have been dozens of women throughout history who have been rumored to be it. But there’s never been any proof she actually existed, just rumors and theories. I thought she was a myth.”

“Well, she’s not.”

“You knew who she was. Well, that—that makes sense, I do know that you’re close with her. But so is Fabian,” Jasper said, speaking now of his godson. “Does—does he know about her as well?”

“Fabian’s the one who figured it out,” Jerome reluctantly confirmed.

“It’s really Ashley Adams? She’s not who I would have expected.”

“Jasper, focus. Is Vera going to try and kidnap Ashley like they have Trudy?”

Jasper let out a heavy sigh. “She might. Unless we bring the dollhouse to them first,” he said. Right. Back to the dollhouse. “He’ll let Trudy go and he might back off Ashley if we bring it to him. Jerome. Do you want to keep Ashley safe?”

The question had a simple answer. “More than anything.”

��Then we need that dollhouse.”

( — chapter seventy-four. )

It had been two days since Jerome went to Ashley’s room and confessed that he had romantic feelings for her to her face. He still wasn’t sure why he chose that night to tell her—maybe it had something to do with them being locked in that barn, or to do with the fact that Rufus and Vera were plotting to kidnap her—but he told her, expecting nothing of it. Well, he sort of expected for her to tell him to get out. That was it.

The one thing he didn’t expect, and the only reaction he didn’t prepare for, was for her to tell him she felt the same way. And that was exactly what happened, and after that he tried out the eyelash trick, which she immediately called him on before kissing him. Which basically means the eyelash trick worked. And honestly, if Amber hadn’t walked in and started freaking out about it, he probably would’ve stayed with Ashley until Victor called curfew.

But now their relationship had changed—right there between friends and more. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to her the day after they first kissed because she was by Nina’s side all day after that article posted on the Jack Jackal column, but he’d had a chance to talk to her today and more when he pulled her into that classroom (and accidentally scared her into thinking she was about to be kidnapped, but that part wasn’t relevant.)

And yeah, Jerome was a little disappointed that Ashley didn’t want to come to the prison with him to tell his dad about the gem, but at least she was up for meeting him sometime. Just not today. Although given that he was afraid his dad may have a less-than-stellar reaction to the gem being stolen again, it was probably a good thing she hadn’t come. He’d invited Mara to come on Ashley’s suggestion, since she’d already met him.

“The gem was right there in the shield,” Jerome explained hesitantly. “And—and then it was gone. I let you down, Dad. I’m sorry.”

John didn’t look at all disappointed. “At what point did you let me down? You found the missing gem. Then you retrieved it from inside a goose,” he started to recap the gem’s journey back to the shield in the 21st century. “Then you cat-burgled the housekeeper who stole it.” Technically that one was Fabian and Nina but he wasn’t going to correct that. “Then you won a ping-pong championship to get the shield to put it in.”

“Pretty much,” Jerome confirmed with a light laugh.

“You’re a true Clarke,” John said, hitting him lightly on the arm as he laughed. “You couldn’t write it.”

“Someone should. ‘Saved by the Gem: A Tale of Two Clarkes and a Goose.’”

“What do you reckon, Mara? Would anybody want to read that?”

Mara thought on it. “Well, actually, yes. Definitely.”

Jerome had an idea suddenly, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Oh, hey. I can, however, show you a picture of the gem.” He went through the photos on his phone before finding the ones from after the tournament, handing it across to his dad.

John took the phone, smiling at it. “Ah, there she is. Beautiful.”

“I will get it back, of course,” Jerome promised. “I will. I just need to figure out how.”

“I know,” John said. He turned the phone around on one photo; it was the one Ashley had taken of Jerome and Poppy. “This one—this one may be my favorite.”

“Oh, Ashley took that one,” Mara recalled. “She took tons of photos of the tournament for the school website. She told me that was one she thought you might like.”

“Jerome, you really should bring her,” John told him as he turned the phone back around, continuing to click through the photos of the gem. Jerome gave a somewhat awkward smile, not about to tell him that he tried to get her to come today. Then John’s entire face changed as he clicked through to a photograph that was taken that very morning. “Oh. Well, this is certainly another reason why I should meet her. I see my boy’s finally got his act together.”

“What?” Mara asked, eyebrows furrowed.

John started to turn the phone around but Jerome caught the photo on the screen and scrambled for the phone before Mara could see it. Amber was still the only person who knew that the relationship had shifted and if Alfie found out Mara knew before him, he’d never hear the end of it. “Ah, no,” Jerome said quickly, clicking the screen off. Mara looked at him confused. “No.”

“Oh, the ping-pong,” Mara said with a tone of realization. “You should be very proud. Jerome told me Ashley was sort of his good luck char—”

“Right, well, we better be getting back to the house,” Jerome interrupted with a clearing of his throat as he stood up. He definitely regretted mentioning that to Mara now. “Mara?”

