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“What is wrong with you?” “What is wrong with me ? What is wrong with you ?”
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© Bienvenue Power Bottoms 2018–2022. Powered by Tumblr . Theme by Artcore
Five times Eddie wore Richie’s clothes, and the slow progression of their love.
Read on AO3 (seriously, the formatting always gets messed up on tumblr, pls read it on AO3 if you can it’s way better I promise)
I. Eddie was a thief. A dirty little thief whose closet was filled almost halfway with clothes that were not his own. Richie should have been pissed, what with his clothes constantly disappearing, only to pop back up a month later on Eddie’s shoulders. But how could Richie be upset when Eddie seemed to have such a propensity for only stealing his clothes. It was never Bill’s flannels, even though his were softer than Richie’s. It was never Stan’s shirts, even though his would fit Eddie’s style better than Richie’s ever did. It was only ever Richie’s.
If he were being honest with himself, Richie’s adoration for Eddie might have something to do with how little he cared. He wasn’t sure if he’d be quite so unbothered if it were Mike or Ben stealing half his wardrobe. But Eddie… well there was something soothing about seeing Eddie wear his clothes. Richie could allow himself to imagine for just a moment that it was something intimate, something purposeful on Eddie’s part.
The first time it happened was when they were eleven, and Eddie had broken his arm. Richie hadn’t known what to do, floundering around his best friend as he yelled in pain. He’d settled on taking off his button down and wrapping it around Eddie’s arm, as if it could stop the internal bleeding the way it would an external wound. It hadn’t worked, obviously, but Eddie had still disappeared into the ambulance with Hawaiian print wrapped around his broken bone as if it were protecting him from the pain. Richie had all but forgotten about his shirt after that, too focused on Eddie’s recovery to give a shit about where it had ended up in the midst of everything, until a few months later when Eddie had shown up to school in it.
Richie had nearly dropped to his knees when he’d seen it; tiny little Eddie Kaspbrak, rocking his signature track shorts and polo shirts, now accompanied by an ill-fitting button down that was definitely not his own.
Richie’s pre-teen heart had gone completely erratic as unfamiliar feelings clawed their way up his spine, but all he’d been able to do was stare as Eddie came bounding up to him, waving with his castless arm and a huge smile on his face.
He’d been completely unaware that he’d turned Richie’s entire world upside down.
II. Things continued to progress after that. A couple more of Richie’s shirts went missing here and there, but what Eddie really seemed to love were his sweaters. Over the next few years, Eddie would come to steal so many of Richie’s sweaters that he eventually stopped buying them with himself in mind. When Richie went shopping, he now picked out sweaters he knew Eddie would like, because it was no longer a question of would Eddie end up with them, but rather when.
It’s not like Richie never saw his sweaters again. About half of Eddie’s wardrobe was actually Richie’s, so he’d see them in rotation every now and then. But even with a collection as big as Eddie’s had grown, it only ever took a couple months for him to strike again.
It was a random night in October, on their second year of high school, when Richie finally questioned Eddie about his habits.
The Losers were all gathered in Bill’s living room watching A Nightmare on Elm Street, cozied up in various configurations around the room. Richie and Eddie had taken up the couch, curled into one another as they shared a bowl of popcorn.
It wasn’t long into the movie before Eddie began pawing at Richie’s hoodie.
Richie shot him a look of intrigue, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.
“Gimme your hoodie, I’m cold.” Eddie whispered.
“Get your own hoodie.” Richie responded, not actually bothered by the request, but intent on fighting it just a little bit.
Eddie pouted. “Come on Rich! I’m gonna turn into a popsicle.” He whispered again, tugging on the hood and subsequently choking Richie.
“Aye! Okay okay, calm down you little gremlin!” Richie hushed back, putting enough space between them that he could pull his sweater over his head and hand it to an annoyingly smug looking Eddie.
“Why do you always steal my clothes anyway, huh? Why not Ben’s or Mike’s?” Richie asked, watching as Eddie shimmied into the oversized sweater. “You creating a shrine to me or something, Kaspbrak? Tryna summon a sex demon that looks exactly like me?” Richie leaned in close, waggling his eyebrows and smirking.
But instead of the laughter he was expecting, Eddie stiffened up, and Richie immediately wanted to swallow back his words. He watched as a scowl settled into Eddie’s features before Richie could even figure out what he’d done wrong.
