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Richie Tozier would probably never admit that the first thing he did after getting a phone call from Mike Hanlon in Derry fucking Maine, was puke his guts out. He'd probably never admit, though the press means he wouldn't have to, that he went on stage immediately after and then forgot how to do his fucking job five minutes later. He's never going to admit that he ran off the stage like a 6th grader at her first recital. He will never admit to the crashes he almost got into as he frantically sped his car towards his two-bedroom apartment. He won't talk about how he immediately began packing his suitcase along side a much smaller, pink one. He'd never talk about the fear in his voice and the panic he felt when he called his mom telling her they were on their way but offering no explanation.
Richie wouldn't talk about how the layover in Indiana- his parents nice enough to simply meet them at the airport- felt like it was killing him, how the kiss and hug goodbye hurt his heart, how terrified he was that it could be the last one. He would never, ever admit that he felt like crying his eyes out and puking again as he got onto a plane to Maine. It was on that plane that he promised himself that he wouldn't tell the others about any of this. If they knew, as much as he wanted them to, then It could know, and that was something Richie would never let happen.
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When Richie was 34, he did something stupid. Shocking, he knew. It was a severe lapse in judgement, a moment of built up self-deprecation exploding, one too many drinks, and one too many tabloid headlines getting to his head.
He'd never been one for one night stands, despite what his reputation implied. It was, in fact, a very, very rare occurrence. That night had been a fluke. He'd had a sold out show that night and afterward his manager suggested getting drinks to celebrate. Richie had agreed, which was poor choice number one. Second was that he'd gotten shitfaced drunk. Third was that when a pretty girl across the bar smiled at him shyly and his manager saw it, Richie listened to him when he was told to go talk to her. Richie had no interest in her, not really, or even girls in general. But Richie went anyway because he had an "image" to maintain and 34 years of ignored repression to guide his way. The next poor choice was offering to leave with her. To figure out what happened from there is pretty easy.
Richie, however, didn't realize all these poor choices he'd made until 11 months later when there was a knock on his door. On the other side stood a pretty, but very tired looking woman that he vaguely recognized holding a quiet bundle in her arms.
Richie's daughter had been a very happy baby. She'd giggle and gurgle and smile at him until Richie thought her cheeks must be hurting. She did, at least a few times a week, let him sleep through the night. Her eyes were a gorgeous green that melted Richie's heart- those she had gotten from her mother- and her hair was a match to his own brown waves. Richie loved her with every part of him. She was, in a word, perfect.
That said, the moment Richie had laid eyes on her, he'd begun majorly panicking. How could he be a father? How the hell did that happen? God, this is why he didn't do one night stands. How had he been stupid enough to sleep with a woman and not even use protection? How the fuck was he, Richie Trashmouth Tozier, meant to take care of this baby? His baby. He wasn't a dad. Richie could barely even take care of himself. He knew virtually nothing about babies. What did they do? What did even need? Richie had no fucking clue.
So, he did the next logical move and, mid panic attack, called his mom. She flew out the next day, over which Richie had managed to keep his baby girl alive and happy. It was through the use of many, many YouTube videos, Google searches, and an extremely difficult, scream-filled trip to the store that he was able to.
When her mother had showed up at Richie's door with a one month old child, telling him that she didn't want her, that she was his responsibility now, he had yet to give her a name. Richie hadn't even realized it until his mom asked him about it. He'd just come up with little nicknames or pet names to call her. Baby, Baby Girl, Honey, Sweetheart. . . Now she needed an actual name.
Celia "CeCe" Tozier was born a month before her father even knew she existed. He was her sole guardian, and with help from his mom and dad, Richie figured out how to take care of his daughter. For the last five years they've lived together in a small two-bedroom apartment in LA. Richie was still a comedian and thanked the lord he was popular enough to have enough money to take care of her. In the mornings he took CeCe to daycare, went to his job or meetings with his manager, then picked her up that afternoon. On nights he had shows he would leave her with the only neighbor he trusted until he got home to take care of her. They traveled together when he had shows out of town and his manager liked him just enough to be willing to watch CeCe when he was on stage. He was happy as a single parent and had never looked for a partner. No one was right for him or for CeCe, though Richie could never really explain why. His little girl was five years old now and was his entire life. They were happy, though a bit of a mess.
Now Richie was on a plane on his way to Derry, Maine to meet up with all of his childhood friends. He couldn't even tell someone why, if they asked, he had dropped everything, including his daughter, to rush out like this. It was something about. . . being in danger? A summer when they were kids? An oath he'd made because of Bill?
Oh. Bill. That was his name.
Yeah, Bill. And there was Mike, who had called him, and. . . Ben? Beverly? Yeah, that was right. Bill, Mike, Ben, Beverly, and Stan. Shit, Stan was his best friend. How had he forgotten Stanley? There was one more, though. There had been seven of them. The "Losers Club". Who was he forgetting still? It hit him like a ton of bricks.
Eddie. Eddie Kaspbrak. The short, hyperactive hypochondriac who wore two fanny packs and yelled at him about diseases. The boy with the soft brown hair and twinkling chocolate colored eyes and the best smile Richie had ever seen. Eddie Spaghetti. His favorite person in the whole world. But there was something else. . . something about Eddie that Richie was still forgetting.
It wasn't until he'd gotten back into Derry, walked into that stupid Chinese restaurant, and made eye contact with Eddie that he realized.
Oh. Oh shit.