“Uh, sure,” Mara said, still bewildered. “All right.”

John grabbed Jerome’s sleeve before he could turn around. He lowered his voice as he asked, “Are you sure you and this Ashley aren’t an item? I’ve just seen a photo that says otherwise.”

“Dad, it’s a bit complicated,” Jerome started.

“Then keep it simple, stupid,” John retorted. Jerome would admit he was a little taken aback. “Based on everything you and Poppy and now Mara have told me, she seems like a good match for you. And judging by that photo, she seems to like you. Uncomplicate it. Don’t miss your chance, okay?”

Don’t miss your chance.

Her schedule seemed to be busier than ever, but he’d managed to catch her alone a few times. Next time he did, he’d make sure he didn’t miss his chance to be with her. “Okay.”

( — chapter ninety. )

All in all, the day Jerome had just had was one of the more unbelievable ones he’d lived.

First, he spent half the day in Rufus’ creepy barn, waiting for a chance to escape. Then when he finally got a chance, Rufus found him hiding amongst the hay bales and dragged him back inside—only for him to bring a disoriented Eddie into the room a few minutes later, replacing him in the chair and tossing a blanket over Eddie’s head (but it gave Jerome a chance to put the real gem in Eddie’s pocket so Rufus didn’t have it anymore) and dragging him to the car.

Then he was roughly shoved into Frobisher Library, forced to go into some dark and dusty tunnel through a secret passage behind a bookcase and down to some chamber by Rufus, saw the (fake, as it turned out) Mask of Anubis, figured out that the gem he’d given to Eddie was the thing that completed said Mask, thrown the (fake) Mask to Alfie, and got out of that strange tunnel with Amber into Frobisher Library.

And then it turns out that Eddie is some kind of—some kind of Osirian or something? Jerome still wasn’t sure what exactly that meant but Nina and Ashley seemed to know, and Ashley seemed pretty shocked. Then Nina put the third eye in the Mask, put it on her face, the thing began to weep gold tears, and then that ghost Mara and Eddie had captured on film was on the second level and possessed Nina or something, shot some lightning bolt at Joy—and was promptly defeated by Ashley and Eddie working together somehow. At that point he still didn’t understand a thing that was happening. Pretty much the only thing he did understand after that was Rufus putting the real Mask of Anubis on, declaring that he was about to be a god, only for a fiery pit to open up in the floor that he must’ve gone down or something.

All in all, pretty unbelievable day.

But fortunately, things began to look up when he returned to Anubis House after trying and failing to get a hold of Poppy to see how the hearing went. Mara berated him for missing it, which was about when Alfie came in holding the real gem which he had left behind in the chaos, and it was just after that he turned around and his sister and his father were standing right behind him. He won the hearing, and now he was free. And now that he had the gem back, he could put it back where it belonged, in Frobisher Shield.

And things certainly began to look up when Ashley called his name, kissed him in front of everyone, and told him that she loved him. And Jerome had kissed her, and he had told her he loved her, too. He’d figured that out a long time ago and it had been on the tip of his tongue every time he’d seen her since. Finally telling her made him feel like despite everything that had happened that day, and despite whatever happened in the library…things had turned out pretty all right.

Jerome had danced with her a little bit, talked about their new relationship, and told her again he loved her so many times she was probably getting sick of it. Well, probably not, but it was right after that last one that Ashley stopped dancing with him and instead pulled him over to his dad and Poppy to chat. She was probably trying to fix things considering that she’d met his dad literally one minute after their relationship had become official.

“So, Jerome told me you’re an artist,” John was saying now.

Ashley was taking a sip of her punch. “Mm. Yeah, I am.”

“She’s good at it,” Jerome remarked, smiling adoringly at her.

“And I know it.”

The not-so-modest comment had all three Clarkes laughing and Ashley, visibly relieved it had gone over well, brought her cup to her mouth again. John said, “She’s got wit. I like her.” And that one had that look of relief returning to her face. “I don’t mean to sound…but have you got anything you think I could see?”

“Actually…” Now Ashley looked thoughtful and she nodded. “I might. Stay here.” She handed her cup to Jerome and started toward the door, running into Patricia and Eddie on the way. Eddie held his hands up in a somewhat defensive position as she said bluntly, “Out of my way, Edison.”

Patricia chuckled and said, loud enough that they could hear from where they are, “Wow, she is really not taking it well.”

“I know,” Eddie said, a devious smile on his face. “I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Jerome had absolutely no clue what either of them meant by what they said, but he put it at the top of the list of things he wanted to ask Ashley about. Also on the list: first actual date, when should she meet his mum, is he really willing to meet her sister again but this time as the boyfriend given what happened the last and only time they met (her sister was not his biggest fan, to put things lightly), things like that.

