You often wonder about what your life would look like in film.
If it would be in technicolour of black and white; sepia, or muted tones? How the script writer would depict the people in your life as if they were only characters on a page waiting to be brough to life with gestures and actions and phrases, and how they would write you.
The opening scene would be dreary, perhaps, a slice of life cut out of a jig-saw puzzle and the audience is introduced to you through the north facing window of your childhood bedroom. The mid-afternoon sun would be peaking in through streams of golden rays, and the camera would pan over the sun-bleached timber window pane. It would catch on silver dust particles, glittering with a soft chime, and the camera would continue over the floorboards, panning over school books, your backpack, rain boots, and the discarded shoes belonging to you and your friend.
And you, instantly knowable, your secrets held close laid bare on your skin, stained in ink.
Like this:
1. EXT. We open on a bird’s eye view of a backyard in the suburbs. Two things are immediately distinguishable: one, the grass has not been cut in many weeks, possibly all of summer; two, this is a not a yard in which spare time is enjoyed in, however it once may have been – rusted swing set and a child’s tricycle.
2. INT. Camera pans left through a window into a teenager’s bedroom. A boy’s bedroom. Clothes and shoes lie carelessly forgotten on the floor, school books unthought of. The view becomes hazy with smoke when, finally, two boys come into view (16). Immediately two things are distinct: one, the boys are opposites in appearance, where one is tall and lanky the other is lean and average height, one dark haired, dark eyed, and the other light haired and light eyed; two; the boys are best friends.
(The boys are smoking. It is their first time doing so.)
RICHIE – dark hair, glasses
If you had to choose – one or the other what would you pick. Not having to eat but you’re always sleepy, or you never need to sleep but you’re hungry, like, all the time
[RICHIE takes a hit of the blunt, passes it to BILL]
BILL –blue shirt, a present stutter
That depends. Do I get to go take a nap, or is it, like, uh? Like narcolepsy?
RICHIE
Man, how is that even a question? The fuck, why would you choose to be hungry all the time?
BILL
[LAUGHING] That’s – okay, listen. Falling asleep all the time would be a nightmare!
[BILL passes the blunt back to RICHIE]
At least you could keep snacks on you all the time. Carry them around in a backpack. What would you do if you’re constantly falling asleep? Carry a pillow?
RICHIE
Wear a padded jacket?
BILL
Bubble wrap.
[Both laughing]
BILL’S POV. Bill’s eyes are stinging. Check wracking with giggles he rubs them with his fists, blinking away stars afterwards. Beside him, Richie lies flat on his back and stares up at the ceiling. Bill cannot see his eyes behind the thick black frame of his glasses but imagines them wide and blown, flickering around like he can see the same stars Bill does. His hand lies palm up on the floor between their bodies. Bill – high, dizzy, ditzy, stares at him for too long.
A feeling settles in Bill’s chest. He recognises it instantly.
He pretends he does not.
RICHIE
[Blowing smoke to the ceiling] So, what’s the verdict, Billy?
BILL
[Flicking RICHIE on his hip] I’ll go with hunger pains.
RICHIE
[Laughing, shaking his head] Fine. I guess I choose Necrolepsy.
BILL
Narcolepsy.
[RICHIE waves a hand in the air. He becomes distracted with his own fingers, and watches the sun beams stream through the small gaps.]
[BILL watches him, quietly]
BILL
I’ll carry around a pillow for you.
RICHIE
[Smiling] Thanks, Billy. I’ll keep some animal crackers for you in my pockets for when you get hungry.
BILL’S POV. His nose wrinkles. He likes it a lot when Richie calls him Billy.
FADE OUT.
~
(maybe this will be the movie where it ends with a comet hitting the earth)
Leaning against one of the ridiculous fake palm trees, clearly not listening to the conversation he’s caught in, is Bill Denbrough in the fucking flesh. Richie could have picked him out from a hundred yards away, with his floppy hair, perfect eyebrows and jawline that could cut crystal.
Richie hates everything about him.
the cruel irony of sunshine, written for the @itbigbang2019
summary: After eight years of radio silence, Bill Denbrough finds himself at the same Hollywood party as his once best friend, and his first and only love, Richie Tozier. As adolescent memories come flooding back, Bill has to decide what he wants to do with this second chance.
read it here!!
~
this is my fic for the @itbigbang2019 !! based on the beautiful artwork above by @whatidoisxsecret !! thank you so much to everyone who put this together, and a huge thank you to xan for being such an amazing artist and such a kind and wonderful person!! i had such a fun time writing this piece!!
Pairing: Bill Denbrough/Richie Tozier (Bichie)
Prompt: angsty unrequited type of situation with a happy and/or bittersweet ending.
My fill for @sinningtozier for the @it2ficexchange
Trigger warning for mentions of cheating and recreational drug use.
READ ON AO3.
Richie Tozier is fourteen years old, and he was kissed by Bill Denbrough for the first time. They were sitting down in the Toziers spacious basement. The last couple of weeks, since starting high school, Richie along with Bev, Stan and Bill had started dabbling in smoking weed. Eddie was always quick to turn up his nose at the mere thought and then launch into a rant about the harm of lung cancer. Ben, a little similarly to Eddie, seemed convinced that his mother would be able to take one look at him and now what they’d been doing. He was quick to duck out once somebody brought it out, always quick to cite a separate reason while everybody knew the truth. Mike would laugh off all his friends suggestions of him trying it, smiling to himself as though he had some sort of secret.
This evening, only Richie and Bill were left behind, with everybody else already on their ways home or somewhere else. Darkness had settled over Derry, Maine, and all the Losers knew it was dangerous place to be caught outside once the sun went down. The murders of 1989 might have stopped, and Henry Bowers might be sitting behind the walls Juniper Hill, but his minions still walked free and it just felt... sinister. This town was beyond ruined for the young teens that lived there, and they all often counted down the days until they were able to leave and never look back.
“Do you ever think about leaving this place, Big Bill?” Richie asked, resting his hands on his stomach. His high was rapidly falling, as Richie found was usually true. It was a though his brain couldn’t hold it even when it wanted to, always coming down much faster than any of his friends. Maybe his brain just moved too fast, his father always told him it did.
“Everyday.” Bill responded immediately. His stutter was always non-existent in moments like this, Richie had noticed more than once. While his stutter had gotten less obvious the older they got, but it never really went away completely except when it was just the two of them. That thought always made Richie feel like a little fuzzy inside.
“Where would you go?” Richie asked, still looking up at the ceiling a little pointedly. Bill was maybe closer to him than Richie had originally thought they were laying, he could feel the heat radiating off of him. “When you leave Derry?”
“As far away as possible,” Bill said with a sigh. “England, maybe. All the way across the ocean sounds good.” Richie hadn’t even had the chance to open his mouth before Bill was reaching out and pinching them shut.
"If you even think about doing the British guy right now, you’re not allowed to come visit me ever.”
Richie knocked Bill’s hand away, grinning toothily up at him. “Aye, matey, I would never be a visiting ‘ou. We’ll across the pond together.”
Bill scowled down at Richie’s terrible, slightly pirate-like, accent before his face softened at the words. Before Richie could really react to anything, Bill was leaning down and pressing his lips to Richie’s. It just a quick brush, then Bill was gone. Laying back on the ground with a simple, beep beep trashmouth.
★ ★ ★
Richie Tozier is fifteen years old, and he still fucking hated clowns. They were creepy, alright? There was something about those pale faces matched with all those bright colours that made Richie’s skin crawl. He told Bill Denbrough as much, when he linked his arms through Bill’s and pulled him away.
“Then why don’t you creep yourself, th-t-then?” Bill asked him with a chuckle. Richie let out a loud, mock-offended noise and moved to pulled away but Bill tugged at him. Tucked him back into his side. “Come on, let’s g-g-get hot dogs.”
Richie followed with Bill, tucked a little happily under Bill’s arm. After that stupid stoned kiss the year before, Richie’s crush on Bill Denbrough that he’d been ignoring since- well, probably since kindergarten- had bubbled itself up to the surface and was constantly chewing at his self peace. It didn’t help that Bill had never mentioned it again, making it clear to Richie that it meant nothing to Bill and everything to him.
Richie had chatted Stan’s ear off for a good couple of months after it had happened, which Stan had spent the time insisting that Bill did like Richie, he must have if he kissed him, and even trying to encourage Richie to ask Bill out. That had all fallen apart when Bill had dragged over some girl from his writer’s society, and introduced her as his new girlfriend. Richie had been crushed, but had avoided Stan’s looks of concern and pity, always quick to push aside feelings when they start to see even slightly troublesome.