He had had the biggest fucking crush on this guy. He'd hidden it behind jokes and cracks about his mom, but fuck, he had been so gone for Eddie. Looking into his eyes after so many fucking years, Richie felt his chest tighten, his hands get shaky, and his throat close up. He could barely even make it through his joke about Ben when it was clear that they were all struggling to remember proper names. Richie couldn't even move his eyes off Eddie. It hit him full force that after all these years he still felt the same thing for this dumb, hypochondriac asshole.
It was one of the most terrifying thoughts Richie had had in a very long time. Seeing Eddie brought up so many things that he either had or had tried to forget. All the anger he'd felt at himself for liking a boy, the fear of what the town would do if someone in Derry found out, the nightmares of his friends' rejection, the heart-stopping thought of Eddie finding out, telling him he was gross or stupid, that he hated him. He remembered that fucking clown coming after him, using his secret against him in the most painful ways. Richie had fallen in love with Eddie that summer. Richie didn't want to think about the fact that he probably still was.
Richie had spent years telling himself that he couldn't find anybody because they didn't understand his humor or nitpicking on things like they were too tall or their hair was too blonde, or that he had CeCe now and didn't need anybody else. He realized now that he had spent all this time, all these long ass years comparing them all to someone he couldn't even remember. Every time he saw someone, girl or guy, a very small part of his brain, deep into his subconscious, said, this is not Eddie.
How the hell had Richie ever forgotten Eddie? It seemed so impossible now, sitting next to him and falling right back into the routine they'd had as kids. It was like someone had pressed play on a paused movie. It picked up right where it had left off, Richie and Eddie throwing insults back and forth with no heat behind them, joking and laughing with the rest of the group. Something in Richie's chest hurt when Eddie talked about his wife, but Richie didn't let it show. He'd known as kids that Eddie hadn't felt the same. After 27 years, why would he feel it now? Eddie might be it for Richie, but that didn't mean it was the same the other way around.
Listening to Eddie joke around and catch up with everyone, seeing him smile and enjoy himself left Richie thinking, against his will, how much CeCe would love him. The girl had the brightest smile and best sense of humor- something she of course had inherited from Richie- and was her father's daughter. If Richie loved Eddie, CeCe would latch to him immediately, too. There were qualities of CeCe that he knew Eddie would just love, too. For whatever reason, she had developed this seemingly impossible sense of caution. Where she'd gotten it Richie had no clue, but the little five year old had once yelled at Richie for not looking both ways TWICE before crossing the street. He had of course taught her all the "do-and-don't"s, a difference between right and wrong, and everything else a normal parent is supposed to teach their child, but admittedly, Richie had always been more of a "do as I say, not as I do" kind of parent.
He was still messy as all hell, but he'd gotten better at cleaning it up. He still drank, but he swore he'd never have enough to even be tipsy if his daughter was around. He would never let go of his bad habit of swearing, but hey, CeCe would just have a bigger vocabulary than most kids, right? He still wore too many Hawaiian shirts and his glasses still didn't properly fit his face, but it's not like his five year old was going to judge his fashion sense. The only way he could get her out of the house and on the way to the airport was if she was allowed to dress in her bright yellow tutu and cowboy Halloween costume vest, with a big bubblegum pink bow holding back her dual braids. And yes, Richie had taken classes on how to properly style his daughter's hair. He may be a mess of a person, but he'd never let anyone say he was a mess of a father.
CeCe was so smart, too. She loved books, even though Richie had always tried to get out of reading to her when she was bored or going to bed. She was set to start kindergarten soon- a fact that Richie tried to forget; it made him sad how big his baby was getting- and she was already reading on her own. Richie blamed his mother for that one. She spent hours reading with CeCe every time they visited, which was often. His daughter had a strange way of speaking beyond her very young years, though he'd heard that children often say weirdly profound things with no explanation. She was a sassy kid already, which made Richie dread her teenage years, but much like her father, she never really said anything with any heat. She loved her daddy, and he loved her. So fucking much.
Richie desperately wished, as the Losers were going around catching up on their lives, that he could share this with them. That he could pull out his phone and show pictures of her playing and running and that adorable picture on his home screen when she'd stolen his glasses to try on herself. He wanted to brag that no, he wasn't married, but he had the best kid ever. He was finally doing what he loved as a comedian making good money and had tour dates coming up in Reno, where he planned to take CeCe to a bunch of tourist trap spots. He wanted so much to talk about his baby girl, but he was terrified.
Pennywise had known, when they were kids, about his "dirty little secret". Richie had never said a word of it out loud but that fucking clown had still known that Richie was hopelessly in love with Eddie and absolutely shaken to the core at the thought of it getting out. Pennywise had known that, but he was hoping with every fiber of his being that having been gone for 27 years meant that if he didn't talk about it, if it wasn't common knowledge, that maybe It wouldn't know about her. He didn't know if he could handle having her used against him.
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As soon as Richie got the opportunity, after they'd run out of the Chinese restaurant in fear and gotten back to the Inn, after Bev had called a crying Patricia Uris and been informed that Stanley was in critical condition at the hospital after slitting his wrists open, after they'd all finally remembered what they truly were all here to fight, Richie ran to the safety of his room. Shit, he couldn't handle this. Richie didn't want to deal with a demonic clown trying to kill him again, didn't want to deal with his best friend dying in some hospital, didn't want to deal with all these returning feelings towards Eddie fucking Kaspbrak.
Once he was alone, Richie collapsed into the bed, sitting with his elbows on his knees and face in his hands. He'd shoved his glasses out of his way and onto the top of his head. He forced himself to take deep breaths and stop tears from swelling in his eyes. God, why did he even come here? Fucking Mike. He could be home right now, preparing for his next shows. But instead he was in Derry with all his successful, attractive friends to kill his childhood terror.
