(Richie will one day discover a glass bottle of Coca Cola laying on his pillow. Eddie had gotten an entire six pack. And while it's been literally months since he's had the drink, he wanted to share it with Bill and Richie at the very least.
Attached to the bottle is a note:
Look at what I got!
It's been months. I'm pretty sure somewhere thats considered child abuse. Anyway, drink up.
[When was the last time he had a satisfying, refreshing taste of this fine, sugary, bubbly beverage? Richie genuinely can't remember and he almost wants to shed a single, manly tear over this. But he doesn't. He can't. He's far too parched and immediately unscrews the bottle to get that sweet, sweet soda pop in his belly like five years ago.
It tastes like home--not the dreary, too quiet, too empty house in Derry, but the warm summer days at the quarry. It feels like a different time--it's a memory filled with laughter, good tunes, good times--an innocent memory, one that's not tainted by everything horrible and awful that Derry had to offer. Self-control and pacing himself are things that Richie never quite learned. The soda is gone far too quickly, but he savors every bit of it. And he feels happy. Elated. Maybe it's just the sugar hitting his system all at once, but it's a great feeling.
The note gingerly gets tucked under his mattress, the bottle recapped and set aside before venturing out of the garage to find Eddie. He could just leave a note--it's what he's done in the past--or he could send a text. Instead, he tracks him down and immediately drapes himself over Eddie, squeezing his best friend as tightly as he can, pressing his nose against Eddie's cheek as his face scrunches up in a broad grin.
It's not Richie if there isn't an edge of obnoxiousness in his affection, after all.
And very, very quietly, as much as he can manage:] You're the best, you know that?
(Eddie had felt similarly when drinking his own pop. It was incredible, and he felt a little dumb getting so much joy from such a simple thing. Except it was like being back home- the good parts of home. It reminded him of long days spent at the Quarry, shooting the shit with his buds, and it reminded him of putting his feet up at Aladdin Theater and laughing at the dumb acting on screen with Richie and Bill. There wasn't a whole lot of goodness in his life, but the good stuff that was in it was all connected in some small way.
He couldn't help but think that the only thing better than a coke would be getting to drink it with a vanilla ice cream cone. That would be the best.
But he was glad for the coke he had, and he put the remaining three bottles in the fridge. Unlike Richie, he was busy savoring his coke a little more. It was still gonna be gone in an hour, but at least he was stretching it out. He's sitting cross legged in his bed, an ipod in front of him attached to some headphones, as well as something neither Richie or Eddie were familiar: a portable speaker system that the ipod could sync up with.
He's not thinking about that when Richie comes in. Because a second later he's got Richie Tozier draping all over him and despite himself, his arms wind up wrapped tight around Richie and he's smiling at the affection. Relief sizzles in his gut. A part of him...
Well. He supposed he was worrying about nothing after all.)
I'm really not. (His voice is just as quiet, though it doesn't really need to be. Not anymore in his room, anyway.)
I wanted to get you something nice too. I'm glad I got the coke randomly. (He rubs a hand over the top of Richie's head, relishing a bit in the affection.)
But you are. Because you don't think so it makes it more true. Thank you.
[It's sound logic to Richie, and there's really no dissuading him. He's always thought the best of Eddie, and he can't ever imagine a hypothetical scenario where that's not true. A lot of things can shake him, but there's nothing that can make that singular belief waver.
He sighs fondly, eventually letting go of Eddie in favor of settling beside him. It's only after that he realizes that Eddie's--connected to wires? And a box? It doesn't register as a music device; that's not a Walkman, and those don't look like the sort of headphones he's familiar with.
It's nothing medical. Richie knows that. Eddie isn't sick, and if he was--well, there's not a doubt in his mind that he'd know already. That doesn't stop the pang of worry, and ultimately he has to ask.]
Aw shut up. (He mumbles a bit shyly, but then he's grinning all the same.) You're welcome.
(He knew being here was especially difficult for Richie. Even a small something nice felt right to give to him. Instinctively, he leans into Richie's side as his best friend settles beside him. Rogue had showed him the ipod back on the station, and so had Tony, but it doesn't dawn on him that Richie hadn't seen those things yet.
