#bbb fic

ok so in the fic that lives in my head and will prob never get fully written, Eddie is trans (naturally) and got accidentally (and frankly, miraculously) knocked up by Buck during an ill-advised thank-fuck-yr-not-dead hookup after the highway collapse (tho the timing isn’t super important it’s just a marker of how fucking long I’ve been working on this nonexistent story skfjdk) blah blah angst and panic and whatnot transpires but in any case Eddie is keeping it, and the two of them finally manage to communicate enough that they’re together now, at the very least.

so Eddie is pregnant and he’s far enough along that he’s feeling conspicuous when he goes out in public; whether or not he would pass easily as a dude with just a bit of a beer gut is irrelevant honestly, dysphoria doesn’t give a shit about rationality. they’re supposed to be going to some event, like maybe a backyard bbq but with some people he hasn’t seen in a while, or maybe a larger first responders event and he knows he’s gonna see a ton of ppl from dispatch there, idk. But he’s feeling self conscious about it.

enter Buck who says to himself I Have The Answer To This Problem, and walks into the room wearing dangly (but tasteful) earrings, a tight polo shirt tucked into a loose and kinda flowy floral skirt that hits above his knee, along with tall socks and his sneakers. It’s a weird combination of things he normally wears (Eddie’s pretty sure those are just some of his fancier compression socks) with things he’s never seen in Buck’s closet before, and it’s a bit jarring at first but he’s making it work and honestly…his legs. Damn.

Buck has decided now’s as good a time as any to play with gender presentation, and he likes looking pretty sometimes. Like he’s long since put thought into it and he’s firmly a cis man, but like, firmly enough that he enjoys wearing things that make him look pretty sometimes, regardless of what gender they’re “supposed” to be for. Yaknow, just things that a lonely adhd dude figures out about himself when he learns his new best friend is trans and falls down twenty internet rabbit holes about it in quick succession. The same way that the same dude figures out how to obtain and build an accessible skateboard for an 8 year old with CP over a weekend. Just normal best friend things.

Once Eddie realizes Buck is serious about his sartorial choices, he rolls with it. Buck is pretty striking in that outfit, and yeah, no one is gonna be looking at Eddie when they walk in together.

 INT. One William Denbrough, eroding into the earth every time Richie leans close enough for Bill to feel the ghost of his breath on his skin, and touches him softly, a thumb brushing his left brow and allowing Bill’s mind to entertain thoughts and ideas he would otherwise deem impossible.

“It’s just so insane,” Richie says, face close to yours while his other hand holds your hair up from your forehead, and examines the silver thread of a scare over your temple. His glasses are pushed down the bridge of his nose so that you can see the dark chocolate of his eyes clearly, unobscured by the lenses.

You count one, two, three freckles in the corner of his right eye and whisper, “Yeah,” the very effort taking all the air from your lungs. Richie does not blink.

“Seven hours,” he continues, “You didn’t wake up for seven hours?”  

You nod. Your cheek brushes the skin of Richie’s palm, and you fight not to lean into the warmth. “D-dad s-s-says they almost lost me a few tuh-times during, but mom says he’s making that up. I just think sh-she doesn’t like to think about it.”

“And they think that’s what caused the stutter?” Richie says, “You getting hit by that car?”

You shrug. The word No lingers at the forefront of your mind and tickles the back of your tongue, but instead you bite it away and say, “Yes. I got h-hit and thrown against a wall. Knocked out. It de-did something to my head.”

Richie leans away. Cool air kisses your cheeks in his absence.

“Why haven’t you ever told me this before?”

You shrug, a stab of shame poking you in the stomach. “I don’t know. It’s weird, I guh-guess.”

Richie frowns. “It’s not weird,” he says.

“And I didn’t w-want you to look at me different.”

“It’s not weird, Bill.”

“It is weird, R-Richie. I died for a few minutes. It’s weird. I’m weird.”

“Not to me.”

You close your eyes, whispering, “Seriously …”

You can still hear the smile in Richie’s voice when he says, “I think it’s amazing, actually. You had a near death experience. You’re like a fuckin’ superhero, Denbrough.”

You open your eyes. Richie is close to you. He had been close before but now he’s closer still, the shadows from the flickering embers kissing the curve of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and the cleft of his chin. It’s close to ten and Richie’s parents will be expecting him home soon. It’s close to ten and your parents won’t be home for the weekend.

It’s close to ten and your best friend is looking at you in a way that best friends should not.  

