We Have Each Other // Reddie

Sleeping With Monsters, Waking With You

"Hey Eddie ol' pal, I gotta question for ya."

Eddie looked up from the rusty nail he was fiddling with, his face curious. He'd been down at the Barrens since late morning helping the other Losers build the underground clubhouse. At least, he was helping as much as he could. He could do some heavy lifting, but it tired him out easily and made his lungs protest. So he mostly stuck to helping carry supplies from the junkyard and bringing Bill and Ben nails and other tools when they needed them. Now he was taking a break in the shade, sitting by himself while Bill, Beverly, Ben and Richie worked. Or at least he had been until moments ago.

"Sure, hit me with it Richie," he said as the other boy approached him.

"Hit you? Me? Hitting my little Eddie-boy?" Richie gasped out, in the dramatic voice of a worried mother. He grabbed Eddie's shoulders and shook them. "My baby boy I would never!"

Eddie shoved him away. "Piss off and just ask your question, numb nuts."

"Alright fine," Richie said, dropping to just his normal voice. This made Eddie mutter out a "thank God" that the other boy chose to ignore. Instead he just continued on with his query. "My mom and dad got invited to some dinner party tomorrow night. Since it's a Friday and all, they won't be back until real late, like the A.M.'s my mom said. So she said I should have a friend over. I guess with everything going on she's a'scared I might go running off on my own and get myself torn up." He stopped to smirk, lifting up his hair to show the ugly scar that was still there from his and Bill's visit to Neibolt Street. "Little does she know, I'm a right expert at almost getting myself killed with or without someone else there."

Eddie winced at the sight of it. It twisted his stomach knowing how close It was to getting Richie. Richie had sworn It had become the werewolf from the dumb movie at the Aladdin, and the gash was enough to prove it. But Eddie knew that Richie's parents would never see the blood on his head. Just like Bev's parents couldn't see the blood in her bathroom and Bill's couldn't see the blood in that photo album.

The thought made him shiver, and he made an active decision to focus on the other part of what Richie had said.

"So you're asking me to sleep over?"

Richie nodded. "Yeah, why not? If anyone could protect little ol' me from this town's Big Scary Kid Killer it's Huffin' Puffin' Eddie amiright?" He tried to ruffle Eddie's hair, but the smaller boy shrank away.

Richie let up and Eddie straightened, acting like he was weighing his options heavily. "Alright, I'll come over if my mom gives me the okay. But if you ever call me 'Huffin' Puffin' Eddie' again, I'm letting It eat you for breakfast."

"Sounds like a deal to me," Richie said. "I feel like I'd make a nice platter of scrambled eggs."

At that both boys cracked up, their laughter only dying down when they were interrupted by Beverly. She emerged from inside the clubhouse and called out to them.

"We're down here doing all this work, and you two nutters have been sitting in the shade for ages," she huffed out, her smile giving away her underlying amusement.

"Oh I'm so saw-ry Miss Scawlett, I didun mean ta make you mad! I'm goan ta come help you right now, Miss. You is right, we was bein' a buncha no good-"

"B-B-Beep-beep, R-Richie," Bill called up from the hole.

And with that Richie got up and held out an arm to Eddie, heaving him to his feet. The two were still stifling giggles as they made their way back to the clubhouse.

The five of them worked until the sun started to get lower, marking the approaching curfew. They then started cleaning up their tools and mess, laughing in childlike humor along the way. The clubhouse was coming along steadily, and the inner walls were nearly finished. Ben offered up some candies to celebrate another day of hard work. Beverly opened a fresh pack of cigarettes, handing one to Richie and lighting one for herself. Eddie patted his pocket to make sure he had his aspirator, still not willing to take any risks of forgetting it and having to retrieve it alone. Not after what happened last time.