So when he asks, Eddie gets a bit of a gleam in his eyes.)
This? (He picks up the ipod and is suddenly jittery with excitement.) Oh man, you've never seen it? It's the best thing ever. Hold on.
(Eddie crawls out of bed to rush over and shut his bedroom door. He goes back to the bed and picks the ipod up and turns it on. It's smooth and brand new. It was a little confusing to Eddie at first, but thankfully the words in it were all pretty standard. He had fussed around with it for a while to figure things out. He taps around and the speaker in front of them lights up.
'Connected to APPLESAUCE' is spoken in a soft, automatic voice. He taps a few more things and then music starts to quietly play a moment later and Eddie whips his head around to gauge Richie's reaction.)
[Richie's eyes widen when the music starts to play. It's amazing that music can play from such a small device, and the quality is so good.] Where is the cassette tray?
[Digital music is way after his time, and definitely past Eddie's, but Richie assumes that if Eddie has this device, he probably understands it a whole lot more than Richie does. But really, it's not actually an important question; it's just one of those thoughtless ones that comes out as he marvels over how cool it is. What's even cooler is how it's connected to speakers and how? His conclusion is that there must be invisible cords somewhere. He's so convinced of this that he waves his hand to try to catch the cord on his hand, but all he gets is air. Weird.
The song is nice though, catchy, and he enjoys listening to it. It's so different than anything he listened to before, but he figures this must be some kind of future music. A future music song about stuff he can't relate to at all. Except something something about kissing. That's all it takes for his thoughts to drift to places it shouldn't.]
Hey, what do you do when you want to change albums?
(Seeing Richie's reaction to the ipod and the speakers was a riot. Eddie didn't understand it much better, but being from the fifties had meant that for a while, Richie was always the one in the know more than Eddie. It felt a teensy bit good to finally be the one ahead technologically speaking. So he's just giggling on his end, watching Richie try and figure out where wires went.)
There isn't one. I don't fully understand how it works, but I think it's technology similar to our devices. Someone told me it has to do with like, radio waves. That kind of thing.
(Which made enough sense. After all, it wasn't like every TV back home was connected by wires to the same place. That'd be insane.)
Kinda like how I can touch you without touching you? (He offers as a way of explanation, then proceeds to blow some air against Richie's cheek. The question distracts him from fussing with Richie, and he sprawls out onto his belly, gesturing for Richie to look. He taps around and goes to 'Albums' and then there's suddenly dozens and dozens. All with little itty bitty pictures. The overwhelming majority were songs Eddie didn't know. But there were some from the fifties in there. He scrolls through a bit.)
Got any requests? I think this thing has eveeerything. Or just about, anyway.
[Weird, but cool, and he doesn't quite understand it at all. He accepts the answer easily enough for now, though; he can at least get that some things just are. He laughs when Eddie blows air at him, and not long after Eddie lays down, Richie flops beside him, watching the magic happen right before his very eyes.]
Play something with a lot of cuss words! [Is there a mischievous glint in his eyes? You can bet your sweet ass there is.]
(The request is barely a surprise and it makes Eddie snort, shaking his head. The funnier thing though is he already had looked for that sort of thing a while ago. His finger slides down to the Es.)
You're gonna love this guy. He sings really weird? Like. He kind of talks instead of sings. But I like it. He makes a lot of jokes in his songs too.
(Some of the songs were a little intense and scary, but Eddie oddly found that he liked those too. Even if they were graphic. He taps over The Real Slim Shady and let's it play. He takes a peek at Richie, grinning a little because gosh. When was the last time he got to thrill Richie with vulgarity? Didn't happen near enough.)
Music from the future is wild. I can't believe Elvis Presley was ever considered dirty.
[There's so many references he doesn't get by virtue of being from 1989, but god. Almost immediately, he decides he loves this song. His face lights up as he listens to the lyrics, snickering here and there when he understands enough to get it.]
I love this kind of music. It's hip-hop, but it's a lot different than the kind I've heard before. Like Young MC and the Beastie Boys. Have you heard them yet? Look at you Eds, becoming a modern boy.
Was the Elvis thing bad because of the hip thing he did? He's not really cool anymore.
