It Imagines/Preferences (+ cast!)

Sweater Weather | Stan Uris

A/n: I'm running on one hour of sleep and hardcore writers block so I am so very sorry about how short it is :,(

       "Who the fuck invented weather and where can I find them so I can punch them." Richie shivered, rubbing his hands together as the Losers sat around a fire. Ben watched as the ashes rose in the air, a faint blush on his cheeks as he shyly glanced at Beverly. This didn't go unnoticed by Stan, who practically had eyes on the back of his head as he saw everything. 

      "It's not the world's fault that you're arrogant and refuse to wear anything but grandpa Hawaiian shirts." Eddie fired back, ignoring the sting on his cheeks as breeze blew past them. I buried my hands in sleeves of my light shirt, cursing my clumsiness for ruining the only warm jacket I owned just days prior. I rubbed my arms, letting out a sigh as I attempted to focus on the heat radiating from the fire, and my boyfriend Stan beside me. 

       We hadn't been dating long, everything was new and quite flustering. I didn't want to make him uncomfortable, so I merely stood waiting for a sign. Awful choice, as Stan is just as clueless as I am with these sort of things. 

       Back to Stan being Santa Claus, he quickly picked up on my shaking and reddened skin. He furrowed his eyebrows in concern, before slipping his sweater off and wrapping it around my arms, a soft smile on his face in the process. 

       "You looked cold and uh, I'm wearing thermal anyways so I'll be alright." He blushed, quickly looking away to avoid my gaze. I pulled the fabric tighter around my body, the aroma of his scent calming me enough to scoot over and take hold of his hand. 

       "Thank you, Stanley." I grinned as he looked back, a soft look on his features as his lips parted slightly. The corner of his lip twitched up as a warm smile took over, the glow of the crackling fire reflecting in his eyes as he leaned forward. 

      "Ah- I think a stick just went up my ass-" Richie shot up, rubbing his butt as he inspected the log he was just sitting on. Stan groaned, letting his forehead fall against my shoulder. 

       "That would explain a lot."