Ashley came back down about a minute later, and he recognized her sketchbook in her hands. She was flipping through it as she returned to where she was standing. Among the sketches he saw was one of that photo of Lily and Sarah that was in that box Sarah left her, some landscapes, one of an elderly lady and Nina. “Ah…here.” She stopped at one of the sketches, tearing it out and handing it to John. “You can have this one. I finished it last night, couldn’t sleep.”

The sketch was of the very same photo that his dad had recently seen of Jerome and Poppy, the one from after the tournament when they put the gem back in the shield (for the first time). Like all her other drawings, this one was good as well. Good wasn’t a strong enough word; it was amazing. “You sketched me and Poppy?” Jerome questioned, a light smitten tone accompanying his words.

“When you’ve got a photo that good,” Ashley replied, “it’d be a crime not to sketch it.”

“Wow, Ashley,” Poppy said, beaming. “You’re really good.”

“You are,” John agreed with a nostalgic smile. “Thank you for this, Ashley. I’m glad I’ve finally a chance to talk to you. And thank you for helping my son get the gem back.”

“Yeah, you would not believe,” Ashley said, “the vendetta I’ve got against that gem.” Jerome chuckled lightly. He was the only one aware of the true history of the gem before his dad stole it all those years ago. The third eye. “I’m just glad everything’s how it should be.”

She looked at Jerome as she said that. He smiled at her in a way that could only be described as entirely smitten, and his tone was the same as he said, “I really do love you.” She leaned up and kissed him quickly, a peck more than anything, but it meant everything.

Behind them, Amber said, “Hey, Ashley. So sorry to interrupt. Hi, Poppy, Mr. Clarke.” Poppy waved at her a little. Amber looked at Ashley again. “I need your help with the cake.”

Jerome told his family, “That’s code for girl talk.”

“No, it’s code for Amfie talk,” Ashley corrected with a smirk. Amber tilted her head. “Oh, I have to hear this. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Amber dragged Ashley into the kitchen with the cake, already gossiping about ‘Amfie’ or whatever they were talking about. Jerome turned back, venturing, “So, uh…what do you think of her?”

“You better not let that girl go, Jerome,” was John’s immediate response, and definitely the one Jerome was hoping for. Poppy nodded to agree. “She is a real gem.”

Jerome glanced back at Ashley, catching her eye with a soft smile. “I know.”

#ch: ashley adams #ocappreciation #type: writing #in editing tof/rewatching s2 i noticed SO MANY moments where jerome would've spoken about ash to others #that obviously she would never have heard therefore it would not have been in the story #consider this an extension of some of those christmas one shots #such as the key; kid alfie; etc #anyway have 8.5k words of jerome talking about ashley!

38 notes · View notes

trashcanmarvelfan · 5 years

Text

(Stand-Up) Routines and (Engagement) Rings

Summary: 2 years after the events of IT: Chapter Two, Richie brings Eddie out during one of his stand-up performances in order to ask a Very Important Question.

Warnings: Lots of F-bombs (like seriously there’s 1 for less than every 100 words or something but let’s face it, our gay little balls of sunshine can’t say anything without swearing)

Word Count: 2300-ish.

Author’s Note: The Reddie Fix-it Future Fic no one asked for. :) Enjoy!

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3

Richie Tozier paced back and forth backstage in the theatre at the Venetian Resort as his manager watched him. “I don’t know if I can do this,” Richie muttered.

“Don’t worry, everything is gonna go smoothly,” Brian replied. “You’ll do great. Here.” He handed Richie a glass of what looked like vodka on the rocks.

Richie took a sip and grimaced. “What the fuck is this?”

“Black cherry Vitamin Water,” Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie’s childhood best friend and boyfriend of two years, replied from behind him. “You need to stay hydrated and get your vitamins in. This is the last stop of your tour, I’m not going to let you get sick right when you get a break to come home.”

Richie grumbled but took another sip as Eddie moved in front of him. The things I do for love, he thought.

He could tell Eddie was scrutinizing his outfit. Richie had chosen dark-washed jeans, a black T-shirt, and an olive green suit jacket for his performance this evening.

Eddie brushed some imaginary lint off of Richie’s jacket before giving him a quick kiss. “You look great, babe.”

“Thanks,” Richie replied. His pocket buzzed and he pulled his phone out. He had a text from his & Eddie’s friend Ben. We’re here and in our seats.

Thank fuck, Richie thought, sending a quick k in response. He was glad that the rest of the Losers Club had made it to Las Vegas. Tonight was an extra-special performance – Not only was this the final show in Richie’s “Off the Rails” tour, tonight was the night that he would… Well. Richie would think about that when the time came so he wouldn’t make himself even more nervous.

The lights dimmed. “Showtime,” Eddie said, taking Richie’s glass from him and giving him one more brief kiss. “Knock ‘em dead, Rich.”

Richie took one more deep breath as he was announced.

Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Richie ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier!