Against all his better judgements, Richie allowed his hand to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. It was on autopilot that he even dialed the number. He felt his entire body relax as the voice on the other end answered.
"Maggie Tozier speaking."
"Hey, mom," Richie breathed out, falling back against the bed.
"Richie! Oh honey, I was worried we weren't going to hear from you!"
"I, I know. I'm sorry, I've been busy."
"Doing what, Rich? You didn't even tell us where you were going."
Richie stayed silent. How the hell was he supposed to explain this? "Hey, mom, I'm back in our hometown with all my friends to fulfill an oath we made as kids to fight a monster that tried to kill us"? Yeah, that wasn't happening.
"Mom, I can't explain right now, I just-"
"Well, do you know when you're coming back? Not that we don't love having our favorite little visiter, but at such a short notice-"
"I'll be home soon, mom."
Hopefully, his brain supplied.
"Can I just. . . can I talk to CeCe, please?"
His mom didn't respond, but in the background he could hear her calling out, "Celia, darling, come talk to your father!"
The screech of "DADDY!" in response to his mom made Richie smile wide. It only took another minute or so before the phone had passed hands and his daughter was now on the other end.
"Hi, daddy!"
"Hey, sweetheart. You being good for Nana and Gramps?"
"Yep! I promise."
Richie, despite everything else that had happened tonight, found himself unable to take the smile off his face as he closed his eyes and allowed for his daughter's voice to fill the space. He blocked out thoughts of It, of Eddie downstairs with everyone else, of the grief in Patty's voice when she told them the doctors didn't think Stan would survive the night, and of everything about Derry, Maine. Instead he let CeCe ramble on about everything she had done with Nana that day, including puzzles and games, helping make dinner, and planning a trip to the indoor pool tomorrow. It made him, in a word, happy.
CeCe was halfway through a description of a cat she had seen in the backyard when Richie was brought out of his blissful focus on the conversation by a quiet knock on his door.
"Rich? It's me," came a muffled voice on the other side of the wood. It was Eddie. Of course it was Eddie. "I just came to check on you after, well. . . yeah."
CeCe was still talking in his ear as Richie sat up at looked at the door. He supposed he would have to answer it. If not, he was sure Eddie would freak out thinking something had happened and he'd have Mike and Ben breaking his door down in five minutes. With a light sigh, he gripped the phone just a little tighter.
"Hey, Baby Girl, listen to me a minute."
Shockingly enough, his daughter did indeed fall silent.
"I have to put the phone away for the night, but I promise I'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Oh, okay, daddy! I love you!"
"I love you, too. So much."
With a quick and cheerful 'bye-bye', the phone went silent. Richie sighed, forcing himself to stand up. Shoving his phone in his pocket and stretching a little, he walked to the door. He pulled it open to find Eddie on the other side, immediately looking over Richie with a worried expression.
"What's up, Spaghetti Man?"
Eddie glared at the very old nickname, but didn't comment. He glanced once over Richie's shoulder.
"Who were you talking to?"
Richie faltered for a moment. The best, it seemed, his brain could come up with was, "Oh, um, nobody?"
Eddie gave him an deadpanned face that Richie had often found himself on the receiving end of as kids. It was the one that basically said "Clearly you think I'm as stupid as you are." Richie almost cringed at his own answer. Obviously he had been talking to someone.
Attempting to back track, Richie said, "It was just a phone call. Not important."
Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Do you normally tell non-important people that you love them?"
Richie blushed. He didn't figure Eddie had been able to hear exactly what he was saying. How would he explain that one away? He couldn't even try to focus on coming up with an answer. It was too hard when Eddie was standing this close, less than a foot away. Richie could see every worry line on his face, the light crow's feet forming around his eyes, how soft his lips looked. Shit, Richie hadn't felt like this for almost 27 years. It made his heartbeat pick up and his throat tighten. Richie felt as though he could suddenly remember everything about Eddie. His every mannerism, every disease he'd ever been scared of, all the nights one or both of them would sneak out to meet up late at night, the playful fights Richie would start just as an excuse to touch him. . . It made Richie scared, in a way. His dirty little secret, something else he'd managed to forget, in a way, was back in full swing. And so was the goddamn clown.
Eddie was just watching him with his eye brow still raised, looking bored with Richie's excuses. Something else fluttered in the look in his eyes, something almost. . . sad? Richie figured, much like himself, Eddie must not have been able to get the thoughts of Stan out of his head. Richie chose, rather than scrambling to come up with some lame excuse as to who he was talking to, to simply change the subject.
"So where are the rest of the Losers?"
Eddie, thankfully, accepted the change, and shrugged. "I think they went off to their own rooms. Bill might have gone back with Mike to the library. You just left so quickly that I thought someone should make sure you're good."
Richie finally moved out of the doorway, a silent invitation for Eddie to come into the room.
"Of course I'm good, Eds! Nothing gets down Richie Tozier!" Richie smiled as cheerfully as he could manage. Eddie rolled his eyes at him as he moved past Richie and into the small room.
"Bullshit, Trashmouth."
It hadn't really occured to Richie how long it had been since he'd been called that by someone he knew never meant it. When he'd been giving the nickname by Stan, Eddie, and Bill in elementary school, it had always been jokingly, genuine affection hidden behind the fake heat of the name. It was nice to hear it from Eddie, in a strange way.
Eddie sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at Richie, who was still awkwardly standing by the now shut door.
"There's no way you're okay," Eddie said. "I'm certainly not. I mean, Stan. . . he was your best friend since kindergarten."
