No One But You ✔️ Reddie

Two

Eddie leapt up from the beanbag chair. He'd been staring at the clock. 'That's ten minutes, Richie,' he announced, swaggering over to the hammock where Richie lay comfortably, skimming a comic book.

Richie didn't look up. 'I don't see a sign.'

Eddie ripped the issue from his hands, forcing Richie to exclaim in protest and flash his eyes at him. 'For the last fucking time: we don't need a sign,' he insisted.

'I'm starting to think we should get a sign,' Stan mumbled under his breath, rolling his eyes at Mike, who smirked.

Richie snatched back his comic.

'Every f-f-fucking day.' Bill sighed as Eddie inevitably climbs into the other end of the hammock with Richie, like he always does, squeezing his legs into the space Richie doesn't admit that he creates for him.

'Cue the foot in the face,' Bev chuckled, lighting a cigarette.

Mike counted down, 'Three, two, one.'

Richie's glasses clattered to the floor. 'Fuck you, Spaghetti.'

Eddie kept kicking and the hammock swayed precariously. 'Wouldn't happen if you could just respect the rules for fucking once.' He began to jab his toes into Richie's ribcage, which made him squirm uncontrollably.

'Stop it, Eds. You're gonna flip us both out of this thing again.' Richie steadied himself by grabbing at Eddie's foot, which also prevented it from tickling him.

'Good, then you're out and I can get back in by myself.' He kicked his other leg and Richie grabbed for it. The hammock threatened to spill them both to the floor.

'Don't break it,' Ben whimpered, scratching nervously underneath the elastic of his shower cap.

'Didn't break when I was fucking Eddie's mom in it,' Richie shrugged, struggling against the force of Eddie's legs against his hands.

'Watch it, Richie,' Eddie warned.

'And if it can take her fat ass,' Richie snorted.

'That's it.' Eddie clambered up to pummel at Richie's stomach, his knees either side of Richie's bony hips. 'Beep beep, Richie.'

'Fuck, stop, it was a joke. It was a joke!' Richie grappled for Eddie's arms and managed, with some effort, to restrain him once more, laughing at Eddie's lowered eyelids and angry pink cheeks.

Eddie, his anger subsiding, felt suddenly awkward at the position they found themselves in, himself leaning over Richie, Richie's hands wrapped around his wrists. He looked down at Richie's smiling face, eyes seeming smaller now that they were unobstructed by his thick lenses, freckles breaking out over his nose. Eddie coughed and tore his hands away, shuffling backwards, cheeks still pink. Hurriedly, he fumbled for his comic. No longer smiling, Richie followed suit.

Eddie peeked over the top of the pages. Richie was peeking over his. Their eyes met momentarily, before Eddie hastily returned his gaze to the comic.

'Take a picture, it'll last longer.' Eddie muttered. When Richie didn't respond, he peeked over the comic again. Richie was reading his own. He wriggled, uncomfortable, then settled.

Richie was only pretending to read. He couldn't without his glasses on, he could only make out blurry shapes and colours. He hoped no one could see his flushed face.

The losers chatted, and the afternoon relentlessly wore on. Sleepy, dizzied, Richie dozed off. His toes twitched as he dreamed.

Richie stirred when the hammock shifted its weight distribution. Then he felt something on his face. Instinctively he batted at it, his eyes fluttering open.

'Eds, what are you doing?' Richie asked, his voice husky.

Eddie was standing on the floor beside Richie. He poked at the bar across the bridge of Richie's nose. 'I was putting your glasses back on.' He shuffled in his tube socks. 'You might have stepped on them when you got up.'

Richie's vision cleared as he blinked. The world surged in clarity, lenses back in front of his eyes. Eddie came into sharp focus; brown eyes, brown hair, olive skin. The shorts that were too short, the red fanny-pack. 'Oh, right. Thanks.' He craned his neck to look over Eddie's shoulder. 'Where is everyone?'

Quietly, Eddie admitted, 'They left a while ago.'

'Why didn't you wake me?' Richie groaned, but the question was sincere.

Eddie shrugged. 'I don't know. I was comfy.' He blushed then quickly added, 'And when you're asleep is the only time you fucking shut up.'

Richie shoved him, then he groaned, aching. 'Ugh, come on then. Let's get out of here. Help me up.' Innocently, he held out his hand.

Eddie hesitated, then took it and hauled Richie out of the hammock. It was one thing when Richie had his hands on Eddie's ankles or his wrists when they fought, or had his arm draped over Eddie's shoulder as they walked around school, but it wasn't often that he found his hand in Richie's. His mouth dried, and his chest quivered. He considered that he might need his inhaler.

'Uh, Eds, you can let go now.' Richie said.

Eddie snatched his hand away and rolled his eyes before making his way over to the ladder to escape the hideout. As he climbed it occurred to him that Richie didn't let go either.