That had been a few months ago, still, and Richie supposed that Bill and his girlfriend were still together, he’d mention her every couple of days of things they’d done, but Richie rarely saw her. She never sat with them at lunch or hung out with them outside of school. He’d sometimes get a glimpse of Bill walking with her in the hallways, and Bill now sat with her during history instead of Richie, but they weren’t the closest couple from what Richie was ever able to see. Didn’t stop it from stinging a little bit, the confirmation that kissing Richie was nothing to Bill.
Bill paid for Richie’s hot dog and drink, even though Richie had his own money from the part time job at the movie theater, and Richie smiled a little bashfully when Bill handed it to him. “I-I sort of h-h-hated carnivals, too. They’re t-t-too loud.”
“I’m too loud,” Richie answered without thinking, one of those little times when his personal insecurities came shining through his joking composure.
Bill turned to look at him, his brow furrowing. “You a-are loud.” He agreed, and Richie hunched in on himself slightly. “Bu-buh-but not too loud.”
Richie smiled, nudging Bill’s shoulder with his own. “Thanks, Big Bill.” Richie did something he knew he shouldn’t do, something that was wrong and not good. Bill wasn’t Eddie, who would laugh and then flip him off, but Richie still found himself doing it.
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Bill’s cheek. He pulled back quickly and offered up a small smile. He started turning away, but Bill cupped Richie’s chin and pulled him back. Kissed him on the lips. Richie let out a gasp as he felt Bill’s lips moving against his own. Richie melted into it, wishing he had a free hand, and pressed himself a little bit closer to Bill’s body.
Bill pulled back first, again, and licked his bottom lip. He cleared his throat, face burning red, and turned around. “Fuh-fuh-finish that huh-hot-hot dog, Tozier. I puh-puh-paid guh-good money for tuh-that.”
Richie stared at the side of Bill’s head in a daze as he took the hot dog towards his still tingling mouth.
★ ★ ★
Richie Tozier is sixteen years old, and Bill Denbrough had him pressed back into the couch cushions. Richie let out a harsh exhale of breath, turning his head to side while Bill’s mouth lacked onto Richie’s neck. Their hips might have rocking together, Richie wasn’t even sure, because it felt like Bill was everywhere.
It had been months of this, hang outs during into Richie and Bill alone at the end of the night, Bill leaning into Richie’s space, laying him down and kissing for hours until Richie thought he’d need Eddie’s inhaler to get a single breath. Knees feeling weak for hours after Bill went home. Heart racing in his chest like an injured bird that was trying to fly but couldn’t get off the ground
It was never anything more than this. Hot lips on lips, or neck, and hands touching under shirts. Bill always locked right up if Richie tried to move any further than that, not able to get any words out beyond his stutter in those moments. Richie knew what they were, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what this was. He knew that when Bill left his house, he’d make a nightly phone call to his girlfriend and tell her that he loved her.
Richie groaned, a noise not of any sort of pleasure, but of the sudden sick feeling settled in his stomach. Bill pulled off his neck, where an obvious mark was now sitting high enough that Richie would have to wear a fucking turtleneck to cover ti up. “Wh-what’s wrong?” Bill asked, wiping the spit off his mouth with the back of his hand.
Richie pushed at Bill’s head, forcing himself into a seated position and tugging at the curls on his head. He couldn’t look at Bill in this moment, suddenly felt that maybe he’d never be able to look at him again. “What are you doing after this?”
Bill’s face seemed to pale as he moved away from Richie’s body, putting that space between them. It felt so much more than it really was, Richie couldn’t remember the last time he’d been sitting on the same couch as Bill without their bodies touching. Bill sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “You know wuh-wuh-where I’m guh-going.”
Yeah, Richie knew. It would be nice if Bill would say it, though. Just once. Richie grabbed his hoodie that he’d stripped off when he’d got overheated while kissing, and tugged it back over his head. “You should probably go, then. Don’t want to be late for her.”
Bill blinked at him, then frowned. “I duh-don’t need to go for at luh-least an hour.”
Richie let out a little half sigh himself and stood up, starting to gather up the empty drink containers and dishes off the little coffee table. “You don’t want to be late. Go there smelling like me.”
“Wuh-we use the suh-suh-same sa-shampoo. She-she wuh-won’t nuh-notice.” Bill struggled to get the words out, and Richie was sure if he looked at Bill his face would be a deep red. But Richie simply stiffened, then threw the garbage a little harsher than necessary into the bin. “Are you okay?”
Richie shook his head. “You should just go, Bill. I can’t keep doing this. Find somebody else to cheat on your girlfriend with.”
Bill made an awkward noise in the back of his throat. An uncomfortable noise. Letting Richie know that his little reminder wasn’t welcome. “Yuh-you knew wuh-what this was. You nuh-never tuh-told me that-”
“I’m telling you now!” Richie cut him off with a sharp yell, dropping the trash bin to the ground and turning around to look at Bill. His friend- his whatever they were- was still sitting on the couch, hands hanging between his legs. His hair was a mussed mess and his eyes were sad, and he looked beautiful. “I’m telling you now. I can’t fucking do this anymore.”
Bill swallowed harshly, his shoulders tensing. “Okay.”
“Okay.” Richie nodded, once and moved outside to bring the garbage into the bigger can in the garage. When he came back into basement, Bill and all his things were gone.
★ ★ ★
Richie Tozier is seventeen years old, and he’d just gotten a promotion. It was just a position of longer hours at the theater, but he lived for it. The idea that he was good at something, could do something. Ever since Bill had kissed him the year before, and continued on dating his girlfriend, Richie had let himself slip away from the Losers. He loved his friends, he loved Bill, but he wasn’t going to let himself be the Other Person. Not even for Bill Denbrough.
“You look like shit, Tozier.” Stanley Uris’ voice carried over to him, and Richie sighed. He supposed the most awkward times for him was whenever his friends- old friends? No, just friends. Still his friends- came in to see a movie.
Richie forced a smile at his best friend, running his fingers through his messy hair. He winced at the dryness that he found, wondering for a short second how long it had been since he’d showered. “Ah, you know me, Stan the Man. Always looking like a mess.”
Stan clucked his tongue, looking skeptically at Richie for a long moment before shaking his head. “Everybody else is going to be here soon. I came ahead of them to warn you, in case you wanted to go hide in the back.”
It was a passive aggressive comment, not a genuine offer of escape and they both knew it. Stan and Eddie, in particular, had been supportive of Richie’s original departure from the group, believing that Richie needed some space and would soon be back. The longer that Richie was separate, the less they seemed to tolerate his absence. “I work here,” Richie replied to Stan a little stiffly. enjoying how Stan’s eyebrows raised up. “I’m not going to run and hide. If Bill doesn’t want to see me, he can find something else to do on Saturday nights besides see movies.”
“Bill doesn’t not want to see you, Rich.” Stan said quietly, his face opening up and looking a little softer.
“No, that’s the problem, I guess.” Richie said, knowing his voice was too sharp and that he had walls up around himself that Stan could see through without squinting. “The problem is that he does, and I can’t keep getting dicked around like that. It’ll kill me.”
A sad look settled itself on Stan’s face but he was suddenly interrupted by a small shout of “Trashmouth!” before Richie found himself with an arm full of Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie let out a surprised little laugh before a mess of red hair that could only be Beverly Marsh was attaching herself to him as well.
Richie greeted all of his friends, finding himself feel little in a way that he hadn’t in a while. Too long. His eyes fell onto Bill and he wondered if everybody could see the walls around him as they went up. “Huh-hey, Rich.” Bill said, his cheeks turning red.
Richie blinked at him, thinking for a moment about how much his friends knew about what happened. Stan and Bev, they knew everything, as Richie had told them. Called them after Bill had left that night, and they’d both sneaked over to sit with him while cried through most of the night. Stan Uris and Beverly Marsh, the only two people Richie would let see him at his absolute lowest. Had Bill told the others? Or were they completely in the dark to why everything had changed?
Something in his gut told him that Bill would never have told anybody about them, and his resolve to stay far the fuck away from Bill Denbrough hardened inside him. He put on a formal face, one that if the stunned expression Eddie gave him meant anything, was extremely convincing. “Our self service devices are out of order tonight, so you’ll have to buy your tickets up at the concession stand. Enjoy the movies, guys.”
Richie nodded with as much friendliness as he could muster, and turned to go find something to do when a hand grabbed his wrist. “Wuh-wuh-wait.” Bill said, squeezing Richie’s wrist. “Can I tuh-talk to you?”
Richie swallowed a little roughly, and gave a short nod to hesitating Beverly. As she finally walked slowly away, Richie looked at Bill and turned his customer service persona up to eleven. “How can I help you?”
Bill huffed out a breath, his eyes squeezing shut. “Richie, can you nuh-not be luh-like this? El-luh-lizabeth and I bruh-broke up.”