“They’re just comfy, asshole. If it’s that big of a deal I’ll give them back.” Eddie mumbled, slouching further down into the couch and crossing his arms.
Richie’s brain struggled with the sudden tone shift, leaving him gaping at Eddie like a fish out of water.
Just as he was about to open his mouth and make another series of questionable jokes born out of desperation for Eddie’s attention, Stan saved the day.
By throwing a pillow at Richie’s face.
“Ow!” Richie protested loudly, causing a chorus of shushes.
“Go flirt somewhere else. I’m trying to watch Freddy Krueger drown Nancy.” Stan whisper-shouted from his spot on the floor.
Richie’s face reddened about three shades, and he was suddenly glad for the darkness in the room. In an effort to save face, he turned back to Eddie, now preparing himself to make a joke at Stan’s expense, but instead he was met with tired eyes.
“Just watch the movie, Richie.” Eddie seemed to beg, and for once Richie’s self-preservation encouraged him to drop it.
That was when Richie learned his lesson: never question Eddie’s motives.
Thankfully, Richie’s blunder didn’t shake Eddie up for long. Within a week he’d seemed to have forgotten their conversation entirely, reverting to his old habits with one of Richie’s vintage band t-shirts as collateral. Richie was more than happy to see it go if it meant he could release the tension he’d been carrying since putting his foot in his mouth at Bill’s last week.
Months went by and eventually the conversation slipped Richie’s mind as well, falling behind the metaphorical couch in his brain and allowing Richie to once again tease Eddie about his penchant for Richie-specific clothing.
“You have thighs chiseled from marble and an ass that would make the queen of England faint. You’re not gonna-”
“Eds, just switch with Bill! His pants are looser and his scrawny chicken legs can probably fit into my jeans easier-”
Eddie stood before Richie with a victorious smile on his face, panting from the exertion of trying to wriggle into skinny jeans two sizes too small.
Two sizes too small, which resulted in a less than family friendly view before him.
“Eds…” Richie swallowed thickly, his eyes glued to the prominent bulge that Eddie was now sporting. It was fucking sinful, honestly, and Richie had to force himself to look away before he popped a boner and made this whole situation very uncomfortable.
“What, do they look bad?” Eddie asked, Richie’s reaction clearly having planted a seed of doubt in Eddie’s mind. He was quick to snuff it out, not wanting Eddie to get the wrong idea.
“No! No, they look great, I’ve just… Never seen you in skinny jeans.” Richie offered, hoping it was a decent enough explanation.
Eddie nodded, turning to look at himself in the full-length mirror and giving Richie a proper view of the way his jeans stretched across Eddie’s backside. It was enough to make a guy dizzy.
“Right, well the rest of the guys are probably waiting on us, so.” Richie stood up from Ben’s bed, his bottom half only clad in boxers after giving Eddie his pants.
“Thanks Richie.” Eddie said quietly, still staring at himself in the mirror. “I’m just not comfortable with my body the way you are. I couldn’t have sat in my underwear all afternoon while my pants got washed.”
“Hey, don’t sweat it Eddie spaghetti. We’re doing everyone a favor by putting my goodies on display.” Richie did a little wiggle that was his awkward attempt at showing off said ‘goodies’, and was pleased when it earned him a laugh. But still, Eddie didn’t move from the mirror.
“That’s crazy, by the way.” Richie ventured on, his trash mouth guided by Eddie’s clear vulnerability.
Eddie made eye contact with him in the mirror, raising one eyebrow in question.
“The whole thing with your body and… Not feeling…” Richie waved his hand in the air, trying to string together thoughts that were being shaken around by his racing heartbeat. After a moment he sighed, resigning himself to a moment of ineloquence.
“You’re fucking hot, Eds. It’s a damn shame you don’t see it.”
Eddie’s face seemed to flush a bright red, but then again, that could have just been the lighting in Ben’s room playing tricks on Richie’s eyes.
“I’m not-” Eddie began to protest, but Richie wasn’t having it. If there was one good thing that could come of today’s spilt milkshake, it was a rise in Eddie’s confidence. Even if just momentarily.
“You are.” Richie insisted, coming up behind Eddie and gripping his arms. He pivoted the smaller boy, angling him to the side so he could see himself the way Richie saw him.
