Whumptober 2020|| Reddie

15. Manhandling

A/N: There's really not that much whump in this, but oH WeLl enjoy the fluff while it lasts

⚠️Trigger Warning: Homophobic slurs⚠️

Music pounded from the school building, beating in time with Richie's heart. He stared in apprehension at the school, heart feeling as though it would beat out of his chest.

Richie glanced over at Eddie, who looked just as nervous as Richie felt. His fingers slipped easily into Eddie's and he squeezed comfortingly. He took a deep steadying breath. It was just prom. Just senior prom. It'd be fine.

When Richie had shown up on Eddie's doorstep earlier that evening, Sonia had almost had a stroke. She'd screamed that she wouldn't allow Eddie to go, that he'd caught Richie's nasty sickness, resulting in an epic yelling match between them (during which Richie stood uncomfortably in the kitchen), with a lot of tears on Sonia's part. Eddie didn't sway, though his eyes looked a bit glassy as he stomped out of the house with Richie in tow.

They'd told the other losers to go to the dance without them, since they'd be late, but now Richie wished they hadn't. It'd be much less daunting if the others were standing at their side. But they were inside, just get inside and it. Would. Be. Fine.

He and Eddie approached the man sitting half-asleep at a table strewn with tickets. Richie cleared his throat slightly, pulling out their tickets. "Hi."

The man, who Richie recognized to be one of the math teachers- Mr. Gordon- sat up. He took in the two nervous boys standing in front of him.

Maybe they could've passed as just friends in other circumstances. And if they'd gone with the others, they probably could have. But they were still holding hands, and the knowledge that they were dating had spread like wildfire throughout the school, so much so that even the teachers must've heard.

Whatever the case, Mr. Gordon shook his head. "No queers allowed."

Anger bubbled inside Richie, anger that had already been dangerously close to boiling over as Sonia had yelled at Eddie that she hadn't raised a fag. "You can't do that. We have just as much of a right to be here as anyone else."

Mr. Gordon's face was masklike, barely betraying a flicker of emotion. "You are not allowed in," he repeated, settling back in his chair. "We don't want any faggots at senior prom."

(A/N: if only he knew about Bill and Stan... ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) )

Richie gritted his teeth in frustration and threw their tickets on the table. He moved towards the door. "Well, I suppose you and all the other dipshit homophobes will just have to fucking deal with it."

The fist came seemingly out of nowhere, hitting Richie squarely in the jaw. Pain flared through his face as Richie stumbled back slightly. Eddie surged forwards, face set in determination.

"Stay out of it, Eds," Richie said, wiping a bit of blood from his mouth. "I'm fine."

Mr. Gordon slammed Richie against the wall, clutching the collar of his shirt. "Run along now," he said quietly. "I don't want to see you fags here again tonight. Understand?"

Richie yanked away. "Fine," he seethed, turning to Eddie. "C'mon, Eds. Let's just go."

Eddie looked reluctant, his hands balled into fists. "He can't just-"

"Come on," Richie repeated, gently pulling him away. "It'd just make it worse."

He nodded, then whipped around to face Mr. Gordon. "Fuck you, asshole!" Eddie yelled out to him, flipping him the finger with both hands. Then, he turned back around and rested his head on Richie's shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Richie said moodily. He kicked the gravel as they walked without really paying attention to where they were headed. Before he could stop himself, he added, "What the fuck did we do to them, anyway?"

"We existed."

Richie laughed slightly. "Jesus, Spaghetti, you sound almost as cheerful as Stanny."

Eddie sighed. "Let's just . . . I don't know. Let's just go to the clubhouse or something."

"Very well then, guv'nor!" Richie cried, merrily pulling him along. "Pip pip and tally ho, then, my good fellow! I do believe we ought to be there in time for a spot of tea, don't you?"

Eddie laughed- a bright, cheerful sound that seemed to cut through the remaining gloom. Richie thought, smiling, that he could hear Eddie's laugh a million times and never get bored of it.

"Here we go, then!" Richie said, still with that awful-sounding British accent. "After you, Spaghetti Man." He opened the trapdoor with a flourish.

They piled into the clubhouse, shutting the trapdoor and sending them into semi-darkness. Richie grabbed a flashlight, sticking it under his face. "Hope you're not afraid of the dark, Eds."

"Oh, shut up." Eddie flipped a small switch on the ground, turning on little lights that lined the walls. Bev had put them up a few weeks ago.

Richie pulled out a record, wiggling his eyebrows. "Wanna dance?"

"To what, Bohemian Rhapsody? There is no way to dance to that song. It's undanceable."

"Challenge accepted, me foine foine man." He placed the record on the player, started it, and grinned. The music started almost immediately.

Is this the real life? Is it just a fantasy?

"Oh my goddddddd," Eddie groaned, hiding his flushed face in his hands. Richie was on his knees, mouthing the words animatedly. "Maybe it's a good thing they didn't let us in, if this is what you would've done," he added jokingly as Richie began to spin wildly.

"Ah, you love it, Eds! That's what makes you so chuckalicious."

Eventually, the song ended, and Richie looked up, grinning, as the next began. He held out an arm and said in a new Voice, "Would y' tayke this dayunce, mah love?"

Eddie flushed, managing only the words, "What the fuck is that Voice supposed to be?" He stood up, taking Richie's hand.

Richie was a surprisingly graceful dancer. He led Eddie around the cramped space as the music bounced off the walls.

"The losers must be wondering where the fuck we are," Eddie murmured, smiling slightly.

"They probably think we're having a threesome with your mom, Eds."

Eddie spluttered. "Oh god, beep beep, Trashmouth." He couldn't repress a small snort of laughter, and Richie grinned triumphantly.

Eventually, they stopped dancing and, with a yawn, clambered into the hammock. They leaned into each other, listening to the crickets and rustling outside. The events of earlier faded slightly as Richie rested his head on Eddie's shoulder and felt a soft wave of calm flow through him.

A/N: Halfway done, AAAAAHHH. I'm sorta falling behind on these but I'll still do my best to not continue being a master procrastinator.