Richie stepped out on stage, waved at the audience, and grabbed the microphone. “What’s up, Las Vegas?” he greeted with a smile. “You guys feeling good?”

He grinned at the audience’s reply of cheers and hoots.

“It’s so fucking great to be here with all of you. At least now I’m not the only drunk one in the room.”

He grinned at the audience’s laughter. Interacting with his audience and making them laugh always helped calm him down, so he hoped tonight would be the same.

He continued through his act until he got to the final bit, where he usually talked about his & Eddie’s relationship.

“Alright, so I’m gonna get serious for a moment. As a lot of you probably know, I came out as gay a few years ago. Turns out all the dick jokes I made over the years were not only because I am a dick, but also because I like dick.”

He paused as the audience laughed. Here comes the surprise. “So yeah, anyway, I’ve been out for a few years now and it’s been nice not having to hide my relationship with my boyfriend. He’s here tonight, actually, you guys want to meet him?”

He turned to the wings. Eddie was staring at him like he’d grown an extra head. What the fuck are you doing, he mouthed.

Richie grinned and gestured for Eddie to join him onstage. Come on, Eduardo, get your cute ass out here. “Aww, he’s being shy. Come on, babe, it’s ok.” He turned back to the audience. “He might need a little encouragement. Ladies and gentlemen, my boyfriend Eddie.”

The audience burst into applause and cheers. Richie could hear the rest of the Losers in the front row cheering, “WOO, YEAH EDDIE!”

After what seemed like an eternity Eddie finally stumbled onstage, where a stagehand ran out and handed him a mic. Richie suspected that Eddie had actually been pushed onstage, but the important thing was that he was actually out there.

Eddie gave Richie a look that said, you are in so much fucking trouble when we get back to the hotel tonight. “What’s up, fuckwad?” he said instead.

Richie laughed along with the audience.

“So yeah, everyone, this charming fellow here is my boyfriend, Eddie,” he explained. “We’ve been together for 2 years now but were best friends growing up, so we’ve known each other most of our lives. Although we did forget each other for 27 years – long-ass story, involves rampant homophobia and an evil demonic clown. And that was just Eddie’s mother.“

Richie saw Eddie shoot him an exaggerated glare as the audience laughed. "I kid, I kid,” he continued. “Actually, that title goes to his ex-wife.” He could see Eddie shaking his head at him, but at least there was no heat to it. Thank God Eddie knows most of my act. Richie needed to get through that part without accidentally pissing Eddie off before he got to the reason he brought him out on stage.

“So anyway, yeah, we were best friends growing up, then when we were 13 something changed – for me, anyway.” He chuckled. “I used to joke a lot when we were teenagers about fucking Eddie’s mom, but surprise, the whole time I actually wanted to fuck Eddie. Imagine his relief when he found out that saggy old boobs actually don’t turn me on.

We – along with our four other closest friends – have literally been through hell and back together. Twice, actually.” Richie paused again as the audience laughed some more. “But honestly there’s no one I’d rather have by my side in this insane thing called life than this motherfucker. So –” He broke off and turned towards Eddie, digging in his pocket and pulling out the small square box he had been hiding for the past month. He opened it and got down on one knee as a collective gasp rang throughout the theatre. “Eddie, my love, will you make me the happiest man alive by becoming my husband?”

Eddie, who had gasped and taken a step back when Richie had knelt, started nodding tearfully. “Fuck yes,” he said into his mic, then dropped it as he pulled Richie to his feet and into a kiss, burying his fingers into Richie’s shaggy hair.

(Richie had thought when he and Eddie first officially got together that Eddie would nag him to cut it, but it actually turned out that Eddie really liked both Richie’s hair and the noises Richie would make when Eddie would tug on it. Who knew that his Eddie Spaghetti had a hair-pulling kink?)

The audience went nuts, but Richie didn’t hear any of the noise. All he was focused on was his fiance. Fiance, sweetheart, betrothed, HUSBAND, Richie’s brain supplied helpfully.

He pulled the ring, which was a simple platinum band, out of the box and slid it onto Eddie’s finger, pulling Eddie into an embrace. “I fucking love you,” he mumbled against Eddie’s neck.

“I fucking love you too,” Eddie replied. “So fucking much.”

Richie gave Eddie another kiss before turning back to the audience. “In case you guys didn’t catch that, he just agreed to put up with my bullshit for the rest of our lives.”

He wrapped an arm around Eddie’s waist. “Now if you guys will excuse us, we’ve got some celebrating to do. Thank you all for being a part of this with me, you’ve been a fucking fantastic audience. Good night!”

He and Eddie walked backstage to thunderous applause, where Bill, Mike, Ben, and Beverly were waiting for them.

“Oh my God, what the fuck are you guys doing here?” Eddie exclaimed. “I thought we weren’t seeing you until Friendsgiving next month.”

“We couldn’t miss our best friends getting engaged, could we?” Mike replied.