"Is," Richie whispered, barely loud enough to hear. "Is my best friend."
Eddie nodded and silence fell between them. Richie began moving over to the bed, sitting down on Eddie's left side. He stared down at Eddie's hands for a minute before saying, "So. . . you really got married, huh?"
Eddie huffed quietly in affirmation, pursing his lips and nodding. Richie raised his eyebrows at that.
"No need to sound happy about it, Eds," he teased, desperately ignoring the parts of his brain that got excited at the thought that maybe Eddie wasn't happily married.
"I'm not. . . not happy," Eddie quietly admitted, fiddling with the gold band on his finger. "I mean, Myra's great. . . we're great."
Richie didn't bring up the fact that it sounded like Eddie was trying to convince himself, not Richie. It wasn't his place to mess with someone's home life. It's not like he was the prime example of healthy relationships. He'd only slept with a handful of people- women, and the last time he did he ended up a single father of the most hyper kid he'd ever come across.
Richie and Eddie must have spent about three hours just sitting there on the bed, actually catching up with each other. Richie genuinely listened to Eddie talk about being a risk analyst, restrained himself from commenting on the stories of Myra- God, she kinda sounded like Eddie's mother and he'd hated that woman- laughed at his stupid college stories, and played with and shoved him like they were teenagers again. Eddie listened to Richie talk about how he'd gotten into actually being a comedian, frowned deeply at the story of Richie beginning to use other people's material over his own, ignored the slip ups when Richie stopped himself from almost talking about CeCe, and shoved and insulted Richie right back. By the time they'd talked themselves out, it was like they'd spent only a month apart, not 27 years.
Somehow, over the course of the long conversation, they'd migrated so they were laying on the bed, backs against the headboard and sides pressed together, no sense of personal space between them. Richie had caught himself about 50 times thinking of reaching out and grabbing Eddie's hand. The gold band stopped him every time. The conversation ended when Richie found himself sliding down in the bed, eyes not easily staying open. Eddie quietly laughed at him when his head lulled forward. He stood up, walking around to the side of the bed Richie was laying on.
"Go to sleep, you fucking dumbass," Eddie said with a smile. Richie hummed, throwing his glasses onto the bedside table and not bothering to get up and change out of his jeans and shirt before closing his eyes. Richie wasn't sure if he dreamt the feeling of a hand running through his hair slowly or not. The next time he opened his eyes, Eddie was gone and the sun was coming in through the curtains.
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Falling into the deadlights was by far the worst experience of Richie's life. It felt like he was staring into them for years. Like Bev, he saw their deaths. He saw Ben buried alive, Beverly drowning in blood. He caught images of Mike with a slit throat, of Bill falling into a storm drain the same way Georgie had so many years ago. His vision flashed with people dressed all in black, grieving as they buried Stan. The visions expanded from the Losers. He could see his mom and CeCe laying in a pool of blood, unmoving. Richie's brain was panicking now. He wanted to scream, run to them, but he was frozen in place by the deadlights. The longer the image stayed there, blood flooding out and expanding, expanding, expanding, the less Richie felt as though he could breathe. He had tried so fucking hard to keep CeCe out of this all, and damn it, he'd succeeded until now. As his panic increased to seemingly impossible levels, the vision changed again. Eddie was leaning over him, smiling and saying something Richie couldn't quite comprehend. He was covered in dirt and Richie could see the blood seeping through the bandage on his cheek, but his eyes looked the happiest they'd been since the Chinese restaurant. He looked perfect, as always. Suddenly, though, blood dripped from his mouth and a giant claw was stabbed right through his chest. It had killed him. Pennywise had killed him.
The images replayed themselves over and over, an endless flash between them, always pausing on Celia and Eddie for a moment longer. He tried to keep repeating to himself that this wasn't real. His baby girl was in Indiana, safe and sound with his parents. She was safe. Just as it went back to Eddie, right before Pennywise stabbed him, Richie felt himself fall. As he dropped, his vision went black and he could only feel himself collide with the ground below him. When he came to again, it was to the sight of Eddie leaning over him, smiling and saying something Richie couldn't quite comprehend. He was covered in dirt and Richie could see the blood seeping through the bandage on his cheek, but his eyes looked the happiest they'd been since the Chinese restaurant. He looked perfect, as always.
Richie's brain screamed at him to fucking do something! This was exactly what he had seen in the deadlights. Richie caught barely a glimpse of Pennywise turning their direction, raising a claw. Richie found it in himself to finally act, gripping Eddie's arms tightly and rolling them as quickly as he could. The sound of Pennywise's snarl as Its claw collided with nothing taunted him, but Its attention was soon elsewhere. Their position had ended with Richie now on top of Eddie, their faces leaning close together. Eddie stared up at him in shock, mouth open just slightly. Richie couldn't even say anything. God, he'd seen Eddie die so many times. He'd lost Eddie so many times. Looking at him now, with that dumbstruck expression on his face, Richie thought he could cry. When he made eye contact with Eddie, Richie couldn't help himself. Rather than trying to come up with words, Richie did what he had been thinking about since he was 12 years old. When their lips connected, Eddie made a surprised noise, but he didn't push Richie off. Instead, his hands came up, holding the back of Richie's neck and sliding into his hair.
Despite everything going on around them, Richie smiled into the kiss. Having Eddie right here, like this, it felt like something had finally clicked into place inside of him. Like all these years he'd been missing a part of himself and Eddie was the one giving it to him. He could feel that Eddie was smiling, too. Richie couldn't believe that this was happening. If he had told his 13 year old self that someday, when he kissed Eddie, Eddie would kiss back, he would call you nuts. Even now he had a hard time trusting the fact that this really was Eddie, that he really did reciprocate feelings for Richie.