INT. A boy blue, first name Bill.

Richie’s eyes are velvet under the orange haze of the wood burning in the fireplace. His lips have fallen open a sliver, as if awed, and he is whispering, “Hey, Billy,” and you think this may be what does it, the last straw. “Billy, Billy, Bill …”

He is still whispering your name against his lips when you kiss him.

 _

 You often wonder about what your life would look like in film.

If it would be in technicolour of black and white; sepia, or muted tones? How the script writer would depict the people in your life as if they were only characters on a page waiting to be brough to life with gestures and actions and phrases, and how they would write you.

The opening scene would be dreary, perhaps, a slice of life cut out of a jig-saw puzzle and the audience is introduced to you through the north facing window of your childhood bedroom. The mid-afternoon sun would be peaking in through streams of golden rays, and the camera would pan over the sun-bleached timber window pane. It would catch on silver dust particles, glittering with a soft chime, and the camera would continue over the floorboards, panning over school books, your backpack, rain boots, and the discarded shoes belonging to you and your friend.

And you, instantly knowable, your secrets held close laid bare on your skin, stained in ink.  

Like this:

 1. EXT. We open on a bird’s eye view of a backyard in the suburbs. Two things are immediately distinguishable: one, the grass has not been cut in many weeks, possibly all of summer; two, this is a not a yard in which spare time is enjoyed in, however it once may have been – rusted swing set and a child’s tricycle.

2. INT. Camera pans left through a window into a teenager’s bedroom. A boy’s bedroom. Clothes and shoes lie carelessly forgotten on the floor, school books unthought of. The view becomes hazy with smoke when, finally, two boys come into view (16). Immediately two things are distinct: one, the boys are opposites in appearance, where one is tall and lanky the other is lean and average height, one dark haired, dark eyed, and the other light haired and light eyed; two; the boys are best friends.

(The boys are smoking. It is their first time doing so.)

                                      RICHIE – dark hair, glasses

                            If you had to choose – one or the other what would you pick. Not having to eat but you’re always sleepy, or you never need to sleep but you’re hungry, like, all the time

[RICHIE takes a hit of the blunt, passes it to BILL]

                                      BILL –blue shirt, a present stutter  

                            That depends. Do I get to go take a nap, or is it, like, uh? Like narcolepsy?

                                      RICHIE

                             Man, how is that even a question? The fuck, why would you choose to be hungry all the time?

                                      BILL

                             [LAUGHING] That’s – okay, listen. Falling asleep all the time would be a nightmare!

[BILL passes the blunt back to RICHIE]

                             At least you could keep snacks on you all the time. Carry them around in a backpack. What would you do if you’re constantly falling asleep? Carry a pillow?

                                     RICHIE

                             Wear a padded jacket?

                                     BILL

                             Bubble wrap.

[Both laughing]

BILL’S POV.  Bill’s eyes are stinging. Check wracking with giggles he rubs them with his fists, blinking away stars afterwards. Beside him, Richie lies flat on his back and stares up at the ceiling. Bill cannot see his eyes behind the thick black frame of his glasses but imagines them wide and blown, flickering around like he can see the same stars Bill does. His hand lies palm up on the floor between their bodies. Bill – high, dizzy, ditzy, stares at him for too long.

A feeling settles in Bill’s chest. He recognises it instantly.

He pretends he does not.

                                    RICHIE

                            [Blowing smoke to the ceiling] So, what’s the verdict, Billy?

                                    BILL

                            [Flicking RICHIE on his hip] I’ll go with hunger pains.

                                    RICHIE

                            [Laughing, shaking his head] Fine. I guess I choose Necrolepsy.

                                      BILL

                            Narcolepsy.

                             [RICHIE waves a hand in the air. He becomes distracted with his own fingers, and watches the sun beams stream through the small gaps.]

[BILL watches him, quietly]

                                     BILL

                             I’ll carry around a pillow for you.

                                    RICHIE

                            [Smiling] Thanks, Billy. I’ll keep some animal crackers for you in my pockets for when you get hungry.

BILL’S POV. His nose wrinkles. He likes it a lot when Richie calls him Billy.

FADE OUT.

             ~

This is my art for the BBB fic  THE WORLD IS NO LONGER MYSTERIOUS  by the lovely Jas (aka smooshysushi/darrencokefer!) You can also read it on LJ and AO3. 

IT'S A SUPERNATURAL/GLEE CROSSOVER AND YOU SHOULD READ IT!