contrition || reddie

5

Notes: soz if this isn't my best work, i didn't have time to edit 😞

"There are three of them."

"Three? Why three?" Richie asks. He and Eddie are sitting on his bed, chatting aimlessly as Eddie reads a book. Some horror novel about a clown. Richie isn't interested.

"Because there are three areas they want to test," Eddie explains, "Your powers, your mind, and your body."

"My body? Ugh, do I have to do push-ups?" Richie groans. If the devil is real it's push-ups.

"Push-ups aren't that bad, you baby," Eddie laughs, and Richie glares at him.

"Easy for you to say, you're tiny and strong," Richie grumbles.

"Fuck you and thank you," Eddie turns a page, smiling.

"I've got noodle arms," Richie laments, flopping said noodle arms out in front of him.

"Hm, yeah," Eddie says absently.

"You're not supposed to agree!" Richie cries, pushing Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie laughs, breaking away from his book. "Hey, ow! Okay, okay, you could do some push-ups," He relents. "You're so jacked."

"Don't patronize me," Richie huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well, make up your mind, Tozier. Do you want the truth or do you want to be comforted?"
"I want the truth to be that I don't have noodle arms."
"Well, it's not."
"Well, you're an asshole."
"Well, honesty is the best policy."

"Shut up," Richie laughs. "Honestly, I'm impressed you're able to keep up with me. We seem to be evenly matched in annoyance."

"Nah, you're more annoying than I am," Eddie jokes.

"I know," Richie grins. "It's a talent."

"I wasn't being serious," Eddie gives him a look.

"I was," Richie shrugs. "I'm very annoying."

"Why are you so proud of it, then?"
"What else am I going to be?"
"I don't know, not annoying?"
"Impossible."
"Really."
"Ah, you love it, Eds!"

"What if I don't?" Eddie puts his book down. His tone is genuine, but his face isn't, drawn into an easy smile.

"You do. Why else would we be bickering constantly?" Richie grins and pinches Eddie's cheek. Eddie swats him away.

"Because you're always instigating!" Eddie huffs, face settling back into its near-permanent look of irritation. Neither of them admit that it's because it's fun.

"I don't know what on earth you're talking about," Richie says matter-of-factly, plotting to instigate something.

"God, you suck."
"-Your mom's dick."
"Oh my God, shut up!"

"Aw, you getting sick of me yet?" Richie face is set in a shit-eating grin. He reaches over to ruffle Eddie's hair.

"Ew, get your gross hands off of me!" Eddie exclaims, but he's grinning, too. He grabs at the offending wrist, pushing it off of his head.

Some kind of switch is flipped then, some kind of sense memory shoots through Richie's chest, and suddenly this isn't fun anymore.

"Ah," Richie makes some strangled sort of noise, trying to wriggle out of Eddie's right grasp, but Eddie hasn't picked up on the shift yet. Richie fights to stay in the moment. "Okay, okay, let me go."