Beverly wrapped them both in a hug. “Congratulations, you two!”

“Thanks, Bev,” Richie replied. “Great to see you guys. Thanks for coming.”

Eddie turned to Bill and slugged him on the arm. “You fucker! I just talked to you on Wednesday and you said you were going to Atlanta for a film shoot this weekend.”

Bill just shrugged and patted both of them on the back. “Congrats, guys.”

“Yeah, congrats,” Ben echoed.

“It’s about time one of you put a ring on it,” Mike added.

“Shit, that’s right, your ring.” Richie picked up Eddie’s hand and gently twisted the ring off his finger. “I wanted you to see – I had it engraved on the inside.” He handed the ring to Eddie, who held it up to the light.

R + E

Eddie looked back up at Richie with a smile. “30 years later and you’re still carving our initials into things.” He pulled out his phone. “Hang on just a second.” He sent out a quick text message, then tucked his phone back into his pocket.

Richie grinned before taking the ring and sliding it back onto Eddie’s finger. “You know, this might be personal bias talking but I think platinum looks a lot better on you than gold,” he said, referencing Eddie’s wedding ring from his first marriage.

Eddie smiled back at him softly. “Yeah you know, I think so too.”

They were interrupted by a stagehand. “Excuse me, Mr. Kaspbrak, here’s your coat that you asked for.”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “Jeez, Eds, are you in that big of a hurry to get back to the hotel to celebrate our engagement? Because you know, the limo is pretty roomy, we could start early.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, digging in the inside pocket of his coat. He pulled something out but kept whatever it was concealed in his hand. He handed Bill his coat. “Here, Bill, would you hold this for a minute? Thanks.”

Eddie took Richie’s hand. “I have something to tell you.”

“Oh my God, are you pregnant?” Richie asked jokingly.

“Jesus, Richie. Just shut the fuck up for a second.” Eddie shook his head fondly. “Anyway, I wanted to show you something as well, something… something I’ve been carrying since the day after my divorce from Myra was finalized.”

He opened his hand to reveal a platinum band very similar to the one currently resting on his finger.

He handed it to Richie. “Check the inside.”

Richie examined the inside of the ring and caught a glimpse of an engraving. He tilted it to inspect it further.

E + R

His jaw dropped and his eyes flicked back over to Eddie, who was watching him with pure love in his eyes.

Eddie took the ring back. “I was planning on asking you to marry me at Friendsgiving.”

“Yes,” Richie blurted. His brain seemed to had gone offline again.

Eddie laughed. “Well considering you beat me to proposing and we’re now engaged I’d assume that would’ve been your answer, dumbass.”

Suddenly an idea struck Richie. “Hey Eds, since we are in Las Vegas, elopement capital of the world, what do you think about getting hitched tonight?” He gestured at their rings then at the rest of the Losers Club. “I mean we both have rings and the most important people in our lives are already here.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Eddie replied.

Fuck, I guess not. “Well, yeah, but you know what actually, nevermind, it was a stupid fucking idea anyway–”

Eddie was nodding his head. “–Shit, Rich, yes. Fucking YES, I’d marry you right this fucking second if we could make it happen,” Eddie replied.

Richie’s heart swelled with relief. “Well okay then, let’s fucking do this.”

Mike had pulled out his phone and was scrolling through it. “The marriage license bureau is open until midnight,” he read off, “so if you guys want to you can go ahead and apply online for a marriage license on the way there.”

“Ben and I rented an SUV while we’re in town, so we can all ride together if you guys want,” Bev offered.

Richie was already texting Brian so he could get a press release together. “Yeah that sounds great, just give us a minute to grab the rest of our stuff from the green room and cancel the limo that Brian had lined up to take us back to the hotel. Eddie hated it anyway, said it was pretentious.”

“That’s because it is fucking pretentious,” Eddie muttered.

“Ok, Beverly and I will go get the car and meet you guys out back?” Ben asked, taking Bev’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I’ll come with,” Bill said.

“Me too,” Mike added.

Richie nodded. “Ok, we’ll see you guys in a few then.”

He and Eddie headed back to the green room and gathered the rest of their things.

“That’s everything, right?” Eddie asked him.

Richie looked around. “Uh, yeah, I think so.”

“Ok, good.” Eddie turned towards the door.

“Eds, wait a second,” Richie said quickly.

Eddie turned back towards him. “What is it, Rich?”

Richie bit his lip. “Are you sure you want to go ahead and get married tonight? I don’t want you to feel rushed into anything just because everyone’s here.”

Eddie shook his head. “Yeah, I’m sure. We wasted so much time dancing around our feelings as kids, I spent the next 27 years feeling like half of myself was missing and not knowing why, then when we reconnected I was almost impaled by a fucking monster clown-spider, so yeah. I’m not putting anything else with our relationship off in case some other crazy shit goes down.” He smirked. “Besides, I want to spend the rest of my life annoying the shit out of my husband and the sooner I can do that the better.”