(Eddie's completely lost, but he enjoys it all the same. His brow scrunches up and he pouts just the slightest bit. The triumph of showing Richie something new wasn't particularly long lasting and he has to huff a bit of a sigh. One day.)
No. (Mild irritation, but not at Richie. He was just annoyed at never knowing what anyone was talking about- but hopefully the ipod would at least help with some of that.
His nose wrinkles up at Richie and he gives an indignant sniff.)
Elvis is always cool. Shut up. He came before all your crap, you know. That means he's the first.
[Richie can't help but snicker over Eddie's reaction. He really doesn't care about Elvis either way, but he does care about the face that Eddie's making. He leans over and ruffles his hair.
He's intent on trying to egg his friend on more.]
Nah, he's really lame. If you wanna know good music, I can tell ya good music. There's Madonna, and Michael Jackson, David Bowie, Barbara Streisand---
(Wow he literally knows where you sleep, Richie Tozier. He squawks when his hair is ruffled and instantly tries to shove Richie's arm away. Jeeeerk!
Eddie was in optimal egging-on mode and it was going to take almost no effort at all.)
He is NOT.
(Look at his cheeks puff up. Wow Richie are you making a gay joke.
R u d e. Eddie grabs one of his pillows and gently shoves it down on top of Richie's head, crawling right on up on top of Richie to lovingly try and smother his friend to death.)
[His subsequent squealing is muffled by the pillow. Richie flails his arms in an exaggerated manner. His hands settle on Eddie's sides not long after, intent on tickling him.]
You wear Hawaiian shirts! (Now Eddie is full on shrieking. Maybe not as loud as he could back home or on the station, but still.)
You can't even begin to comment on fashion when you have none.
(He presses a little harder on the pillow. He jolts a bit when Richie initially touches his sides, but then calms down. At least until it's clear why those hands are there. Betrayal.
Eddie gives another shriek and removes the pillow only to swat it at Richie's face a second later.)
Agh! Don't tickle! (Except................he's starting to giggle his brains out.)
[or he thinks so, and ultimately that's what matters. Just be glad he hasn't learned about the truly awful fashion trends of the 90s. It could always be so much worse.
He gets a couple more tickles in before he starts. Richie isn't always great at multitasking, and being smacked with a pillow is more than enough to distract him with a fit of laughter instead.
Even when the laughter subsides, he has this compulsive need to just smile. His face hurts from it but he can't stop.
Eddie is just too cute, wow.]
Are you sure you don't want some more? [He makes some tickling motions at the air.]
(Eddie makes some vague gestures and goes a little red in the face. You know what. Who cared!!
He's persistent in his pillow fight. Of course he could just ...get off of Richie to avoid being tickled but literally where was the fun in that? No where that's where.
Eddie stares down at Richie, holding his pillow above his head, but doesn't bring it back down. He can practically hear Richie calling him cute in his head, and he drops the pillow behind him. Instead, he shoves a hand at Richie's face.)
Stop looking at me like that. (And before Richie can even say something like 'Like what!' Eddie carries on.) You have that dopey face you get sometimes whenever you start grabbing my face and calling me cute.
(It's so bad he knows this by now. He swats at Richie's hands.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Delivery - 3/1
Attached to the bottle is a note:
Look at what I got!
It's been months. I'm pretty sure somewhere thats considered child abuse. Anyway, drink up.
-Eddie.)
no subject
It tastes like home--not the dreary, too quiet, too empty house in Derry, but the warm summer days at the quarry. It feels like a different time--it's a memory filled with laughter, good tunes, good times--an innocent memory, one that's not tainted by everything horrible and awful that Derry had to offer. Self-control and pacing himself are things that Richie never quite learned. The soda is gone far too quickly, but he savors every bit of it. And he feels happy. Elated. Maybe it's just the sugar hitting his system all at once, but it's a great feeling.
The note gingerly gets tucked under his mattress, the bottle recapped and set aside before venturing out of the garage to find Eddie. He could just leave a note--it's what he's done in the past--or he could send a text. Instead, he tracks him down and immediately drapes himself over Eddie, squeezing his best friend as tightly as he can, pressing his nose against Eddie's cheek as his face scrunches up in a broad grin.
