๑⁠Chilly๑

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Dick's day strolled along as it usually did. Work was turning out to be a bore these days. Fewer people staying at the hotel meant less business, and less business meant less cooking for Hallorann. He wouldn't usually mind the sudden lack of workload, but he actually liked to cook. Gave him something to do.

However, this week was different. He was glad for that gap of nothingness because he could go out and take a smoke with his work pals, the warmth of his cigarette comforting in the crisp, autumn air. The leaves of the surrounding trees had deserted, leaving the branches of their mother naked and twisting like hundreds of wrangled claws. There Dick stood now, looking up at the vast expanse of a gray, cloudy sky.

He was glad for that nothingness because he feared that if he took one step into that kitchen, he'd just fuck everything up. He had a lot on his mind. Any man in his situation would.

It's been about 4 months since Dick had been shackled by the burden of a new roommate, and, weirdly, he found he didn't mind the clown's presence as much as he thought he would. Most of the time, the creature slept, which gave Dick a fair amount of time to himself. But sometimes, during those interludes, he would find himself almost missing the clown. Pennywise's very existence in Dick's household was like one big stormcloud, but the more It stuck around, the more fascinating Dick thought It to be. Even just doing nothing. More than once, Dick would catch himself studying the clown's face as It regarded the television with boredom. It would complain and moan about the repetitiveness of the channels, how humanity is truly and rightfully doomed. But most evenings, and without fail, Pennywise would emerge from Its cave and watch The Price Is Right with Dick until bedtime.

And sometimes, Dick would watch the clown sleep. Not in a creepy way, no. Of course not. It's just that having an interdimensional entity napping in what was supposed to be your bed is not something that happens to the run-of-the-mill human being. Not that Dick was a normal human being in the first place.

It was these thoughts of the clown that were currently troubling Dick's mind.

For some strange, inconceivable reason... the clown didn't seem to be doing well this week.

It slept more than usual (and that was saying a lot) and ate less. Usually, the smell of new meat was enough to have Pennywise waiting at the dinner table before Dick even walked in through the door, but this past week, It took a full 5-10 minutes to even get up. And when It did, It sure looked like It didn't want to. What really threw Dick off was that the clown would only eat a quarter of its food! At first, Dick was grateful; perhaps the clown's appetite had had enough, and It would stop nagging him for seconds every single evening. However, a nibble a night? Now that was odd.

...But Dick wasn't stupid. He had an idea of what might be wrong, and it was this very idea that he decided to bring up to his co-worker on a chilly October day.

"You've got kids, right, Ant?" he asked offhandedly, taking a long drag on his cig.

Ant, his co-worker and a scraggly, graying man, drew patterns in the dirt with his shoe. "Yup."

"You married, too?"

"Uh-huh."

"Alright," Dick exhaled and then was silent, unsure of how to continue.

The man turned his black pinpricks for eyes onto Dick's face. "Why do ya ask?"

Dick shrugged. "Just wondering, I suppose. Say, your wife ever have... problems while she was pregnant?"

Now Ant was really looking at him. "Don't tell me we've been working together all this time, and I didn' even know you was married, Dick!" he laughed, breaking out into a strangled wheeze halfway through.

A kind of uncomfortable tension worked its way up Dick's neck, and he rubbed at it in an attempt to will away the sensation. "Never said I was married."

"She pregnant?"

She. Hah. Dick very nearly laughed aloud. Nevertheless, he shrugged his shoulders.

"How many months?"

Dick counted back. It was October now. Pennywise showed up in July. So September, August, July... 4 months? 3 and a half?

"3 and a half," Dick decided.

"Alright. That ain't too bad. Gets worse though."

"Never met a guy with such great advice," Dick mumbled sarcastically and flicked his cigarette to the ground, stamping it out with his foot with more than just a little bit of frustration. He wasn't friends with his co-workers, so he shouldn't expect them to help him out on this. But he really had no one to talk to. If he brought it up with Pennywise itself, the clown would probably get all pissed.

Ant displayed his palms in supplication. "Hey, man, I didn't mean anything by it. Only the truth. She throwing up?"