Richie grinned. “And I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life annoying the shit out of my husband.”

Eddie tugged him towards the door with a wink. “Then we better get going.”

#it: chapter two #it: chapter 2 #it: ch 2 #Reddie #richie x eddie #fix-it fic #tcmf writes #My writing #i love reddie so much y'all #these boys give me feels

103 notes · View notes

thoughtfullyyoungduck · 4 years

Text

Insecure butterfly

A/N: this was requested by anon, I’m sorry it took so long and it’s written so bad, but I hope you enjoy none the less! Let me know what you think! I based this on my own experience. If anyone has any requests, please send them to me!

Summary; Richie and Eddie’s daughter feel fat, and Richie and Eddie do their best to convince her otherwise.

warnings: bad self image, and curse words

The front door closes with a loud bang, as Richie tumbles trough it, a flower bouquet gripped tightly in his left hand. Among the flower bouquet is a combination of Zinnia’s, hibiscus and red saliva's, who granted don’t match, but they are Richie’s favorite flowers, and it’s only really meant to prove to Eddie and Calia that he thinks about them anyway, so they don’t have to.

He’s overcome with happiness, the sun warming every inch of his skin and making the world seem that much better and more welcoming, the smiles that have returned on everyone’s face at the first sighting of the heat resulting in one on his face too.

Summer has always been his favorite season, as a kid it was because it meant he was duty free, no school to worry about and no homework that he half-assed just to get it done. Summer was the equivalent to freedom, the losers and him always escaping to a place, mostly to the barrens, where parents couldn’t judge them, and there were no expectations, no rolls that they were forced into.

After the summer where Pennywise nearly killed them all, the season stopped representing joy, and instead depicted the dark, mind-numbing fear Richie had experienced for the very first time at IT’s hands. Then he forgot about IT, but his life dulled down so fully without his friend being there, that life was one long endless year he survived, barely taking notice of what the weather was like.

Re-meeting Eddie again after Mike called, caused summer to claim his rightful place as the number one time of the year once more.

So sue him for being excited that it’s summer break, but spending time with his family in the summer, to go camping or swimming, lit Richie up like a crystal ball, the inner child in him bubbling up to the surface. A list of things they can do holds Richie hostage, and he barely contains the excitement until he enters his home, trying to convey to the outside world that yes, he is a grown man and not a kid on Christmas eve.

He’s walking towards the kitchen, whistling a tune of a song Eddie hates, and Calia claims makes him appear even older then he is, searching around for his husband who by all means should have been home after dropping their daughter off with a friend.

Said husband ambushes him from behind, a hand gripping Richie’s bicep harder than strictly necessary, spooking Richie even when he tries to pretend it didn’t.

He turns around, his mouth halfway to making a joke already, but stopping once he spots the look of absolute dread coming from Eddie. At first he thinks it has something to do with Sonia, because even now that Eddie isn’t in contact with her anymore, devastation would still take a hold of him if something bad were to have occurred with her, but it’s not.

‘Our daughter’, Eddie says with a pinch of hysterics, ‘thinks she’s fat.’ His breathing comes in short gasps, which indicates that he’s about to have another panic attack, and Richie needs to hurry to distract him so he can steer it away.

‘I brought you flowers Eds. They smell all sweet and cute, like you.’ He decides on, shoving the bundle under his nose, attempting to make his smile as unsuspiciously as possible. Eddie takes to flowers and spares them a quick glance, before shoving them up the small table that’s mostly used for decoration, abandoning them for later.

‘I’m serious Rich, where did she even get that idea?’ He starts to pace up and down the room, sauntering in their living room where he resumes his hovering, deep in thought.

With a sigh, Richie follows him and takes a seat in their sofa. Of course what Eddie claims is concerning, but it wouldn’t be the first time that Calia entrusted him with something, and he was oblivious to the context in which it was said. Besides, at least one of them needs to be calm to resolve the situation, and it seemed like that task fell upon his today. ‘Did she say anything to you?’ Richie inquires, fishing for as much details as he can get. His earlier mood is completely obliterated, uneasy sitting in the pit of his stomach, despite his best attempts to stay focused.

‘No’, Eddie replies, sheepishly, as he comes to a stop and looks up at Richie guiltily.

‘Eddie, you can not spy on her.’

‘I did no such thing asshole’, Eddie defends. ‘I overheard her on the phone while she was in the car. There was no way that I didn’t hear anything, and it was not done on purpose.’ His hand chops in the air to accentuated his point, appalled at the accusation Richie made. ‘I’m not my mother.’

Immediately consumed with guilt, Richie scrambles off their couch, seizing Eddie’s hand in his to try and capture his eyes. The hurt that burns through him when Eddie snatches his hand away makes his feel even worse. ‘That’s not what I was trying to say Eds.’