When they finally broke apart, it was on neither of their own accords. A strong hand gripped Richie's shoulder and pulled him back a bit.
"Not that I'm not super fucking happy for you guys," Mike said frantically, eyes darting around the cistern to track Its every move, "but don't you think you can do this later?! When we're not about to fucking die!"
Richie stood up, flashing a smile to Mike and then gluing his eyes to Eddie's face. "No time like the present, Mike 'n Ike!"
Richie would swear that even if the dark, he could see Eddie blushing.
"Whatever, Trashmouth," Eddie said, beginning to follow where Mike had walked away, "let's go kill this fucking clown."
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Afterwards, they went to the quarry. Like a mirror image of their childhood, it was Bev who went running off the cliff's edge first. The rest of them followed, splashing into the cold water with shouts. For a while, it was just like when they were kids. They swam around, splashing water into each other's faces and joking around. Richie could spy Ben and Beverly along the outer edge of the group, wrapped in each other's arms. Richie smiled; Ben's crush when they were kids had been so incredibly obvious. It was cute that they'd found each other all these years later. Richie was happy to see Beverly with that bright smile on her face. As he watched them, Richie barely registered the arm that came around his waist. It was subconsciously that he leant into the chest pressed to his back. Eddie leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Richie's cheek. It caused Richie to blush a little, though he'd never admit it. His heart raced at Eddie's proximity, the fact that this was his reality. He turned his head and smiled as widely as he could towards the short, obnoxious hypochondriac. He couldn't believe he was in love with this idiot, but God, he was so glad he was.
"Hey, Eds," Richie whispered.
Eddie quirked a smile at him in return before quietly saying, "I haven't talked to her at all yet, obviously, but I'm divorcing Myra."
Oh, yeah, Richie had forgotten about her. He'd been so focused on the fact that Eddie was finally his that he'd ignored the part where he'd technically become a homewrecker.
"Oh, yeah?" Richie asked, trying not to sound too happy about it. He didn't seem to succeed based on the look Eddie gave him.
"Seeing you all again, and well, seeing you made me think about a lot of things. I never really loved Myra. She and my mom pressured me into proposing. I wasn't happy then and I'm not happy now. But I think. . . I think I could be."
Eddie finished the last sentence by coming around so they were facing each other and placing a hand on Richie's cheek.
Richie leaned in, giving him a quick, soft kiss, before adding a teasing tone to voice and saying, "So you're leaving her. What's your plan then, Kaspbrak?"
Eddie shrugged, smiling softly. "I don't know. I mean, I know this guy in LA. Super famous and everything."
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah," Eddie said with a smirk. "William Denbrough. Famous author. You've heard of him, right?"
Richie barked out a laugh at Eddie's joke, catching the attention of the other Losers. If they noticed how closely the two were wound together, how their faces were practically pressed together, none of them said anything. Even if Richie was sure he'd be able to see their smiles and Bill's teasing grin without his glasses on.
"Would you really come to LA?" Richie asked him, quietly. Eddie stared at him like he was nuts.
"Of course, Rich. I lost you for 27 years and I don't want to do that again. You're not getting rid of me that easily."
Richie thought that if he smiled any wider, he'd probably split his face in half. The thought of having Eddie home with him, seeing him relax and adjust to the LA environment, being able to kiss him whenever the fuck he wanted was one of the best things he could think of happening.
"You're going to love Los Angeles, Eds. It's a magical place. I know all the good tourist traps to get you introduced into the city. And you'll just melt when you meet-"
Richie felt himself freeze. CeCe. Fuck, the images of her laying on the ground came flooding back to his vision and he could feel his breaths becoming shallow. Eddie was staring at him in confusion. Richie looked to where the rest of the group had crawled onto the rock beach to dry off. He pushed away from Eddie, swimming to them.
"Guys- shit- do any of you, fuck- a phone. Does anyone's phone still work?"
They all looked at him with worry across their faces at how sudden Richie's freak out was. Even still, Mike reached into his pocket and came out with a decent looking smart phone. By miracle, neither the cistern nor quarry had ruined it and Mike opened it up, handing it over to Richie. Under pressure and panic, Richie messed up and started the phone number over again three times before finally bringing it up to his ear and listening to the ring. At this point, Eddie had swum over, too, placing a gentle hand on Richie's shoulder.
"Come on, pick up, pick up. . ." Richie mumbled as the phone rang again. He and Eddie slowly made their way out of the water towards the others. Finally, after what seemed like hours, a quiet, high pitched voice answered on the other end.
"Hello?"
Richie could feel his shoulders sag in relaxation and he brought a hand over his mouth as tears formed in his eyes against his will. He managed to compose himself enough to let out a quiet, "Hey, CeCe."
"Daddy!" his daughter screeched on the other end. From the way he froze next to him, it seemed she was just loud enough for Eddie to hear her. Right now, though, Richie couldn't seem to care. His daughter was okay.
"Yeah, Baby Girl, it's me. How you doing, huh? You taking care of Nana and Gramps?"
Richie could feel tears actually falling from his eyes now as he heard CeCe giggle on the other end.
"No, daddy! They're supposed to take care of me!"
Richie smiled, huffing a laugh to himself.
"Yeah," he whispered, silently thanking whatever god was watching over his daughter and parents. He knew the others around him were watching with rapt attention and shock.
"So what are you up to today, CeCe? Where's Nana?"
Even his daughters voice wasn't enough to completely calm his anxiety; his mom was nearly always the one to answer the phone.