Dick paused. He... didn't think so. Then again, it's not like he slept in the same bed as Pennywise. He draws the line at that. "Don't think so," he replied, feeling oddly guilty.

"How do you not know?" Ant very nearly started to laugh again but reeled it in at the troubled look on Dick Hallorann's face. Now they weren't exactly pals, but Hallorann was a damn good cook. And Ant could respect that. So awkwardly, the older man gave Dick a pat on the shoulder. "Look, Hallorann, I'm not the one for this type of stuff. My wife don't even like me very much."

The joke did nothing to assuage Dick's mood.

Ant tried again, "So why not go to the library or somethin'? I'm sure those scholarly types over there have something on the matter."

Dick said nothing, so Ant simply decided to head back inside. Look, he liked women. Enough to marry one of 'em. But when it came to the world of the feminine, he was completely lost. Best to just let Mr. Dick Hallorann help himself. He barely remembered to put out his cigarette before heading back inside.

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After work, Dick paid a visit to the library.

And he felt like a fool.

The library in downtown London was gigantic, so he should've had no problem finding what he needed... but he found himself in the Women's Health section, with absolutely no sign of a brain cell and completely overwhelmed. First of all, Pennywise wasn't no woman. More than that, It wasn't even human. So what the hell was Dick doing? Would the advice in these books even work?

Well, the kid would be half-human.

So maybe.

Without thinking, Dick just grabbed the nearest textbook (fighting the urge to drop the thing, as if it had burned him) and made a beeline towards the nearest table.

The library was empty, save for an old woman on the upper level and a teenager a couple of tables down from Dick, scrubbing his paper wildly with an eraser. From the looks of things, Dick wouldn't be bothered. That was good. Because instead of a fool, now he just felt like a creep; the large, heavy textbook sat in his lap, a physician's rendition of a vagina staring innocently up at him from the navy blue cover.

Jesus.

Dick got to work.

He was going to be a father. That much was set in stone. His childhood was shit, but more than anything, he was raised to treat those around him with respect. He had gotten someone pregnant, and now it was his responsibility to take care of that certain someone.

No matter who it was.

Dick sighed and put his head into his hands.

None of this would have happened if he had just kept it in his damn pants. And by all means, that really shouldn't have been so hard. The clown was hideous, that much was certain. It had bad manners. Hell, It was a goddamn man-eater.

But that day, Dick had never been so horny in his life.

Grilling Pennywise about the situation the morning after, the clown claimed It had nothing to do with Dick's sudden climb in libido. And honestly, Dick believed It. What that said about him, he didn't want to know.

But sometimes, he would wake in the middle of a night, a tent straining at the crotch of his boxers, and Dick didn't even need to remember the contents of his dream to know what it was about. Those long, white legs, opening up for him as easily as reading a mind. The arch of the clown's back and the fluttering of those strange, fin-like protuberances from each node of Its spine. That awful paradise between Its thighs... a wet, pink cavern that only Dick had been allowed to enter.

He groaned, fighting the urge to slap himself across the face. That would surely draw some eyes. Who thinks about these things in the middle of a damn library?

Dick Hallorann, apparently.

The textbook wasn't exactly helping because he turned the page and wasn't surprised to find paragraph upon paragraph about sex.

He wondered briefly how his clown was doing.

The textbook read, Engaging in sexual intercourse triggers the release of oxytocin, a chemical nicknamed "the love drug" because of its reduction of stress and promotion of relaxation. Naturally, these effects work to soothe any pains of the mother and lower anxiety levels and may be beneficial to improving her quality of life while pregnant.

Dick blinked then rubbed his forehead nervously. That... could work.

Not like he wanted to fuck Pennywise the Dancing Clown again, but sex could help to reduce Its incessant whining. Maybe ease Its pain. The author of the textbook said it, not him.

He'll bring it up briefly and see if the clown is amenable.

Either Dick will end up getting laughed out of his own house, or he'll get laid...

And honestly, he doesn't know which is worse.

THE END. (For now.)

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