richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak (one shots)

chapter ten

credits; tingodvons on ao3

pairing; richie tozier x eddie kaspbrak

summary; "Come on! Let loose! Take a load off! Smoke a fat one with me."

"Okay, one, never say that to me again. Two, let me rephrase this for you, since it never seems to get through that thick skull of yours. I can't smoke. I have asthma. Or did you forget?"

(aka, a shotgunning fic)

notes;
 1) the boys are seventeen in this, but that is still underage, so tagged underage
2) the richie-is-a-smoker trope has a serious lack of shotgunning fics so, here you go
3) dont do drugs, or something like that  

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Richie Tozier could be a lot of things, depending on his mood. "Normal Richie setting" had him notched at louder than most, cruder than most, more reprehensible than most. "Extreme Richie setting" had him clocked to braver than most, more caring than most, more thoughtful than most. Richie Tozier was, at the end of the day, more than most.

Eddie knew this well. He knew a lot of things well; like how many germs were in the human mouth (tens of hundreds) and how many minutes it took to bike from his house to Bill's (five minutes normally, three if he really busted his ass getting there) and the few ways to get Richie to shut up ("Beep beep" was the most tame, duct tape was the least).

He knew that he probably spent too much time in Richie's company to be considered normal best friends, but then again, when had anything in Derry ever been normal.

That was a lie. Derry was the dictionary definition, look-it-up-and-see-a-picture, of normal, to the point of boring. Derry was Schrödinger's normal: everything about it screamed plain, but it screamed nonetheless. Everyone was pleasant, until the very moment you bothered to talk to them for more than five minutes. And once you hit the outskirts, you caught the quarry and the cliff-side and the barrens and everything that was the perfect setting for adventure.

Not that the Losers did any major adventuring of the sort. At most, they smoked at the quarry and snuck into the arcade with a copy of the key that Beverly had fashioned with a block of soap and carved wood. That had been her present to Richie on his fifteenth birthday, and they had used it weekly ever since. Even more since the summer had begun.

Which was where Eddie was now. A cliff-side, the quarry, discolored water, the sun stretching to touch her toes to the water and casting long shadows in the process. Summer vacation. Smoking at the quarry with Richie, legs dangling over the edge, high above the water. With the cooling air, Richie has his bomber jacket on and a pair of washed out jeans, while Eddie sticks to his bright blue polo and khakis. Richie's legs dangled significantly farther than Eddie's, growth spurts hitting him consistently throughout puberty. Eddie had not been so lucky. But here they were; watching the sun setting and smoking to her departure.

To clarify—Eddie wasn't smoking. He couldn't, actually, with some sort of asthma, unless he wanted a coughing fit and a high risk trip to the hospital and unwanted encounter with his mother. He simply sat with Richie in the sunset, enjoying the cool breeze, as the other seventeen year old lifted the joint to his lips and inhaled, chest expanding, holding it, then exhaling the obnoxious smoke.

Not that Eddie was watching him. Or anything. And not that he had a crush on his best friend, or anything. Definitely not.

It was the two of them, which was not unusual, except in the fact that it was the first week of summer and it was the first time they hadn't been in the company of the other Losers. For once, everyone else seemed to be busy, or that's what Eddie assumed. Richie had driven his beat up truck to Eddie's house and honked the horn until the other boy had rushed out the door, red in the face, calling back to his mom that he'd be back later. Once in the passenger seat, ready to rip into Richie for showing up unannounced, the offending teen held up a bag of weed. "Quarry," he had said, then floored it, without giving Eddie the opportunity to even buckle his seatbelt.