“This?” Richie pointed to Eddie’s ass. “Insane. Should be illegal, honestly. You could probably take someone out with this.”
“Richie!” Eddie quickly re-righted himself, swatting at Richie for bringing up something he’d know would embarrass him.
“What! I’m just telling the truth, your honor.” Richie held up one hand, placing the other on his chest as if he were in a court room. “I, Richie Tozier, do solemnly swear that I am telling the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
“Whatever.” Eddie rolled his eyes, pushing past Richie. “Let’s go, I want to enjoy at least some of my afternoon.”
But even through his feigned annoyance, Richie noticed the way Eddie’s mouth quirked up at the sides, the way he stood taller than he had a few moments ago, and he counted that as enough of a victory for today.
He followed Eddie back downstairs, a newfound giddiness in his step and a gratitude, once again, that Eddie always insisted on borrowing his clothes.
Richie was used to climbing the tree outside Eddie’s window, had grown to be quite skilled at it in fact. What used to take his gawky, uncoordinated limbs a full five minutes to climb now only took him thirty seconds, as he scaled the branches with years of expertise.
Eddie knew Richie always visited on Friday nights. It had been their ritual for at least a year now; Richie would crawl through Eddie’s window and they would spend the night discussing the last week’s escapades, their plans for the weekend, their hopes and dreams.
So, Richie was confused when he rapped on Eddie’s window, peeking through it and catching the tail end of what seemed like the kind of moment he was not supposed to intrude on.
“Shit!” Eddie’s voice was muffled through the glass pane, but Richie could still hear the accompanying movement as he watched Eddie throw his blankets over himself in a haste, throwing something under his bed and letting his arms disappear beneath the covers to help shimmy something up.
Richie’s brain knew this dance very well.
“What the fuck, Richie!?” Eddie whispered angrily as he opened his window.
“Did you forget I was coming, Eds?” Richie teased, defaulting to humor to cover up how affected he was by what he’d just witnessed. Or rather, almost witnessed.
“It’s Thursday!” Eddie protested, pointing to his calendar in frustration.
Despite his glasses, Richie still had to squint to see the calendar pinned to the wall across the bedroom. But sure enough…
“Well I’ll be. I never was good at math.”
“HOW IS THAT MATH.” Eddie shout whispered, still warry to wake up Sonia even though she could probably sleep through a nuclear apocalypse.
“Well, Eds, care to explain what I just walked in on on this fine Thursday night?”
Eddie glared at him, clearly not impressed. “What, do I have to explain the birds and the bees to you, Rich?”
“Oh no, I am well acquainted with both birds and bees, I just didn’t know my little Eddie K. was as well.”
Richie felt like his stomach was trying to claw its way out his esophagus. He was hanging on Eddie’s every word, humor on his tongue ready to deflect at any moment if things got too close to the truth.
“Yeah, well some of us don’t go around announcing every new pubic hair we get.” Eddie bit back.
“It’s up to 137 now, thanks for asking.” Richie chimed back.
Eddie rolled his eyes, moving to push his window back down and end the conversation.
“Hey wait! You’re not gonna let me in?” Richie protested, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the windowsill.
“It’s Thursday.” Eddie repeated, as if that answered his question.
“Right. Thursday is scheduled wank day, got it. Well then, don’t let me interrupt you any more than I already have. I’ll just be off, heading home to wank by my lonesome. Forever wishing I had a buddy who-” Richie’s words fell short as he finally noticed what Eddie was wearing. He almost lost his balance as he fully registered the situation.
“Are those my boxers?” Richie asked incredulously, staring openly at Eddie’s crotch where a pair of Richie’s own boxers hung off Eddie’s hips.
Within a second the window was snapped shut and the curtains pulled closed, and Richie was left to sit in disbelief at what he’d just seen.
When had Eddie gotten a pair of his boxers?
Class rings were tacky, there was no denying it. They were always made out of cheap metal that turned your skin green, far too bulky to look good, and engraved with some cheesy school moto that didn’t reflect the average high school experience. Richie was convinced that the only people who really liked class rings were those who were already in their prime, destined to go downhill after graduation with this flimsy piece of jewelry as their only memory of their golden years.
So then why did he buy one? Well…
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