"She's in the garden," CeCe replied with a slight song to her words. Richie relaxed a little more, leaning into Eddie's hand on his shoulder.
"And are you supposed to be out helping her?" Richie asked, imposing his official dad voice. He pointedly did not look at his friends.
There was silence on the other end for just too long of a moment before CeCe hesitantly told him, "I came inside to pee."
Richie laughed, shaking his head. "Not a good enough liar for that one, yet, Baby Girl. Wanna try again?"
He could hear CeCe groaning, "Nana said I didn't hafta help if I really didn't want to."
"Well how about you go outside and tell Nana that Dad says you need to help out."
Someone- Ben, Richie thinks- gasped at his word choice. Richie avoided reacting to it, focusing on the whining of his daughter over the phone.
"Daddy, I don't like picking the tomatoes. They make my hands messy."
Richie laughed quietly, "Then don't squish them in your hands, dork."
"But it's fun!"
Richie laughed again, shaking his head. "Just go outside and help, Celia."
"Okay, daddy," CeCe relented. "I love you!"
"I love you, too, baby. I'll be home really soon, okay?"
"Yay! Okay!"
"Bye, CeCe."
As he dropped the phone from his ear, Richie finally braved looking at the others. They were all silent, mouths agape with shock. Richie sighed deeply, not knowing what to tell them. Pennywise was gone, It wasn't going to hurt CeCe or use her against him. Richie could finally tell his best friends all about his little girl and he didn't even know what to say. Beverly finally broke the silence.
"Richie. . . who- who was that? That you were talking to?"
Richie couldn't help but smile at her use of the most obvious question. "My daughter, Celia," Richie replied quietly, feeling relief at finally being able to say it out loud. Ben sucked in a gasp again and Eddie looked incredibly tense.
"You have a daughter?" Bill asked. When Richie nodded, he followed up with, "How?"
Richie laughed hesitantly. Before he could even answer, Eddie piped up with, "I thought you weren't married."
He sounded upset and anxious, maybe even a little bit jealous. Normally it would have made Richie smile to hear that from Eddie, but now he just shook his head.
"I'm not, I'm not married. Or dating anyone. I just- CeCe was born from a one night stand I had six years ago. I didn't even know about her until after she was born. Her mother dropped her off at my door one day."
That caused Bev to look at him with pity in her expression, which almost had him rolling his eyes. He was really sick of people deciding his single dad origin was a sob story. Richie genuinely enjoyed being a single parent. It was fucking hard, of course it was, but he had never once wished that CeCe's mother hadn't given her to him or even that she'd stuck around for their daughter.
"So, what?" Mike asked quietly. "She was. . . I guess a mistake?"
"No!" Richie immediately snapped, anger seeping deep into his tone. "Don't fucking call her that."
Mike held his hands up in surrender, raising his eyebrows high. "Shit, sorry, man, I didn't mean-"
"No, I know, I know," Richie deflated, looking to Mike with an apology. "I just fucking hate that word. About a month after CeCe was born, her mother showed up at my door with my baby in her arms. She handed her over to me and said. . ."
Richie choked on his own words, looking down. He forgot how much he hated CeCe's mom until he thought about this. Eddie, as good as he'd always been at telling when something bugged Richie, trailed his hand down from his shoulder to squeeze Richie's hand. Richie intertwined their fingers, squeezing back. He took a deep breath before continuing.
"She put Celia in my arms and said 'this was your mistake, you deal with it'. So anytime anyone says she was a mistake, I just get so pissed off. CeCe wasn't planned, obviously, but that doesn't mean she's a mistake. She's the best thing in my life."
Eddie moved into his, holding his hand tighter while the others watched him silently. Bev had a faint smile on her face.
"Holy shit, Rich. You're a dad!" She sounded excited for him, jumping up from her spot on the ground to wrap her arms around his shoulders. Richie immediately hugged her back. This was the excitement that had always been missing from his journey as a father. His mom loved them both, obviously, but everything had been so frantic and serious when he'd gotten CeCe that he'd never had the opportunity to simply share in the joy that he was this little girl's father. Soon, the rest of the Losers joined in the hug, offering some form of a congratulations. They all still looked shocked, but genuinely happy for him.
When they all pulled off, smiles written on all their faces, Richie looked at Eddie. He was worried that at the light of this new information that maybe Eddie was rethinking some things. Maybe he wouldn't want this anymore, wouldn't want to meet CeCe, wouldn't want to come out to LA. It was a lot, Richie knew. Especially for everything they'd been through in the past few days. Eddie, however, didn't look upset. In fact, he was staring at Richie with the fondest look he thinks he's ever seen. It made Richie go weak in the knees with how much he fucking loved this guy. Eddie walked forward the few steps that had come between them, and with both arms coming around Richie's neck, pulled him into a searing kiss. They ignored the cheering and wolf whistles of the other Losers for the most part, though Richie was pretty sure Eddie threw up a middle finger in their direction.
"So you gonna tell us all about this kid of yours or what, Trashmouth?" Eddie said when they finally pulled apart.
And Richie did. They walked all the way back to town listening to Richie ramble on about CeCe's green eyes and brown wavy hair, her love for books and how smart she was, how she was constantly making jokes with him and how her laugh lit up their whole apartment. He talked about the hard parts of raising her by himself, how he'd had to take classes on how to cook healthily, how he'd struggled and struggled and fought to keep her existence out of his public life. He gushed about how much he loved her. All the while, Eddie gripped his hand tightly, smiling softly and letting out laughs. Beverly was so excited about the concept of being able to meet CeCe that she almost cried, Ben holding her up and chuckling along. Bill offered, since he lived in LA too, to watch her for him when Richie was busy or needed a break. Mike started listing all these old children's books he had somewhere in the library in case Richie wanted to take them home with him. Richie couldn't stop smiling.