With an eyebrow lifted, Eddie stares at him, as if daring him to spell out what he did mean then. His hands are fidgeting by his side, and Richie notices it right away, his own hands itching to comfort his husband.

‘I’m sorry okay? You could never be like your mom. A lot of parents check their kids phone Eds, that does not mean they’re your mother. I’m just against reading her texts, it’s her privacy. I should have realized that you respect her privacy as well and I’m sorry, but I will never, ever compare you to your mother okay?’

Eddie grunts, still a bit annoyed at Richie, but he accepts the kiss from him eagerly all the same, the anger draining out of him the second their lips touch. Privileged to be the one to have that effect on Eddie, but also understanding the severity of the situation, Richie struggles to detain a smile.

‘I’m sorry too, I was trying to pick a fight because I have no idea what to do with all this anxiety in me, but that was wrong.’ Eddie accounts for.

Richie shrugs it off, they have more important things to get too anyway, and he should have worded it better in the first place. ‘Well then we’re both sorry Eddie Spaghetti, now sit your cute ass down and tell me what happened.’

Relenting, Eddie trails after Richie, sinking down next to him, while he begins to tell the story from the start. ‘When I dropped her off this morning at Nina’s house, we were running a little late, so she called her to say that we were bound to arrive soon, and the two of them got talking. I don’t know what Nina said, I heard nothing of her side of the conversation, but Calia responded to her saying ‘I know that, but I’m too fat to wear such a thing anyway’, what the hell do we do Rich?’

Something bubbling up under the surface tries to make its way up, insistent and demanding Richie to accept it, to process it regardless of his tries not to.

Helplessness settles in in every pore of his being, prolonging his suffering and making his stomach turn violently. This somehow feels worse than Calia being sick, simply because there’s nothing really to be done.

Richie has spend more than enough of his childhood and adolescence hating the way he looked, and attempting to change all the things he didn’t like, revolted by the reflection that stared back at him, and followed him anywhere he went.

And it’s not something that anyone else can fix for you either. Eddie hadn’t been able to make Richie more confident, not for lack of trying, and everyone telling him that he was beautiful as a child only had an aversion effect. He was being unheard, his insecurities swept from under the rug like they were too much to deal with.

Claiming he was beautiful felt like an escape, an easy way out of conversation that everyone was too awkward to have. He wonders if perhaps it’s something genetic, something he passed on to his daughter.

The mom’s in the Facebook group I’m in said that we should take away all mirrors, is that something we should do?’ Startled by Eddie’s admission, Richie starts guffawing.

‘You’re in a Facebook group with all moms?’ He teases, words light with an blasé tone about them. His mind flashes back to years of not being able to view himself in the mirror, feeling nothing but shame whenever he did catch his own eye.

‘Don’t you fucking start Richie’, Eddie warns, but Richie succeeds in his intent, which was distracting Eddie from the serious issue at hand, and a tiny bit off lightheartedness reared its head, soothing him by the fact that he knew what it was like, and he might be able to help her.

‘Alright, Alright,’ Richie relents, for now, his arm up in a surrendering gesture. ‘Let’s just talk to her, and then we’ll see what she says. But Eds, we’re gonna need to handle this naturally okay? Don’t ambush her.’

‘Obviously not dickwad, if anything, it’s you that has to act normal.’

Without question, it’s Eddie that brings up the topic, not even a second after Calia arrives home. She finishes taking off her shoes, adjusting her grey sweater that she was wearing, as she follows the sound of Richie and Eddie’s bickering, the way she is used to them doing.

With a greeting wave, she crouches down to grab a water bottle in the fridge, uncapping the plastic and taking a big gulp.

‘We need to talk’, is the first thing Eddie declaims since she laid eyes on them. She stops mid swallow, her eyes turning wide and her face paling, full of worry.

‘You’re in trouble young lady’, Richie jokes in his best principal impression, before motioning her over. ‘Your dad is kidding, it’s just a talk, you’re not in trouble.’

‘Jees dad, I have anxiety, don’t do that.’ Calia says, her eyes rolling with vigor. She listens to Richie, her posture relaxing and her shoulders dropping, the worry’s melting away.

‘Great job Eds,’ he murmurs quiet enough that she doesn’t hear them, while still jabbing Eddie ins the side. Already, it appear as thought the conversation is not going to go the way they planned it.

‘So, what’s up?’ She asks, flitting her eyes between her parents, attempting to gauge them. Attempting to come across as nonchalant, Richie stretches out to the back of the sofa, his entire body splayed out sinking down.

It gives away more than he wants, the alarm bells going off in Calia’s head, an eyebrow furrowed in confusion, and the nervousness coming back. The eyebrow is something she has clearly mirrored from Eddie, and at times Richie speculates what she may have gotten from him and comes to the sick and twisted realization that mental issues, might be the answer.