And well.. Richie had heard that. In a school as small as Derry High, it would have been impossible for him to have not to. It was all anybody talked about for three days, until David Miller sent Shauna Finchel’s nudes around and Billy and Elizabeth’s sudden break up was pushed aside. Part of Richie had wondered if Bill was going to come talk to him, but he refused to play with the idea that he was that important.
But now Bill stood in front of him, shuffling and looking oh-so guilty. Richie shook his head. “I’m not sure what you expect me to do with that information, Billy Boy. Are you offering her up to me, I help ease her through this tough time if you know what I mean.” Richie thrust his hips sexually and Bill just stared at him blankly.
“Richie, can you juh-juh-just...” Bill swore under his breath. “You can cuh-come back to the gruh-group, is what I muh-meant.”
Richie cracked his knuckles and tongued at his teeth. “Do you? All miss me.”
Bill clenched his jaw and furrowed his brow. “Yes.”
Richie bit his bottom lip and nodded.
★ ★ ★
Richie Tozier is eighteen years old, and he was standing on the old Derry bridge after graduating high school. He had Eddie Kaspbrak tucked under one arm, and was sharing a hilarious conversation about nothing with Ben Hanscom. There were after parties going on all over town, but the Losers were in no rush to get to to any of them. Everybody they really wanted to see was standing right here.
Richie glanced over his shoulder at where Bill was laughing loudly with Mike, palming a beer that Richie suspected that he wasn’t really drinking, and sighed a little louder than he’d intended. He felt Eddie shift underneath him and he looked down at Eddie’s little face, the other boy- or man? Were they men now? Richie didn’t feel like a man- looked oddly tiny with Richie’s bomber jacket on.
“Go talk to him,” Eddie said simply, offering Richie a smile. “You two are being idiots. Fix whatever’s broken here. I’m begging you, this weird pretending you don’t care about each other shit is getting old.”
Richie looked at Ben, half hoping his friend would be on his side, but Ben had already started nodding before Richie finished his turn. Sighing, Richie dropped his arm away from Eddie and shuffled over to Bill with his hands in his suit pants.
When Mike and Bill noticed Richie approaching, Mike patted Bill on the shoulder and he smiled at Richie as he moved to talk to Beverly and Stan. Richie gave Bill a small smile, opened his mouth and-
“Are yuh-you and Eddie duh-dating?”
Richie blinked and gaped at Bill, completely taken back by the question. He turned back to Eddie, who was sitting up on the railing of the bridge and cackling, and Richie spluttered out a laugh. “What? Eddie? No, fuck no. Eddie’s my little buddy.”
Bill flushed. “He’s wuh-wearing your juh-jacket.”
“He was cold!” Richie laughed, brushing his overgrown curls away from his face. “He weighs like fifty pounds, dude, and he was wearing a vest suit! Are Eddie and I dating... Jesus Christ, Denbrough. And I thought I had marbles for brains.”
“Yuh-you do have muh-marbles for brains,” Bill muttered, but while the attempt was there that attitude was not. Bill was still staring down at his feet with red cheeks. “I just thu-thought it would make suh-sense if you and Euh-Eddie were...”
Richie let out a harsh cackle, hunching over and wrapping his arms around his stomach. “Oh my God, stop. Stop. I’m going to fucking piss myself. Oh my God.”
“Stop laughing at me, dick weed!” Bill pushed at Richie, knocking him against the railing. It wasn’t a violent movement, both boys going up against it giggling.
Richie suddenly realized how close they were, faces almost touching. Richie gave him a grin. “Why so concerned about me and Eds? Ya jealous, Big Bill?” And it was a joke. Oh, was it a joke. Richie’s entire life was a joke, really.
“Muh-maybe.” Bill admitted anyway and Richie blinked at him. The two of them stared at one other, breath caught in their throats, until Bill grinned at him. “I duh-don’t want Euh-Eddie to get uh-over his cruh-crush on you for the luh-likes of you. It’ll be a bluh-blow to my ego.”
Richie laughed so hard he snorted.
★ ★ ★
Richie Tozier is eighteen years old, and he’s running through an airport waiting room. He, himself, will be leaving Derry forever in just three days. Well, not forever in truth. His parents still lived here, and he knew that for the next fours years he’d be coming home every summer and every holiday but... in three days, Derry would no longer be Richie’s home.
Bill Denbrough was leaving Derry that day. Within an hour or so, really. And not just Derry, no. Bill was going big, getting onto that plane and leaving Maine, leaving America. Richie had put off saying goodbye, not even going to Bill’s goodbye party
“Aye, matey, I would never be a visiting ‘ou. We’ll across the pond together.”
“BILLY!” Richie screamed as he caught sight of his friend moving up in the line of people waiting to board the flight to England. Bill turned and it was almost like it was happening in slow motion. His eyes went wide and he stepped out of the line, walking towards Richie as though in a daze as Richie ran at him.
“Rich...”
Richie nearly collided with him, but managed to skid to a stop just in front of him. He quickly stumbled forward, cupping the back of Bill’s neck and knocking their foreheads together. At some point during the last two years of alienation between them, Richie Tozier had grown taller than Big Bill Denbrough.
He could hear Bill’s take in a big breath and Richie felt like his whole body was shaking. “I’m gunna miss ya.”
“Fuck,” Bill whispered under his breath, hands gripping Richie’s hips. “I love you, Richie. I luh-luh-love you.”
“Now boarding flight 1-27 to London! Now boarding flight 1-27!”
Richie let Bill go, offered him a watery smile, and walked away without another word exchanged.
★ ★ ★
Richie Tozier was twenty years old, and for the first time he wasn’t going back to Derry for the summer break. He’d considered it, even though he had his own studio apartment out in Cali, but he loved his job that he wasn’t sure would hold a spot for him if he took off for three months. When Stan had told him he was only going back to two weeks in the end of July, Richie had decided to stay out in California.
As April came to an end, and Richie didn’t pack up his things and make the 2 day drive, was the first time Richie realized that Derry didn’t feel like home anymore. Outside of Stan and occasionally Mike, Richie barely even heard from the other Losers anymore. Eddie called him every couple months to catch up, always very long phone calls that they both complained about the prize but continued to do. Bev made trips out to California once a year, but otherwise they were strictly tag each other in memes friends these days. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to Ben Hanscom. Probably Thanksgiving the year before. And Bill...
Richie hadn’t heard from Bill since he’d left him in the Bangor Airport, and I love you too unsaid between them.
“Rich...?” Richie turned around as Jane, his girlfriend of nearly seven months, padded into the living room wearing nothing but his oversized AFRICA by TOTO t-shirt. “Are you coming back to bed?”
Richie smiled and nodded, following her into his future.
★ ★ ★
Richie Tozier was twenty-three years old, and he was opening his apartment door at the 3 in the morning to frantic knocking. Bill Denbrough stood on the other side of it, soaking wet and panting as though he’d run the entire way from England. Richie blinked at him for several moments before stumbling backwards and letting him into the apartment.
“Your fiancee left you.” Bill heaved out, staring at Richie with those big wide eyes. Five years since Richie had seen him, and somehow Bill Denbrough managed to make Richie’s heart stop in his chest.
“Uh yeah,” Richie said, head spinning from these sudden events that were taken place while his brain was still half asleep. “Yeah, like... Like, a year ago, dude...”
Bill seemed to flush, but the apartment was dark and Richie wasn’t wearing his fucking glasses so it wasn’t like he could really tell. “I just heard.” Bill said simply, raising a hand like he meant to touch Richie but stopped at the last moment,
“Takes a long time for information to travel across that big ol’ ocean, huh.” Richie said, half hoping he didn’t sound as bitter as he felt. But part of him hoped Bill could exactly what Richie was feeling.
“Go out with me.” Bill blurted out, suddenly sounding not unlike a young Richie Tozier, who’d yet to even try to filter his thoughts. Richie blinked at him and said nothing. “I know I... fucked everything... up between us...” Bill was speaking so slowly, Richie knew it was a tactic to help his stutter, but he sort of wished he’d just stutter through the words and get to the goddamn point already. “But I have... always loved you... and I would like to... try being together... please.”
“Do I get a say in this?” Richie asked snarkly and Bill frowned.
“Yes. The ball... is in your court... now... Tozier.” Bill said with a nod, moving back towards the door and walking out it. Richie watched him turn into a small blub and panic struck into his chest as realized fuck Bill was going to walk away.
Richie rushed out of the apartment, half blind and half dressed, leaving the door wide open. “Billy, wait!”
Summary: School is out for spring break, and the Losers are taking a week long trip to visit Beverly in Portland. Could there have been a worse time for Richie to realize that he was in love with his best friend?