It's not Richie if there isn't an edge of obnoxiousness in his affection, after all.
And very, very quietly, as much as he can manage:] You're the best, you know that?
no subject
He couldn't help but think that the only thing better than a coke would be getting to drink it with a vanilla ice cream cone. That would be the best.
But he was glad for the coke he had, and he put the remaining three bottles in the fridge. Unlike Richie, he was busy savoring his coke a little more. It was still gonna be gone in an hour, but at least he was stretching it out. He's sitting cross legged in his bed, an ipod in front of him attached to some headphones, as well as something neither Richie or Eddie were familiar: a portable speaker system that the ipod could sync up with.
He's not thinking about that when Richie comes in. Because a second later he's got Richie Tozier draping all over him and despite himself, his arms wind up wrapped tight around Richie and he's smiling at the affection. Relief sizzles in his gut. A part of him...
Well. He supposed he was worrying about nothing after all.)
I'm really not. (His voice is just as quiet, though it doesn't really need to be. Not anymore in his room, anyway.)
I wanted to get you something nice too. I'm glad I got the coke randomly. (He rubs a hand over the top of Richie's head, relishing a bit in the affection.)
no subject
[It's sound logic to Richie, and there's really no dissuading him. He's always thought the best of Eddie, and he can't ever imagine a hypothetical scenario where that's not true. A lot of things can shake him, but there's nothing that can make that singular belief waver.
He sighs fondly, eventually letting go of Eddie in favor of settling beside him. It's only after that he realizes that Eddie's--connected to wires? And a box? It doesn't register as a music device; that's not a Walkman, and those don't look like the sort of headphones he's familiar with.
It's nothing medical. Richie knows that. Eddie isn't sick, and if he was--well, there's not a doubt in his mind that he'd know already. That doesn't stop the pang of worry, and ultimately he has to ask.]
The fuck is that?
no subject
(He knew being here was especially difficult for Richie. Even a small something nice felt right to give to him. Instinctively, he leans into Richie's side as his best friend settles beside him. Rogue had showed him the ipod back on the station, and so had Tony, but it doesn't dawn on him that Richie hadn't seen those things yet.
So when he asks, Eddie gets a bit of a gleam in his eyes.)
This? (He picks up the ipod and is suddenly jittery with excitement.) Oh man, you've never seen it? It's the best thing ever. Hold on.
(Eddie crawls out of bed to rush over and shut his bedroom door. He goes back to the bed and picks the ipod up and turns it on. It's smooth and brand new. It was a little confusing to Eddie at first, but thankfully the words in it were all pretty standard. He had fussed around with it for a while to figure things out. He taps around and the speaker in front of them lights up.
'Connected to APPLESAUCE' is spoken in a soft, automatic voice. He taps a few more things and then music starts to quietly play a moment later and Eddie whips his head around to gauge Richie's reaction.)
no subject
[Digital music is way after his time, and definitely past Eddie's, but Richie assumes that if Eddie has this device, he probably understands it a whole lot more than Richie does. But really, it's not actually an important question; it's just one of those thoughtless ones that comes out as he marvels over how cool it is. What's even cooler is how it's connected to speakers and how? His conclusion is that there must be invisible cords somewhere. He's so convinced of this that he waves his hand to try to catch the cord on his hand, but all he gets is air. Weird.
The song is nice though, catchy, and he enjoys listening to it. It's so different than anything he listened to before, but he figures this must be some kind of future music. A future music song about stuff he can't relate to at all. Except something something about kissing. That's all it takes for his thoughts to drift to places it shouldn't.]
Hey, what do you do when you want to change albums?
no subject
There isn't one. I don't fully understand how it works, but I think it's technology similar to our devices. Someone told me it has to do with like, radio waves. That kind of thing.
(Which made enough sense. After all, it wasn't like every TV back home was connected by wires to the same place. That'd be insane.)