He shakes himself out of his stupor, resigning it to a later time maybe tonight, as he would no doubt overthink everything right before sleep carried him off to sleep.

‘Your pops and I wanted to ask you about something I overheard in the car this morning.’

Becoming evident right away that Calia is appalled at the prospect of her father budding in a private conversation, Richie hurries to alleviate the situation.

‘He didn’t mean to listen in kiddo. It was an accident, but we still need to discuss it, it’s important. ’

Calia huffs, but stay silent none the less, and Richie takes it as his cue to continue.;

‘Your dad said that you said that you were fat’, Richie’s voice cracks at the end of his word, his stupid emotion getting the better of him as his heart breaks. In all his life, Calia was the most magnificent person, Eddie not taking into account, that he had ever encountered, and it was agony to know that she felt so less of herself.

Her face turns red, a blush coating both her cheeks, while she tensely glances around the room, avoiding eye contact. ‘So’, she mumbles, embarrassment creeping up her spine.

‘Why do you feel like that?’ Eddie prods, recalling some off the things he and Richie google searched before Calia get home.

She shrugs her shoulders, and Richie relates to her desire to get out of the situation fast. It’s not easy, to talk about the things that plague us so deeply, especially not with our parents of all people, but he knows that if they don’t talk about this now, they never will.

‘You can tell us, there’s no judgment in this house. Well except judgment on your dad’s cutnes, he’s 1000 percent guilty of that.’ He reaches over to pinch one of Eddie’s cheeks, hissing when his hand gets smacked away.

‘Hey, if you two are going to do, I’ll just go up to my room.’ Set out to escape the living room without her parents taking notice, Calia stands up inconspicuously, shuffling towards the door.

When both of her parents turn to watch her, and Eddie asks her to sit down again, she groans, but still does what is requested of her.

‘Can you tell us? I promise that if you confide in us this one time and we can’t help you or you feel to uncomfortable, then we won’t ever bring it up.

‘I just am okay? Like I’m a lot bigger than most of my friends, my stomach is protruding and I have a double chin. Compared to how you guys looked, and my friends it’s a simple fact that I am fat.’

Eddie has to swallow down his tears at her words, even when he squeezes his eyes closed to stop them that way. Granting him a minute to collect himself, Richie takes the lead. He himself discovers that it’s as hard being a parent as it is being the person who has low self-esteem. He finds himself rendered so useless.

Before he has a chance to even respond, he catches the words that Calia breathes out, like another kick to an already wounded puppy. ‘It’s not like any guy will ever want me either.’

‘Okay, don’t you ever fucking say that. Who the fuck cares if no guy, or girl wants you. They do, I know in the same way that I know you’re beautiful, but I also that right now that means nothing, and you think that I’m your father so I have to say that, so let me make clear to you what is true. You don’t exits to be a wife, that is not why you are born. You’re alive to brave through the world, and to leave the world a little brighter when you leave. If that includes having a boyfriend than okay, if it doesn’t than that’s that. A body isn’t functioning because you need to please someone, it’s such a complicated and crazy thing, but it works.’

While taking a deep breath, he uses his pause to stare at Calia’s eyes, conveying how much he means what he says.

‘Who created that extraordinary painting that won her top of her class, and resulted into it being displayed at in the art museum?’

‘I guess I did’, she concurs, her full and undivided attention on her dads.

‘Yeah, you fucking well did. And who wrote all those enthralling and peculiar poems that put uncle Ben to shame?’

Giggling, Calia point at herself with both her thumbs. ‘This girl.’

‘Yeah that’s right,’ Eddie buds in, finally able to get himself together enough to participate. ‘your body did that all in it’s own, and that had nothing to do with the way you look at all.’

‘I know this sounds like such a lie, but’s not. One day you will find someone that not likes you with your flaws, but because of your them. You’re not perfect, no one is, but you have such a wonderful soul, that everything else is added bonus. The guy that’ll date you in the future will have hit the jack pot, whether you’re skinny, or chubby or fat.’

‘That’s pretty fucking deep Pops.’ Calia messes with him, giving him a gentle push to throw him off balance, and break the serious tension that floats around the room.

‘Wow, you try and be nice to your children once and this is what I get as a think you?’ Richie complains sarcastically, pretending to cry and gain sympathy.

‘And don’t curse in front of our daughter Richie. How dare you?’ Eddie adds, the smirk turning the words from serious, to playful.

‘Thanks dads,’ Calia entrusts, enveloping both of them in her arms. Her insecurities won’t be gone overnight, but at least she knows she has her dads to remind her of the important things in life, and to emphasize how beautiful she is. When the family settles in or a movie night, outside, a butterfly makes it’s way up to the sky.

#reddie #reddie x daughter #reddie as parents #richie tozier imagine #eddie kaspbrack #eddie kaspbrak imagine #eddie kaspbrak as a dad #richie tozier as a dad #reddie fluff #My writing

75 notes · View notes