Warnings: None? This fic is mostly just bill and richie being rowdy boys (explicit language, perverted insinuations, and general dumbassery), a bit of underage drinking
Pairings: Richie/Bill, established Mike/Stan, hints at Ben/Beverly
A/N: After I read the IT book, bichie shot way up my fave ships list. The fact that it took me 8 months to actually write a fic for the two of them is neither here nor there, but this fic was just a fluffy mess that was super fun to write! the next part should be up within a couple of days. Enjoy!!
also posted to ao3 here
“Freedom!” Richie shouted, flinging his arms wide. “Spring break is upon us and we are ready to party, aren’t we boys?”
“In moderation.” Stan said, Richie whirling on him incredulously as the group laughed.
“Moderation?” He asked back, sounding the word out slowly. “Stanley Mudstick Uris, why do you hate fun?”
“I’m not a stick in the mud.” Stan insisted. He glanced up at Mike’s face, bumping his boyfriend with his shoulder to get his attention. “I love fun. Tell Richie I love fun.”
“Stan loves fun.” Mike said obediently, grinning when Stan winked at him.
“Gross!” Richie pulled an exaggerated face. “Leave me out of your bawdy personal lives.”
“Stan’s right.” Eddie chimed in, from where he was walking next to Bill. “The only reason we can afford this trip is because Beverly’s uncle is letting us stay at his place for free. We can’t like… Get drunk and destroy his house.”
Eddie was right, but Richie didn’t want to admit that so he simply crossed his arms and fell into step next to Ben. Usually, the Losers had to wait until summer rolled around to get together, Beverly’s uncle always arranging the trip, buying the bus ticket and giving Beverly some spending money before sending her down to Derry. She stayed at Bill’s house, the Denbroughs grudgingly having to extend their hospitality to a majority of the Loser’s Club as well, because having Beverly in town was so rare and so wonderful that they all wanted to spend as much time with her as they could.
Richie had always assumed that the adults were all on the same page about the vacation arrangements, but they weren’t; when Beverly’s aunt found out that she was spending nights at a boy’s house, she’d very nearly blown a gasket. She was angry about it for a while, mostly at Beverly’s uncle for allowing it--though Beverly took some of the heat by pointing out that she’d been friends with them for years and “hadn’t gotten pregnant yet”— and the annual trip was cancelled. But the Club collectively decided that if Beverly couldn’t come to Derry to see them, they would just have to drive up to Portland to see her instead.
“Is everyone packed?” Ben asked. He’d had his suitcase ready for at least a week, Richie knew.
“Nope.” Richie answered, grinning in the face of Ben, Stan, and Eddie’s collective disbelief. “Come on, guys! Everyone knows that all the best packing is done at the last minute. All of the things you forget to bring makes the trip unforgettable and exciting.”
“Like the time you went camping with my family and forgot all of your underwear?” Bill asked. His voice had the cadence of a joke, but was lacking the liveliness to pull it off. Richie decided to ignore that, beaming at Bill instead and looping an arm around his shoulders.
“Exactly like that!” He said happily, Bill barely cracking a smile back. They were on Bill’s street now, still walking in a pack. Everyone seemed to have made the silent decision to ignore the turning roads to their own houses and keep Bill company for at least a while longer.
Bill was down in the dumps. His girlfriend of nine months had broken up with him just the day before, and from what Richie heard, it hadn’t been pretty; Mike was the only one around at the time to actually witness it. Secretly, Richie was glad for it, not that he would tell anyone so. The ex-girlfriend, Erika, had never liked him, seemingly more so than all of the rest of them. As a result, Richie had always found her to be a bit of a bitch. He didn’t want Bill to be with someone like her. Outwardly, Richie made sure he was compassionate and sympathetic.
Sort of. He was just overall happy, and hoped his positive energy would help put a smile on Bill’s face too. The jury was still out on whether or not it was actually working.
They reached Bill’s house, Bill taking his backpack off at the door and flopping onto the couch with a decided lack of enthusiasm. Richie didn’t really understand why he was so torn up about the breakup, but Richie himself had never really been in a long-term relationship before, so maybe something about that made it different. Not that nine months was super long-term. Or maybe it was; nine months was how long it took to grow another human person, after all. It might be three years in “adult relationship time”, or something.
“This time tomorrow, I’ll be putting my arms around Bev and giving her a huge smooch.” He declared, dropping himself down on the couch next to Bill. He knew Ben was giving him a look but ignored it, elbowing Bill’s side instead. “You gonna give her a smooch too?”
“Sure.” Bill muttered, noticeably distracted.
“You seem like you need a smooch. Want one from me, Big Bill?”
“What?” Bill finally seemed to tune in to the question, his face a sudden, firetruck red as he lurched away from Richie on the couch. Richie heard Mike and Stan both laughing.
“Don’t be gross.” Eddie reprimanded, but phrases like that were said to Richie so often that they all but bounced off him.
“But I think he needs a smooch, Eds! Pucker up.” He told Bill, leaning in. Bill made a disgruntled sort of noise as he was all but pounced on, catching Richie’s forearms with his hands and holding him at arm’s reach.
“Don’t deny our love, Billiam!” Richie exclaimed, leaning all of his weight into his attack, and Bill toppled over backwards, Richie landing on him. Bill still had him by the arms, but that defense had backfired; now Bill’s hands were trapped under Richie’s stomach, and their faces were close. Bill choked out a laugh, the sound breathlessly needy for oxygen due to Richie’s weight upon his chest, but it was a laugh all the same, lighting up his eyes a little. They stared at each other for a moment, at a bit of a stand still, Richie relishing in the grin he’d managed to put on Bill’s face. He considered completely following through with his threat--Bill’s lips were mere inches away--but didn’t, pressing a kiss to the tip of Bill’s nose instead.
Bill’s face lit up pink, and he closed his eyes, turning his head slightly as he laughed again.
“Fuck off, Rich.” He said, his smile growing the slightest bit more as he said the nickname, glancing up at Richie, and Richie’s breath all but stopped in his chest.
Bill was pink from embarrassment, pink from Richie kissing him, but there was a light in his eyes and a smile on his lips, and god, Richie’s brain had gone completely blank, aside from a golden sort of happy feeling and a rush of exceptionally smitten-toned expletives. Bill was gorgeous.
Bill’s body was firm and slightly arched, still pressed against Richie’s own and Richie scrambled backwards, suddenly terrified that Bill could feel how hard his heart was pounding. His hands now free, Bill stayed laying on his back, crossing his arms over his face, completely covering his eyes, and Richie just looked at him for a moment.
“Well, he’s smiling.” Mike pointed out. “Maybe he did need that kiss.”
“Doctor Richie always knows what’s best.” Richie said, the words coming out more as a reflex than anything, and sounding a bit too preoccupied. Eddie made a face.
“Don’t call yourself that.”
“But I’m Doctor Richie!” Responding to Eddie was easier than sitting here in his own blushy embarrassment, and Richie jumped at the chance to tease him, puckering his lips so that the words were slightly muffled. “Do you need your meds too, Spaghetti?”
“You kissing me would actually send me to the hospital.” Eddie answered flatly, Richie jumping up from the couch and grabbing Eddie in a headlock.
“I’ve got to go home, and I’m taking Eddie with me.” He announced to the group, resting his chin on the top of Eddie’s head. “Anyone else want to help me pack?”
“I can’t go into your room.” Eddie protested, but he didn't try to struggle away. “I’m not getting my tetanus booster shot until October.”
Richie ignored the jibe, and after Stan offering to come along, they set off. Richie was surprised by Stan’s company, but once they got to Richie’s room and Stan the Man simply fixed him with a look, Richie knew that he wasn’t actually going to get any help with packing at all.
“What the hell was that?” Stan asked, sitting on Richie’s desk.
“What the hell was what?” Richie asked back, feigning innocence. Stan raised his eyebrows.
“I think he’s talking about you mauling Bill, Richie.” Eddie supplied, not entirely unhelpfully, and Richie let out a long groan, falling face first onto his bed.
“Shut… Shut up.”
Stan let out a sigh, and Richie could only imagine the expression on his face.
“So you admit it. You do like him.”
“No!” Richie scrambled up into a sitting position. A better stance to defend himself in, he figured. “It’s Bill. It’s just Bill; he’s my friend. So of course I like him, like, friend-wise. I’m a touchy guy. Kissing him on the nose isn’t a big deal. That’s all. No big deal.”
He desperately wanted this to be no big deal. That the elation he’d felt when he heard that Erika and Bill had broken up was just good riddance to an evil witch, and not the alleviation of jealousy. The lurch in his chest at the proximity of Bill’s face, at the touch of Bill’s body. It was all no big deal.
Stan rolled his eyes, fixing Richie with a bemused expression.
“What?” Richie finally asked him.
“You’re rambling like an idiot, so I’m just waiting for your pants to catch on fire, liar.”
“Fuck off.” Richie said, while Eddie laughed. “He smiled at me, alright? I…”
“He smiled at you?” Stan gaped. “That’s your big defense?”