When they got back to Derry Town House, they were all exhausted and yet completely awake. They all silently went to their rooms to clean up- Mike borrowing some clothes from Bill- and then reconvened in the living room area. They were, thankfully, the only ones staying in the building right now and the owners had mostly made themselves scarce. They collapsed into the couches and chairs. Bev leaned into Ben's chest and Eddie and Richie had their sides pressed together as they sat close as possible. None of them had much to say at the moment, and they stayed quiet until a faint ringing from Mike's pocket broke the comfortable atmosphere. A puzzled look on his face, Mike pulled out his phone, but when he glanced down to it, shock and realization filled his face.
"Hello?" Mike answered, putting the phone on speaker. Richie sat up, noticing the other Losers do the same; it must be an important call for Mike to have them all hear it.
"This is. . . this is Mike, right?" came a women's voice. Bev's mouth formed a silent "oh" at the sound, like she recognized who was calling.
"Yes. Yes, it is. This is Patty calling, right? How, how are you?"
Richie felt his throat tighten a little. Stanley's wife. Shit, he hadn't even thought about calling Patty after they'd defeated It. Part of him didn't want to know what had happened to his best friend. He didn't need the grief.
"Yeah. I've been trying to reach the woman who called me the other day. Beverly, I think her name was?" Patty said. "When it wasn't working, Stan said to-"
"Wait, what?" Eddie interrupted. "Stan said- is he? Does that mean he's okay?"
Richie reached over, gripping Eddie's hand tightly. They all sat tense in anticipation of her answer.
"Yeah, he is," Patty said through the phone, sounding immensely relieved. Everyone in the room let out a deep breath of relaxation and relief.
"He woke up this morning," she continued. "The doctors wouldn't let him have a phone, but he kept insisting that I call you. He kept rambling about how important it was that you were told that he was okay."
With the knowledge that Stan was alive, it seemed like it was all officially over. The last piece had clicked into place and the Losers were finally safe and okay. They spent some time talking to Patty, introducing themselves and explaining exactly who they were to Stan. They managed to convince her to sneak the phone into Stan's hospital room to talk to him, too. They all shouted in joy at hearing his voice, talking over each other at how happy they were that he was alive, how much they missed him. They listened silently as Stan told them why he'd done it. That he was taking himself off the board in order to give them a better chance. Richie wanted to strangle him for that, but he wanted to hug him tightly, too. They talked about how they'd defeated It. Ben shyly admitted that he and Bev had gotten together. Before Richie and Eddie could even think of telling him the same, Bill loudly interrupted.
"Stan, you'll never fucking believe which of these fucking idiots finally got their shit together!"
Stan was quiet on the other end for a moment before quietly saying, "You're kidding. You've got to be fucking kidding. Richie and Eddie finally admitted they've been in love with each other since elementary school and I wasn't fucking there to see it?!"
Bill burst out laughing, soon followed by the rest of the Losers. Richie and Eddie sat silently, blushing an incredibly dark red.
"Fuck off, Stan," Richie mumbled. He should have known that Bill and Stan had both known. All four of them had been friends for so long, the two people who knew him and Eddie best in the world.
When they'd finally moved on from the relentless teasing over him and Eddie, Richie told Stan about CeCe and Stan told them all about how he and Patty were working on adoption after years of failed attempts at pregnancy. The Losers all made plans to come and visit Stan in about a week's time, right after he was expected to be released from the hospital. Finally, after 27 years, they'd all be back together, as they should be. The Losers Club, Richie thought, had always been destined to be friends and there was no way around it. Every memory loss wouldn't take that away from them.
When they all finally hung up the phone- a doctor caught Stan with it and forced him to hang up- the Losers went to get some sleep. No one commented on the fact that Bev and Ben disappeared into a room together, and no one commented when Richie and Eddie did the same. There were a few moments of awkward silence when they first walked in, just standing next to each other and not quite knowing what to do. Finally, Richie broke the awkwardness by simply whispering, "Eds. . ."
Suddenly, he was crowded by the shorter man, who had leaned up so their faces were closer together. A joke about "What? Are you on your toes?" died in Richie's head as Eddie pressed their lips together. Richie would never admit to the slight moan that fell from his mouth as he wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist to pull him closer. The two fell perfectly into each other, picking up a sense of wonderful synchronicity. Like, Richie couldn't help but think, they were made for each other.
It had been a long time since Richie had made out with someone. He was thrilled that it was with Eddie this time. Their bodies slotted together lit up every inch of Richie's body. Eddie's hands in his hair drove him crazy. Richie's hands sliding down Eddie's back was almost subconscious, like they were meant to do so. When Eddie took a step back, towards the bed, Richie didn't even hesitate to follow him. They didn't even move apart, barely even separating enough for breath. Their lips, tongues, teeth, and breaths danced a complicated and difficult tango and it was perfect. He walked the shorter man backwards until Eddie grunted a little as the back of his knees hit the bed. Richie very carefully- they were both still sore from the events in the sewers- eased Eddie down onto the bed, climbing on over him. He had one knee between Eddie's legs, the other outside.
Richie dragged his hands from Eddie's back to his front, resting them on his chest. Eddie's breathing was shallow and his heart was racing. It made Richie smile into their kisses to feel that under his hands; it was the best feeling in the world to know he was doing to Eddie exactly what Eddie had been doing for him since he was 10.
