contrition || reddie

4

"So, what do you guys do for fun?"

The group shrugs and mutters vaguely at Richie's question. They're all seated in the lounge, which is mostly empty at this time of day. Eddie has chosen the chair closes to Richie's.

"Do you guys just... not have fun?" Richie ventures.

"We have fun. It's just, I don't know. We just talk to each other. Play games, watch movies, train our powers, sit in the courtyard, read..." Stan lists, and Richie groans.

"Boring," He complains. Richie has been suffering without his phone, which has been taken from him. His hyperactive brain can't handle this much time doing nothing.

"Well, what would you suggest?" Eddie quirks an eyebrow, almost indignantly.

"Fucking your mom," Richie replies easily, and Eddie rolls his eyes.

"Sonia would never," Mike shakes his head.

"Well, we'll just see what happens, won't we, Eds?" Richie grins. Eddie huffs dramatically.

"My name is Eddie," He says, and Richie shrugs.

"Eds is a nickname."
"Eddie is already a nickname. I don't need a nickname for my nickname."
"Fine, Edward."
"Oh, God, that's even worse."
"Picky, aren't we, Mr. K.?"
"Just call me Eddie, it's not that difficult."
"How about Eddie Spaghetti?"

"Oh, that's a good one," Ben nods. Eddie turns fiery eyes to him.

"Don't encourage him," Eddie says, glaring at Richie as the latter stifles his laughter.

"Boys, am I right?" Beverly looks at Stan, who nods wisely.

"You know, Eds, I've been thinking; I talk about fucking your mom all the time, but I always leave your dad out! We've got to get him in the mix. A foursome!" Richie exclaims, watching with delight as Eddie's face twists in disgust. "Hear me out- you, me, your mom, and your d-"

Richie ignores the way his friends' eyes had all slowly risen up as he spoke, the way their expressions had shifted. He ignores the way Eddie had sunk down in his seat, burying his red face in his hands. Richie finally shuts up when he feels a hand on his shoulder, looking up to identify the owner.

"Hey, dad," Eddie says from behind his hands, voice muffled.

"Hi, Eddie," The man standing above Richie replies, and now Richie is burying his face in his hands, feeling himself flush. How long has he been standing there? "Richie, I don't believe we've met. I'm Frank Kaspbrak. Can I have a chat with you?"

Richie swallows, taking his face out of his hands. Oh, shit. How has he already gotten himself into trouble? Chats always mean punishment. About half as threatening as talks. Richie stands, waving nervously to his friends as he's led away, who all look like they're about to burst from their pent up laughter, frames trembling with the pressure.

Frank takes him through the main hub into an unfamiliar hallway, into a very frightening room. The source of the fear is a table of adults, which Frank joins. Richie sits down in front of the table, watching the panel in front of him with suspicion, feeling very small and very scrutinized.

"You aren't in trouble, Richie," Frank smiles kindly, and Richie breathes a sigh of relief. "I apologize, I should have clarified that earlier. This is just standard procedure for new recruits."

"Cool," Richie replies. He cringes internally.

"You've been speaking to Eddie, correct?" The adults look over as a large woman with carefully curled hair speaks, leaning forward a bit. "He isn't getting himself into trouble, is he? He's behaving?"