“I don’t like Bill, okay?!” Richie took a pillow from his bed and threw it at Stan, who just caught it from the air and threw it back. It knocked Richie’s glasses askew, only furthering Richie in his realization that he had no control of this situation; of this hole of realization he was digging himself in. “Just because… Just because I--”
“Because you can’t stop staring at him?” Eddie supplied. “Because you just, I don’t know, tackled him on the couch and kissed him on the nose?”
“I watched you look way too long at his ass yesterday.” Stan deadpanned. Richie threw another pillow at him, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling.
“You guys are delusional.” He insisted. “It’s nothing, I’m telling you. He’s smiled at me a hundred times. Maybe a thousand times! I don’t--”
Richie cut himself off, the realization that he's possibly been on the receiving end of a thousand Bill Denbrough smiles making his insides fill with a combination of affectionate mush and nervous butterflies. He covered his face with his hands.
“You’re pathetic.” Eddie informed him.
“He's cute.” Richie mumbled through his fingers. “I think he's cute, okay? But that's it! I think Eddie is fucking adorable, and that's harmless enough, isn't it?”
“Sure, that's fine, but you don't want to suck Eddie's dick.” Stan said flatly.
“Stan!” Richie yelped, falling off his bed. He hit the floor with his hip and his elbow and winced. “I wasn't fucking thinking about Bill's dick.”
“And now you are. You're welcome.”
“You're a goddamn menace.” Richie said through gritted teeth, and Stan just grinned, because yes, Richie was thinking about it now. He was thinking about Bill, his eyes closed and his face flushed, his skin pink all the way down his chest, his hands in Richie’s hair.
“Hey.” Eddie snapped his fingers in front of Richie’s face, the sound loud and close. “Don’t fucking have any fantasies while we’re here.”
“It’s Stan’s fault.” Richie mumbled defensively, and went back to lying face down, but on the floor this time. “He’s Bill. He’s one of my best friends! How am I supposed to be his friend if I can’t stop thinking about his ass?”
“I did it.” Eddie said with a shrug. “It wasn’t too hard. I mean, he had his thing with Beverly going on at the time, so I never said anything, but--”
“Never said anything! No kidding Eds, really? You liked Bill?” Richie looked at Eddie first, then to Stan, who seemed thoroughly unsurprised by the news. So unconcerned, in fact, that Richie realized that this wasn’t news at all. “When?”
“Since I met him, maybe, until a couple years ago.” Eddie answered with a shrug. “He kinda made me realize I didn’t like girls.”
“Oh, shit. Why didn’t you ever tell me that Bill was your sexual awakening?”
“Because you would have made fun of me.”
“Me? Why would I tease you about wanting Big Bill’s big--”
The rest of Richie’s sentence was muffled as Eddie stepped on his face. After the sixth joke at the expense of Eddie’s old crush Eddie and Stan declared themselves to be leaving, the both of them reminding him to pack a suitcase as they stepped out the door. But Richie just returned to his bedroom floor, watching his fan make slow circles on the ceiling and letting his mind wander. His thoughts never strayed far from Bill Denbrough.
It was late in the evening when his house phone rang. Richie sprang to answer it.
“Pip pip and tally-ho! Richie Tozier speaking.”
“Oh my god.” Came a voice, though there was an amused tone to it. “I miss your stupid ass.”
“Beverly!” Richie beamed. “Can’t wait to see you tomorrow, girl!”
“Right back atcha.” Beverly sighed. “I talked to Bill earlier, finalizing stuff, and he mentioned that you hadn’t packed yet. So I wanted to check in. Got that stuff in a suitcase yet?”
“Not… Exactly.” Richie was so far behind on the packing process that he didn’t even know where in his house his suitcase was. In the garage somewhere, maybe. Or in his closet. “But I don’t really need to bring anything, you know? I’ve worn your clothes before. I could do it again.”
Beverly laughed. “That might be a bit too fashion forward. I don’t think the city of Portland is ready for Richie Tozier in a sundress that definitely does not fit him.”
“Most cities aren’t.” Richie admitted. Beverly laughed again, a lull falling in conversation. Richie was about to open his mouth, figuring he’d realize where the sentence was going after he’d started it, when Beverly spoke up instead.
“So, about Bill.”
“Wha-what about him?” After thinking about Bill for the past couple of hours, it was weird to hear someone else mention his name out loud.
“Didn't his heart get completely curb-stomped the other day?” Beverly asked. Richie let out a breath.
“Oh, right.” The breakup.
“I asked him if he was alright, and of course he said that he was fine, but I'm not going to believe him. What do you think?”
“He's kinda sad, but he'll be okay.”
“Yeah.” Beverly sighed. “A girl like that isn't worth being upset over.”
Richie raised his eyebrows, though he knew Beverly couldn't see it.
“Yeah?” He asked hesitantly.
“Come on Richie. We all know you hated her.”
“She hated me first!”
“Everyone kind of hates you at first.” Beverly said, but there was an amusement in her voice that kept the blow from stinging. “But from what I've heard, she was a bit of a bitch.”
Richie let himself fall into one of the chairs in the living room, the phone cord barely long enough to let him sit down.
“I am so glad you said that.” He murmured, and Beverly burst out laughing.
“So you do hate her!” She exclaimed.
“She's a bitch!” Richie exclaimed back, Beverly falling into giggles across the line.
“I mean, I've never met her, but the way she always disregarded Bill's sexuality, but then always accused him of cheating whenever you guys hung out together, it's--”
“Wait, what?” Richie interrupted, positive he'd misheard her. There was a frown in Beverly's voice as she answered.
“How she told Bill he was just confused when he told her he wasn't only attracted to girls? They fought about it a lot, I heard.”
“Bill… Bill likes guys?” Richie asked slowly. He felt as though he'd been hit over the head with a steel beam. “He's only dated girls. He's not just into girls?”
“He…” Now Beverly was talking slowly, sounding concerned. “He never told you?”
“No.”
The silence was deafening. Richie was biting so hard on the side of his tongue that there was an ache in his jaw when Beverly spoke again.
“I just--I just thought--and all the other Losers know, I swear we've talked about--I would never out him on purpose, I just figured--”
“Beverly.” Richie said quickly, able to hear his friend spiraling.
“You two are so close, I just figured he would have told you.”
“I… Yeah.” Richie didn't know what to think. He and Bill had been friends for years, been close for years; he didn't blame Beverly for thinking that he would know something that Bill had apparently told everybody else. Something he had told all of the Losers but him. “No, he's never told me. Or like… Insinuated anything, even. We all make jokes to each other and stuff--hell, I kissed him on the nose today--but…”
Richie trailed off, his mind full of racing thoughts that overlapped and crashed into each other, conglomerating together into a huge mass of holy shit and and an overload of question marks.
“...you okay?” Beverly asked after a moment. The question drew Richie from his thoughts, and he gave his head a little shake.
“Yeah, yeah. But I've gotta pack, alright? I'll see you soon.”
Beverly was quiet for a long moment, as though she was considering Richie's attempt to escape the conversation and wondering whether or not to let him go.
“Alright.” She allotted, and Richie gave an internal sigh of relief. “See you tomorrow, Richie.”
The line went dead, but Richie stayed sitting in the chair, feeling slightly shell-shocked. Bill likes guys. Bill likes guys.
It took a long, long time for the knowledge to sink in, to feel like a reality, simply repeating the phrase over and over in his mind, going over what Beverly had said, wanting to make sure he wasn't misinterpreting the words. Then, after that, he knew he needed to let Bill know. Bill deserved to be aware of who knew and who didn't, trying to concoct a joke that wasn't too insensitive. Distraction came fast and frequent as he paced around his house, half lumping together some of the essentials he would need for the trip, half thinking about the fact that fuck, Bill likes guys. He didn't start genuinely searching for his suitcase until well past midnight.
“Rise and shine, fucker!”
The rude greeting cut through Richie's subconscious, and even in his barely-awake state, he recognized the voice as Eddie's. It was followed seconds later by violent hushing, and Ben's voice, considerably quieter.
“His parents are awake.”
“Oh shit, that's right.” Eddie muttered back.
“How fucking early is it?” Richie grumbled at the two of them, still unwilling to open his eyes.
“It's already after eight, you lazy asshole.” That was Bill's voice, and in spite of himself Richie felt a smile tug at his lips, opening his eyes a crack. The three of them were standing next to his bed, Eddie by his head and Ben by his feet, Bill in the middle. “We came to get you last. Mike already put your suitcase in the car.”
“How thoughtful. You guys doing all the work for me.” Richie extended his arms dramatically towards his friends. “I think you all should carry me to the car, too.”
Eddie slapped his hands down, telling him to shut up, while Bill laughed.
“Come on, get out of bed Richie.”
Richie stuck his tongue out. “No.”
“Bite me, Tozier.”
“Where, Denbrough?”
