Princess, Knight and Dragon ✔️ Reddie

Dip You In Honey

Pen poised in his hand, Richie had been staring at the same blank piece of paper for the best part of an hour. Nothing was coming into his head. He'd told his agent that he was ready to start writing his own material again, but Richie felt like he couldn't continue with the same charade, the same character that he'd been perpetuating for the best part of his career.

It felt like starting over, but Richie still wasn't ready to write about his true self, his true experiences and relationships. If he couldn't even tell the other Losers those things, then he couldn't tell the world. Half the time, he couldn't even tell himself without wincing. He didn't say these things out loud.

So, he had three options. He could regress to that familiar, trauma-induced Trashmouth persona which he had constructed as a child; he could give up on ever producing an original comedy special again; or he could come out to everyone.

He shuddered, groaned, and threw the pen down. Head in his hands, he didn't even flinch when Eddie barrelled through the front door, slamming it behind him.

'Rich, I have news,' Eddie announced dramatically, then he noticed Richie's position. 'Are you okay?'

Raising his head with a heavy inhale, Richie muttered, 'Writer's block. How you ever wrote a dozen princess stories is beyond me. I can't even write one fucking joke.'

Eddie came and sat beside him. 'Those books are just me and my memories. Don't most comedians do the same thing?'

'It's not like I can write about the clown,' Richie grumbled. 'For starters, I would sound like a psycho and that fucker is so far from funny.'

'Pennywise is not the only thing that has happened to you,' Eddie stressed. 'Look at my books. Only one is about It. The rest are just about you and me and the Losers. And you've had a whole twenty-odd years in LA where at least something funny must have happened to you.'

'You would think, wouldn't you?' Richie chuckled.

Eddie laughed, then suggested, 'Well, what about your life now? You're living with a neurotic, clean-freak, hypochondriac ex-risk analyst and his precocious daughter. That sounds like a sitcom. You have my full permission to strip me and mine for parts.'

'You want me to strip you?' Richie waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Flushing, Eddie screeched, 'Not what I meant!'

'You sure?'

Rolling his eyes, Eddie smirked, 'Well, at least you made a joke. So you must be feeling better.'

Richie slapped his hand against his head. 'For fuck's sake, I am such an asshole.'

'Did you only just realise that, or?' Eddie pursed his lips.

Richie grinned. 'You said you had news.'

'Oh, fuck!' Eddie remembered. 'Yeah.'

'Well?'

He shuffled to get comfortable, straightening his back. 'I got the job.'

Richie's eyes widened. 'You got the job?'

'I got the job!' Eddie repeated gleefully. 'So now at least one of us is employed.'

Eddie was expecting Richie to shove him for this remark, but Richie only embraced him, squeezing his arms around Eddie's shoulders.

'Congrats, Eds. Bet that's a fucking weight off your mind.'

'It's not just a weight off my mind,' he sighed, releasing Richie. 'I'm actually fucking excited. I'm going to be doing something fucking different. God, you have no idea how good it feels to know that.'