"Fuck, Richie," Eddie groaned into his mouth as he shifted his hips just slightly against Eddie's. The man under him began moving his hands down from Richie's hair, across his chest snd abdomen, resting just above Richie's belt buckle. At this, Richie's brain- which seemed to have completely shut down other than a string of "Eddie, Eddie, Eddie"- kicked back into action. He suddenly pulled back from Eddie's lips, sitting up a little bit.
"Shit, Eddie-"
Eddie stared at him in confusion, dropping one of his hands from Richie's body and bringing the other back up, cupping the back of Richie's neck. "Richie, what's. . . what's wrong?"
Eddie's voice was heavy, low, and rough. It practically made Richie melt into the bed, fall right back into his touch and lips.
"I have- shit, Eds, I have a daughter."
Eddie's brow furrowed in further confusion. "Yeah, Rich, I think we covered that part already."
It almost made Richie smile, his reaction, but he shook his head instead. "No, you don't- you have to understand, Eddie. I have a five year old. She's wonderful, perfect even, but she's five, Eds. CeCe's loud and has too much energy and she's messy as fuck. She's so messy you'd probably cry. And I can't- I need you so fucking bad, but she's the most important thing in my life and-"
Eddie shut him up with a gentle kiss, pulling Richie back down to him. It worked effectively enough; even after breaking apart Richie stopped his rambling speech with his mouth open. Eddie just smiled softly up at him, brushing a few curls out of Richie's face.
"Richie, she's your daughter. By even having any part of you in her, she's already perfect."
It was one of the sweetest things Eddie could have said, but Richie's head was still swimming in anxiety. "Okay, but-"
"But nothing, dipshit. I don't care if she's messy- of course she is, she's a kid. She's your kid. I already love her as much as I love you."
"You- what?"
Richie's brain was on full speed ahead, sure that there was no way he could possibly have heard what came out of Eddie's mouth. Eddie laughed softly, rolling his eyes.
"You getting as deaf as you are blind in your old age, Trashmouth? I love you."
Richie would never, ever admit to tears swelling in his eyes as Eddie said those words. He would, maybe, admit to how he fell into Eddie, not even going to kiss him, but just hugging him as close as possible. He couldn't even process his own thoughts. He knew, that as he cried, he managed to fumble out the words, "I love you, too, Eds. So fucking much. God, I love you."
The rest of the night, the slow return to kissing, the gentle caressing, the moans and "I love you"s filling the air, the removal of clothes, the pure togetherness. . . Richie would never be able to forget that. After all that had happened with Pennywise and the deadlights, that memory of him and Eddie would always be what his mind went to first.
🎈 🎈 🎈 🎈 🎈
Three days later, Richie and Eddie left Derry, Maine for good. Bev and Ben were already gone, Bill having left soon after them to get back to his movie set. Mike was leaving tomorrow, planning to head up to meet Stan and Patty early, and after the rest of the Losers came to visit, he had plane tickets with destination in Florida. Together Richie and Eddie planned to leave to go to Indiana. They were going to Richie's parents' so that Richie could reunite and recuperate with CeCe and so Eddie could finally meet her. The next day, though, Eddie would head back to New York to pack his things, ship them to Richie's apartment, and then after a few days simply meet back up with Richie at Stan's. When it was all done, Eddie was coming home with Richie and CeCe.
It was basically everything Richie had ever dreamed of and everything he never thought he'd have as a kid. His best friends just a phone call away- Bill even in the same city- a man he adored and who loved him back, a home in a city he loved, his dream career, and his beautiful daughter. To think that all of this almost didn't happen, thanks to a goddamn fucking clown, was something Richie hated to think about. He didn't know how he had functioned all these years without it all and he never wanted to think about having to ever again.
Years later, Richie would still never admit to puking when Mike called him. He would never ever talk about what he saw in the Deadlights, except maybe to Eddie or Bev. He wouldn't admit to the nightmares he still had or how Eddie had made him go to therapy. He wasn't going to talk about how he still got up multiple times a night just to go check on CeCe and make sure she was okay, that she was safe. Richie wouldn't talk about how he made Stan send him a picture of himself and Patty every day so he could see that he was home and not in a bathtub or hospital room somewhere. He'd probably never say that that awful killer clown that had terrorized them coming back after 27 years might have actually been the best thing to happen to him because at the end of it all the got his best friends back and Eddie Kaspbrak in his arms.
What he would admit to, however, was how when he woke up in the mornings and Eddie was the first thing he saw, he smiled wider than he thought was possible. He'd talk gently to the rest of their friends about how Eddie still got his heart racing every time they made eye contact. He'd give in and admit to everyone that yes, he had started writing his own material again after Eddie and even CeCe told him over and over that he just wasn't funny. He'd gush and gush about how his heart fucking melted when CeCe and Eddie first met and how within a day CeCe would go running to Eddie with a shriek of delight every time she saw him. He would annoy their friends and Eddie into oblivion as he reminded them every five minutes in their group chat that Eddie was literally the hottest person he had ever seen and holy shit he was dating him. He would very, very shyly confess to Stan that he was seriously thinking about buying a ring. He'd admit and even put it in his show that his proposal was kind of a disaster, going the opposite as planned. But it was okay because Eddie still said yes. He would repeat, over and over and over and over, how he thought his daughter was practically perfect and he loved her more than imaginable, even as she grew into a teenager who loved to debate anything and everything.
Richie Kaspbrak-Tozier was really, truly happy for the first time since he can remember and he was going to obnoxiously make sure that everyone knew it.