“Oh, fuck you.” Bill met his eyes, and Richie was delighted to see a bit of a blush on his cheeks. “Get up.”
“Make me.”
Barely a second passed, as though Bill was considering his options, and then Bill jumped on him.
Bill's landing hurt, bony limbs hitting bony limbs, Bill's elbow digging into his stomach. Richie let out a yelp, struggling under him, able to hear Bill's quiet laughter close to his ear. Then Bill's fingers found his sides under the mess of blankets, one hand traveling up his shirt, and Richie yelled out a curse.
He slid from the bed and onto the floor, where Ben grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.
“Not fair!” Richie exclaimed. Bill sat up in his bed, a triumphant grin on his face, his hair wonderfully disheveled.
“Not my fault you're the most ticklish motherfucker in existence.” Bill said, and with Eddie leading the way, they marched him out of his room. He yelled a goodbye to his parents, and while he knew they would be upset with him for not stopping into their room to say a more proper farewell, now that he was upright, he was excited and ready to go. They were going to go visit Beverly.
Mike and Stan were kissing up against the hood of the car when they got there. Richie wolf-whistled as they walked up, but Stan simply took one of his arms from around Mike's neck and flipped him off. They all piled into the car, Mike driving and Stan in the passenger seat, Eddie clambering into the back row with all of the suitcases, leaving Bill, Richie, and Ben to squeeze across the middle row together. Richie found himself between the two of them, and while the drive was only going to take two hours, he began to worry about bothering them with his restlessness.
As it turned out, Ben was the more restless one, too eager to arrive and see Beverly again. Bill was an exact opposite, his head drooping, and after a mere fifteen minutes, he was asleep.
For a couple of moments his head simply lolled before Mike took a turn and he leaned, falling against Richie's chest. Unwilling to let Bill fall forwards, Richie reached an arm around Bill's shoulders, pulling him close. Bill let out a breath that sounded like a sigh, resting against him more comfortably, and Richie's heart leapt in his chest, realizing something that should have occurred to him last night, but had been largely overshadowed by the other news.
Bill liked guys… And Richie was a guy.
A wild, giddy excitement coursed through him for a couple of moments, looking down at Bill's sleeping face. He looked so pretty, his expression peaceful, his eyelashes resting against the soft skin of his cheeks. Richie's eyes caught on his lips, and he wanted to kiss Bill so much that it hurt.
A cough from the front of the car interrupted this wishful thinking, Richie looking up to see an expression on Stan's face that told him he wasn't exactly being subtle. Richie was equal parts annoyed and grateful by Stan's attempt to help him keep himself in check, sighing and directing his attention out the window instead. His mind wandered to his conversation with Beverly for the umpteenth time, remembering her surprise at his ignorance.
"You two are so close, I just figured he would have told you.”
Now that the shock of the information was wearing off, this bit was nagging at him. The completely unexpected secrecy. It was a selfish thought, the idea that Richie was entitled to Bill's life, to the privacy of Bill's thoughts, but he couldn't help but feel upset. Because this wasn't a secret that Bill was holding from everyone. Beverly had known, and from the way she had talked about it, so had everybody else. Bill had even told that she-devil of a now-ex-girlfriend. Bill had told everyone but him.
Which meant one thing: he didn't want Richie to know. The question was why.
Because he doesn't like you. His mind supplied, helpful as always. He didn't want you to think you had a chance. Because you don't.
That may be true, but that didn't mean Richie wanted to hear it. Richie knew that whatever the reason, he shouldn't even be troubling himself with this; he should feel bad for Bill, for just being broken up with. He should worry about his friend being sad. That should be his most pressing concern. Rationally, Richie knew he had no reason to feel so upset, and he recognized that.
He was upset anyway.
The ride was a short one, and before any of them knew it, they had arrived. It was easy to find Beverly’s uncle’s house because Beverly was standing in front of it, and began jumping up and waving as soon as they started up the street. Stan rolled down his window.
“Beverly!” He exclaimed at her, and she beamed, running up to the car as soon as they were in front of the house. The shout startled Bill awake, jolting up off him, looking out the window instead of looking Richie in the eye.
Beverly hugged them all and kissed their cheeks in the order that they left the car, and as a result Richie was third person to greet her, wrapping her tight in his arms and pressing a kiss to the side of her head.
“I missed you so much.”
“I know.” She answered with a little laugh. She pulled back, looking him over, her expression a little more serious. “About Bill--”
“I haven't told him yet.” Richie said quickly. “I didn't really know how, but I--”
“Let me do it then. It's my fault anyway.” She said quickly, giving him a quick pat on the cheek before stepping past him to get to Bill, who had just gotten from the car. Richie watched them for a moment, Beverly hugging him before stepping back, pushing his bangs from his forehead, holding his hands, all while talking quietly. Bill's eyes widened, flicking to Richie for a moment, and a rush of fear went through Richie's chest, averting his eyes, jerking away to help Ben with the suitcases.
Mike was the last one from the car, lifting Beverly up in his arms to carry her inside. They crossed the threshold bridal style, Richie cheering and clapping for them, making both of them laugh. He was still trying not to look at Bill, because he could still feel Bill's eyes on him.
“Hey, boys.” Beverly's uncle was in the kitchen, catching their attention with the greeting. He was a short man, balding around the top, his hair light and thin. He had a nice, good natured smile though, and Richie smiled back at him.
“Thank you so much for letting us stay, sir.” Mike said, ever the gentleman, putting Beverly back down on her own feet. Everyone followed his lead, thanking him as well, but he waved them all off.
“Of course. I know how much Beverly cares about all of you. It just wouldn't be fair, otherwise. I'm going to duck out, and let you all hang out for the night, and I just have a couple or rules.”
They nodded in unison, and he laughed at them a little before continuing.
“Clean up after yourselves. No drugs, no sex, and if you're going to drink, do it in the house. But if you do, you'll have to pay me back for whatever liquor is gone, and don't any of you throw up on my favorite chair.”
He pointed, all of them following to see a well worn leather recliner in the living room behind Eddie. Eddie sprung away from it, and Beverly's uncle laughed again. That was the end of his list, greeting them all individually to get their names--or, to put faces to the names he'd heard from Beverly, to put real people to all the pictures he'd seen--on his way out. At the door, he paused.
“Check in with me before you go out anywhere.” He said, but this was directed at his niece only, Beverly nodding back. “And if you do get up to any shenanigans… Don't tell your aunt about them.”
The last sentence got a laugh from Beverly, and after that he was gone.
“He's staying the night at a hotel.” Beverly explained. “He said he didn't want to bother us.”
“He seems cool.” Stan said, and Beverly nodded.
“He is. My aunt is great too, but she's more protective, I guess. It makes sense that she would be, being my mom's sister. I'm just glad that he stuck around, even after they got divorced. I was a little nervous about him at first, but he's everything that my dad, you know… Wasn't. He makes my aunt's overbearing personality a little more manageable.”
They began moving their suitcases from the living room, trying to figure out where to stash their stuff. The house had two bedrooms, Stan and Mike instantly branching off into one of them. Richie ran into the second one, flopping onto the bed.
“If Richie's sleeping in here, I'm taking the couch.” Eddie declared.
“Eds! I thought you loved me!” Richie wailed, just for the drama of it, and Eddie let out a snort.
“I do, dickwad, but I can't share a living space with you. Your messiness makes my eye twitch.”
“Mind if we share the couch?” Beverly asked Eddie. “For tonight, at least. I brought a bunch of blankets over.”
“I'll stay in there too.” Ben said quickly, Richie's stomach sinking as he realized what that meant. There was only one other option.
“I guess we're roommates.” Bill said, throwing his hoodie at Richie's head. It landed there, covering Richie's face, and for that Richie was grateful. He still hadn't really looked at Bill yet.
There were sounds of the others leaving, and Richie was alone, he figured, letting out a long sigh. Then a weight settled on the mattress, heavy, near Richie's legs.
“So, uh…”
Fuck. It was Bill, goddamnit, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“Yeah?” Richie supplied, horrifyingly unhelpful.
“Beverly t-told you.” Bill said quietly, both matter-of-factly and questioningly at once, as though he wanted to know Richie's thoughts, but wouldn't change, regardless of what those thoughts were.
“I… Yeah.” Richie said again. It was achingly quiet for a second, and then Richie realized how shitty of a response that was, sitting up fast. The hoodie somehow stayed on his head, the strings hanging down in front of his face. “But like, it's fine. Of course it's fine. I'd be a gross goddamn hypocrite otherwise, and anyway, Beverly didn't mean anything bad by it, it was an honest mistake, she just thought…”
She just thought I already knew. The words got stuck in Richie's throat halfway through, because they led to a plethora of difficult questions, the front-runner being why didn't you tell me?
Then Bill met his eyes, looking fully at him for a moment before his face folded into laughter, the happy sound leaving him as he leaned slightly closer, his eyes falling closed.