Kinda like how I can touch you without touching you? (He offers as a way of explanation, then proceeds to blow some air against Richie's cheek. The question distracts him from fussing with Richie, and he sprawls out onto his belly, gesturing for Richie to look. He taps around and goes to 'Albums' and then there's suddenly dozens and dozens. All with little itty bitty pictures. The overwhelming majority were songs Eddie didn't know. But there were some from the fifties in there. He scrolls through a bit.)
Got any requests? I think this thing has eveeerything. Or just about, anyway.
no subject
[Weird, but cool, and he doesn't quite understand it at all. He accepts the answer easily enough for now, though; he can at least get that some things just are. He laughs when Eddie blows air at him, and not long after Eddie lays down, Richie flops beside him, watching the magic happen right before his very eyes.]
Play something with a lot of cuss words! [Is there a mischievous glint in his eyes? You can bet your sweet ass there is.]
no subject
You're gonna love this guy. He sings really weird? Like. He kind of talks instead of sings. But I like it. He makes a lot of jokes in his songs too.
(Some of the songs were a little intense and scary, but Eddie oddly found that he liked those too. Even if they were graphic. He taps over The Real Slim Shady and let's it play. He takes a peek at Richie, grinning a little because gosh. When was the last time he got to thrill Richie with vulgarity? Didn't happen near enough.)
Music from the future is wild. I can't believe Elvis Presley was ever considered dirty.
no subject
I love this kind of music. It's hip-hop, but it's a lot different than the kind I've heard before. Like Young MC and the Beastie Boys. Have you heard them yet? Look at you Eds, becoming a modern boy.
Was the Elvis thing bad because of the hip thing he did? He's not really cool anymore.
no subject
No. (Mild irritation, but not at Richie. He was just annoyed at never knowing what anyone was talking about- but hopefully the ipod would at least help with some of that.
His nose wrinkles up at Richie and he gives an indignant sniff.)
Elvis is always cool. Shut up. He came before all your crap, you know. That means he's the first.
no subject
He's intent on trying to egg his friend on more.]
Nah, he's really lame. If you wanna know good music, I can tell ya good music. There's Madonna, and Michael Jackson, David Bowie, Barbara Streisand---
[There's a joke in here somewhere.]
no subject
Eddie was in optimal egging-on mode and it was going to take almost no effort at all.)
He is NOT.
(Look at his cheeks puff up. Wow Richie are you making a gay joke.
R u d e. Eddie grabs one of his pillows and gently shoves it down on top of Richie's head, crawling right on up on top of Richie to lovingly try and smother his friend to death.)
Shh.
no subject
[His subsequent squealing is muffled by the pillow. Richie flails his arms in an exaggerated manner. His hands settle on Eddie's sides not long after, intent on tickling him.]
no subject
You can't even begin to comment on fashion when you have none.
(He presses a little harder on the pillow. He jolts a bit when Richie initially touches his sides, but then calms down. At least until it's clear why those hands are there. Betrayal.
Eddie gives another shriek and removes the pillow only to swat it at Richie's face a second later.)
Agh! Don't tickle! (Except................he's starting to giggle his brains out.)
no subject
[or he thinks so, and ultimately that's what matters. Just be glad he hasn't learned about the truly awful fashion trends of the 90s. It could always be so much worse.
He gets a couple more tickles in before he starts. Richie isn't always great at multitasking, and being smacked with a pillow is more than enough to distract him with a fit of laughter instead.
Even when the laughter subsides, he has this compulsive need to just smile. His face hurts from it but he can't stop.
Eddie is just too cute, wow.]
Are you sure you don't want some more? [He makes some tickling motions at the air.]
no subject
(Eddie makes some vague gestures and goes a little red in the face. You know what. Who cared!!
He's persistent in his pillow fight. Of course he could just ...get off of Richie to avoid being tickled but literally where was the fun in that? No where that's where.
Eddie stares down at Richie, holding his pillow above his head, but doesn't bring it back down. He can practically hear Richie calling him cute in his head, and he drops the pillow behind him. Instead, he shoves a hand at Richie's face.)
Stop looking at me like that. (And before Richie can even say something like 'Like what!' Eddie carries on.) You have that dopey face you get sometimes whenever you start grabbing my face and calling me cute.
(It's so bad he knows this by now. He swats at Richie's hands.)
N-o. That's abuse.