“What?” Richie asked, unable to help feeling amused himself.
“You look hilarious.” Bill told him, reaching up to bat at one of the hoodie strings. It swayed in front of Richie's face, and instantly the tense and anxious mood was broken, Richie laughing too.
The seven of them spent the evening in the living room together. Beverly ordered pizzas and they piled onto the blankets she brought, talking, filling each other in on what they'd missed while they'd been apart. Beverly was in the middle about some story about her two young nephews--one eight, the other ten--when Stan stopped her.
“Hold on. If you couldn't keep coming to Derry because you were being left alone with us, then how come you're allowed to sleep over here?”
“Well, my aunt thinks my uncle is here too.” Beverly began, then adopted a slightly awkward expression, her eyes shifting to the side, with a bit of a grin. “And… She also kinda thinks I'm a lesbian now.”
“Are you?” Eddie asked, and she shook her head.
“What Bill and I had was very real.” She declared dramatically, draping an arm around Bill's shoulders. Bill laughed, resting against the embrace for a moment before she continued. “But I mean… I did kinda have a girlfriend for a few weeks, a couple months ago.”
Richie felt his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. Beverly hadn't told him that--what was with people leaving him out about this stuff?--but he noted, with a slight feeling of relief, that it didn't look like she'd told anyone else, either.
“Yeah?” Mike asked, his eyebrows raised. The mood in the room was slightly tense; Richie could feel Beverly’s discomfort as she waited for them to respond to her confession, as well as the awkwardness from the rest of his friends as they tried for both supporting and nonchalant at the same time. Well, except for Ben, who was going for the complex mixture of supportive and brokenhearted.
“Yeah.” Beverly answered. “She was really cool, but we didn’t really click.”
“What’s kissing a girl like?” Eddie asked, a grin on his face. “Will I like it as much as my mom keeps insisting I will?”
There was a chorus of laughs, and just like that, the tension broke. Beverly reached over, ruffling his hair.
“I thought it was pretty damn great, but doesn’t seem like your thing.” She told him, winking, and Eddie grinned back.
Conversation shifted all over again, the seven of them wandering around different topics for hours while they slowly melted into the pillows and blankets around them. Richie was squished between Eddie and Mike, and was getting increasingly more comfortable the longer the night wore on, happy to be with all his friends. There was an indescribable, unbeatable feeling that came when all of them were together; a feeling of completeness, and Richie nestled himself in it, allowing it to glow within him, and when the early hours came, he felt himself drifting off.
When Richie woke up the room was dark, and all of them had been completely swamped in the mess of bedding and couch cushions that had gotten more haphazard as they'd all moved in sleep. Eddie’s head had shifted onto his stomach at some point in the night and was compressing his ribs and other organs in a rather uncomfortable way, Richie guessing that sensation was what had woken him up. He shifted towards the center of the group, pushing himself away from the couch with his legs and ramming his head into something hard.
Wincing and hissing out a curse, Richie found that the hard thing had been Bill’s knee. Bill was resting on his side, but at the collision he murmured in his sleep and rolled, laying now on his chest. And Richie was now faced with the realization that Bill’s butt was there, just there, right next to him. So he lifted his head up, and after a moment, plopped his head down onto it.
Bill shifted again.
“I, fuckin--” His voice was rough in the best way, sleepy and slightly confused. He lifted his head up just a bit, just enough to turn and see what was happening. When he did, he let out a sigh.
“I hate you, Richie.” He mumbled, but made no move to force Richie off him, and Richie just grinned.
“Love you too, Big Bill.”
“Yeah.” Bill’s voice was nothing more than a murmur; he must have been going back to sleep. “I know.”
Richie let his own eyes fall closed.
When he woke up again, it was late in the day. His head was on a pillow now, and Stan was staring down at him.
“Howdy, Stanley.” Richie said, putting a southern twang in the words. Stan nudged Richie's side lightly with his foot.
“Get up. Mike made food.”
It wasn't until Stan mentioned it that Richie noticed the air, smelling of warm waffles and bacon. He let out a groan, stretching and sitting up.
“I'm gonna marry your boyfriend.” He told Stan, who raised his eyebrows, a grin on his face.
“I'd like to see you try.”
Breakfast was amazing, and while they ate they tried to think of what to do with the day. All attempts at brainstorming got quickly derailed by other conversation, and it soon became too late in the day to put any grand plans into motion, settling on going to a thrift store with Beverly.
It was a fifteen minute walk, Stan and Mike entwining hands as soon as they all stepped outside. There was a chorus of faux hurling sounds from all of the rest of them, Mike kissing Stan’s cheek in retaliation to their teasing while Stan lifted the middle finger on his free hand and waved it around. Beverly stepped to the head of the pack to lead the way and fell into a conversation with Ben and Eddie, and Richie ended up behind them next to Mike. It was fine for a little while, listening to their talk and interjecting with something witty where he could, but he soon got tired of watching Ben and Beverly’s hands touch lightly before jumping away again, heaving a sigh and looking for something to do.
His eyes landed on Bill, who was on Stan’s other side and laughing about something. As nimbly as he could, Richie snuck behind him, reached around, and poked Bill’s cheek.
Bill blinked in surprise for a moment, as though he had to take a second to process what had just happened. Then his face broke out into a smile, a smile that was completely paralyzing, and he jabbed Richie in the neck in retaliation. Richie squawked in shock, jumping away, Bill’s loud laugh following him. They poked at each other all the way to the store, Richie ignoring the pointed looks he was getting from both Eddie and Stan.
As they entered the store, Richie more or less followed his friends as they wandered around. He was rather bad at buying himself clothes, having too much fun holding up odd clothing he found to show the others. Most were t-shirts in awful colors or with funny things on them, and ended up purchasing one: a bright orange shirt with badly drawn q-tips scattered in a pile, the words ‘JUST THE TIP’ curved over them in bold blue lettering. Richie said that it was hilarious. Stan said that as soon as they got back to Derry, he was going to burn it.
“Aw, you just wanna get me outta my clothes!” Richie said, putting on the southern bell voice he’d used towards Stanley earlier, batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly and swiping a hand at him, showing off his horribly paint-chipped fingernails.
They left the store two hours later, none of them with many purchases, but the trip was still a fun adventure. Beverly suggested going to an ice cream parlor around the block. She had ended up with the most stuff, somehow able to sort through all the clothes to find cute, vintage things in her size. Richie suspected she had some kind of fashion-sonar ability.
Once they all had their ice cream in hand, they took a quick walk to the nearest park, squeezing together around a small picnic table to eat. Spring break in Portland wasn’t exactly warm per se, but ice cream was a year-round snack no matter what.
Richie only stayed seated for as long as it took to chomp down on the ice cream and demolish the cone--getting called a monster by Stan, Eddie, and Beverly for being able to use his teeth on something that cold--before hopping up again. Then he went back to bothering Bill like it was his job.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Richie knew he might be acting annoying, or too obvious, or something otherwise related, but he couldn’t help it. He just--he couldn’t stop touching Bill, couldn’t stop wanting his attention, and didn’t have the self control needed to reign himself in. But even so, he supposed it was harmless, right? Hell, he was even making Bill laugh. That had to be a good thing.
The poking continued, quickly escalating to tag now that they had an entire park to run through, and while Richie’s legs were longer, Bill had better stamina. Bill’s hand connected with Richie’s back, interrupting his attempt to lurch away, causing him to trip on a little bit of grass and a whole lot of nothing and tumble to the ground.
Bill stopped next to him, bent forwards slightly and letting out a breathless laugh.
“Alright, Rich?” He asked, meeting Richie’s eyes. The fall hadn’t really hurt, but Richie stayed on his back, unable not to watch Bill’s parted lips as he breathed, the small line of sweat running down his cheek from his temple. Despite not getting an answer Bill didn’t ask again, reaching a hand down to help Richie up. Richie grabbed it, but tightened his grip and used it instead to pull Bill down.
That did hurt a little, the bony frames of two teenage boys colliding with each other. Bill tried not to fall on Richie, but Richie refused to move out of the way, and as a result one of Bill’s knees planted into Richie’s stomach. The other knee landed clear of him, on one side of his waist, Bill’s free hand hitting the ground hard next to Richie’s head.
“Jesus, Richie--” Bill started, but before Richie could get too caught up in having Bill hovering over him, he let Bill’s hand go and dug all ten of his fingers into Bill’s sides. The sound Bill made was a wonderful mix of a curse, a laugh, and a shout of his name as he tried to roll away from the tickling and grab at Richie’s hands at the same time. It was fun, Bill was laughing, skin touching skin as they wrestled in the grass. Richie got breathless fast, Bill pinning him to the ground and grabbing his wrists with a victorious sort of laugh.
“Do I win?” Bill asked, as Richie’s--admittedly, half-hearted--attempt to squirm away proved fruitless. Being in this position didn’t feel like a loss in the slightest, but Richie had a facade to keep.
“Bite me, Denbrough.”
“Where, Tozier?”
And that--that was too much, especially in the way Bill had said it, with the conquering grin on his lips. And maybe Bill could feel it, with the way his grip on Richie’s wrists slackened, the way his cheeks and neck began to flush.
Before Richie could react however, there was a wolf-whistle from the table where the rest of their friends were sitting, and the reality of the situation fully sank in. Bill shot up off him like a bottle rocket.
“This is the public indecency police!” Eddie called out. Richie didn’t have the energy to get up, laying flat on his back in the grass. He lifted up his arms to flip them all off for interrupting whatever the hell had just happened, and stared up at the cloud-scattered sky.
Dinner was mostly Mike trying to teach Bill and Ben how to do various things in the kitchen. Stan was watching, a little too enamored by Mike’s kind display of patience, and Eddie was flitting around in an anxious attempt to keep any cutting board cross contamination from occurring. Richie was just sitting on the kitchen table, watching Bill’s concentrated expression as he attempted to dice a clove of garlic, his staring interrupted as Beverly grabbed his arm and yanked him none too gently into the living room and out of earshot.
“You like Bill!” She accused. Before Richie could attempt any denials, excuses, or explanations, she continued in the same breath “--and you didn’t tell me!”
“I haven’t told anyone!” Richie protested. Then he realized he’d admitted it--though he wasn’t sure why denying it had even been a part of his plan--pushing his free hand through the mess of curls on his head. “Is it that obvious?”
“So obvious. Like… Kind-of-gross level of obvious.”
Richie bit down on his bottom lip, unsure of what he should or could say.
“This, uh… It’s new.”
Beverly’s face told Richie she didn’t believe him. Richie didn’t blame her. It wasn’t new, not really, just new to him in a realization kind of way.
“I’m serious!” He insisted. “I didn’t like, admit it to myself or whatever until the day before yesterday. I don’t… I don’t know. I already had a minimal freak out about it. We’ve always been close and stuff, but now it’s like I can’t leave him alone.”
Her expression turned to something more sympathetic. “Who else knows?” She asked.
“Well, Stan had to tell me, so him. And Eddie. And since Stan knows, I guess Mike does to. So, the only people that don’t know might just be Ben.” A brick fell into Richie’s stomach. “D’you think--you said obvious, do you think Bill--”
“Probably not.” Beverly said, placing a reassuring hand on Richie’s shoulder. “Probably not. Though, if you don’t stop pawing at him, he’s bound to figure it out.”
“I don’t think I want to stop pawing at him.” Richie admitted, and Beverly let out a little bit of a laugh.
“Of course you don’t. You don’t have a single bit of patience in you.”
“I can be patient!”
“I once saw you eat a marshmallow that was still on fire.”
“Why do I need to be patient?”
“Because he just got out of a nine month relationship.” Beverly had a frown on her face. “You said that he was kinda broken up about it. You don’t want to be a rebound, do you?”
Richie fell silent for a moment. He couldn’t help but feel that maybe, that might be worth it.
Summary: High school is a year of experimentation for almost everyone. Especially for those in the small town of Derry, Maine. There’s not a lot to do out and about, the nearest mall is in Bangor just under an hour away, so they have to find other ways to entertain themselves. Bill Denbrough has done that for himself. He has two Cannabis plants in the corner of his bedroom, his entire residence being in his parent’s garage.
In which Bill has weed plants named Atlas and Llana and he is known as a reliable weed dealer for the students of Derry High School. He has usual clients, usually the ones who are mean to him when he sees him otherwise. The bowers gang and Greta Bowie need to be careful with him because he knows they toke up in their free time.
One night he gets a customer he never expected. He's not preppy and clean cut like many kids that he's surprised buy from him, he's a human disaster. Richie Tozier has never smoked weed before, and he definitely doesn't know what shotgunning is.
#62: “if you can’t sleep, then how about we have sex?” (bichie)
- requested by @urispatty / @catisgoingtohell
listen. i didn’t think i shipped bichie but this shit made me soft. thank you
Richie shifted underneath the bed covers, turning his body around multiple times in an attempt to find some sort of comfortable position. He had no idea what time it was and didn't want to bother checking, because he knew that it would just end up distracting him in some way and then he really wouldn't be able to sleep. So, Richie just kept flipping and flopping, and it wasn't until he ended up accidentally falling onto Bill that he was still for more than a few seconds. He heard Bill groan and shove at him.
"Quit m-moving or I'm gonna ban you t-to the couch," Bill muttered, turning away from the center of the bed and pulling the sheets further up over him.
Richie sighed and scooted closer to Bill. "C'mon. I'm just uncomfy."
Bill shoved his heel back to kick at Richie's leg. "Go be uncomfy s-somewhere else." He grumbled.
"Babe..." Richie wrapped an arm around Bill's waist and pulled the other back into his chest. "Don't do this. It's late."
"Go to sleep, asshole."
Richie gave a low hum in response, lightly running his fingers up Bill's ribs and smirking when he felt Bill tense and squirm a bit.
"Stop it, Rich." Bill kicked Richie's leg again.
"Please forgive me, you stubborn bitch," Richie quietly said, bringing his head up to rest it on Bill's cheek. "You can't go to sleep angry. It's against the rules."
Bill sighed and grabbed Richie's hand to stop it from tickling him any further. "I'm n-not angry. I'm just tired and you're m-making me cranky."
"Cranky, angry, same thing." Richie pressed his lips to Bill's cheek and felt Bill ever-so-slightly smile a bit.
"What do I have to do to make you st-stop and go to sleep?" Bill turned his head back to look at Richie, his eyes drooping and his jaw parting in a yawn.
Richie thought about it for a second but shrugged. "I don't know. I just want you to stop being angry. Or cranky. I want you to sleep." He nuzzled his face into the back of Bill's neck.
"I wuh-would be asleep if you would st-stop moving around." Bill lightly chuckled.
"I caaaan't. It's not comfortable." Richie whined.
"What will m-make you comfortable?"
"I don't knowwww."
Bill let out a huff, shaking Richie's arms off of him and twisting his body around to prop himself up on an elbow and look at Richie. "Fine. If you c-can't sleep, th-then how about we just have sex?"
Richie raised his eyebrows and pulled his hands back to put them behind his head. "Well... I mean, I was just gonna suggest pulling an allnighter and watching Friends, but if you're suggesting something different, I guess I'm down-"
He didn't have a chance to say anything else before Bill was throwing a leg over Richie and sitting himself back on Richie's lap. "If you complain ab-bout being uncomfortable I will s-seriously leave you with the worst case of blue balls and th-then go sleep on the couch."
"Whatever you say, captain."
Bill dropped himself next to Richie on the mattress, throwing an arm over his face. The only noise in the room was both of their panting and the faint whir of a fan.
Richie took in a deep breath and turned his head to look at Bill. "I think getting to see you like..." He gestured vaguely in the direction of his lap. "...that, will always be better than any show I will ever watch."
Bill softly laughed and covered his face with his hands. "Please don't embarrass m-me. I don't like it when you do that." He mumbled through his palms.
Richie turned onto his side and snaked his arms around Bill's torso. "Yes you do. You just don't want me seeing you all flustered because you know how much I like it, and for some reason, you don't want to see me happy." He pressed numerous kisses to Bill's face, savoring the giggles he got out of the other.
"Because you're an asshole." Bill shoved Richie's face away and turned his own head to the other side of the bed. "You don't d-deserve that sort of ss-satisfaction."
"That's mean." Richie pouted, then snuggled back into Bill's shoulder. "You love me."
"Not when you wake me up in th-the middle of the night."
Richie paused. "Not even after getting to ride the Richie-coaster?"
"When you call it th-that it makes me wish I didn't know you."
"It's funny."
"It's terrible."
Richie dramatically sighed and laid back down on his back. "Fine. I guess I'll shut down the ride for good."
"No one wants to r-ride it anyway."
"Whoa!" Richie cackled. "I have truly never felt so hurt in my entire life."
Bill tried not to smile, but couldn't help but let himself grin and toss himself onto Richie's chest. "I'm just joking." He placed a hand on Richie's chest, tracing circles into his skin. "It's my f-favorite attraction, I must admit." He giggled a bit.
"Now you're just inflating my ego."
"Whatever m-makes you happy."
Richie let out a soft exhale and ran his hands up and down Bill's back. "You make me happy." He felt Bill smile against his chest.
"You know what makes me happy?" Bill asked, looking up at Richie.
"Hm?"
"W-when you sh-shut up and go to sleep because I'm tired."
Richie laughed and tilted his head towards the ceiling. "Yeah yeah, whatever. Goodnight."
