Here's some Reddie fluff becuase IT: Chapter Two has me hella depressed and writing fluff is a coping mechanism for me. Enjoy and feel free to drop a review!

Eddie knew there was something wrong the moment he woke up. His head felt strangely heavy, as if it was leadened to his pillow. Eddie blinked slowly, the morning light flooding through his bedroom window obscured by the cloudy Maine morning. He crawled out of bed and promptly collapsed in a heap on the floor. Groaning, Eddie pulled himself up so that his back was leaning against the side of his bed. His head was spinning and his stomach lurched uncomfortably. He felt his forehead. It was uncommonly warm. Shit, he thought, I'm actually sick.

Eddie had come to terms with the fact that his mother had been lying to him about his weak health for years and he was perfectly healthy — besides his asthma — since discovering last summer that his "medications" were, in fact, just placebos. Eddie remembered the hurt and confusion he felt initially finding out the truth. He remembered it vividly. He still felt it. Mrs Kaspbrak had been blinded by her selfish love. And Eddie hated her. But she did love him, in a selfishly fucked up way. If she knew he was actually ill that morning she would freak out and insist he stay home from school. "Staying home" was the last thing Eddie wanted because that meant being stuck with her all day instead of hanging out with his friends and staying away as long as possible. No, Eddie decided, he would go to school. He would just hide that he was sick — from Mrs Kaspbrak and his friends.

This proved to be a helluva lot harder than he anticipated.

Getting out the door was not the hard part. Eddie took some extra time getting dressed and managed to force down a bowl of cereal. He kissed his mom quickly so she wouldn't detect his fever and was out the door before she could offer to drive him to school. Mrs Kaspbrak offered to drive him almost everyday in the fall and spring trimesters, and didn't give him an option in the winter. Derry , like the majority of the East Coast, had notoriously cold and wet seasons. It was only mid-October and Eddie was already shivering under his windbreaker. Or maybe that was because he had the chills. He wasn't quite sure which, but he was miserable just the same.

No, the hard part was surviving the school day. He parked his bike next to the other Losers', and hurried inside the building. Eddie was late to his first class and received a rapt scolding from the teacher, who preferred to humiliate his students in front of the entire class. Eddie was hardly ever late to class, especially not the first of the day, so he was properly embarrassed. Flushed by embarrassment and fever, he slumped into the empty seat next to his best friend Richie Tozier.

"Hey Eds,'' Richie whispered cheerfully.

"Don't call me that,'' Eddie automatically replied.

Richie gave him a lopsided grin and turned back to the teacher. Eddie noticed Richie's fingers drumming distractedly on his desk, hinting that his attention was not focused on the lecture. Eddie wondered briefly if Richie was thinking about him. He hoped he was.

"Kaspbrak!"

Eddie's head snapped up. He had zoned out for a minute. "Yes?"

"Pay attention!"

"Yes, sir,'' sighed Eddie. He drug his gaze away from Richie, who had finally noticed Eddie was staring at him and was smiling shyly. Eddie longed to keep watching him, to see his reaction further, but didn't want to get in any more trouble. He propped his aching head up on one elbow and tried his hardest to not fall asleep.

By the time lunch rolled around, Eddie wasn't sure he could keep up his facade much longer. The dull ache in his head worsened to a dull throb, making it hard to think. He was shivering again and his tummy hurt. He was dimly aware of Stan and Ben arguing about some stupid Geography question. He felt a hand on his shoulder. Beverly was looking concernedly at him, "Are you okay, Eddie?''

Eddie blinked, trying to clear his head for an answer. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.''

Bev looked doubtful. "You sure?''

"Yeah, man,'' Mike added, "you haven't said anything all day.''

Eddie was aware of six pairs of eyes staring expectantly at him. For a moment, he almost told them the truth. Then, "I didn't sleep well last night.''

"Me neither,'' piped Richie, mouth full. "I was too busy fu—"

"Shut up, Richie,'' chorused six voices.

Richie made a face and swallowed.

Eddie sat back, relieved the unwanted attention had been drawn away from him. He glanced gratefully at Richie, who had unknowingly rescued him from making up any more lies to cover his illness. Unknowingly or not, Eddie appreciated it.

By the end of the school day, Eddie was actually happy to be going home. The Losers didn't have anything planned after school that day and Mrs Kaspbrak wouldn't be home from work for a couple more hours. Eddie hoped he could just take some medicine or some shit and get to bed early without arousing much suspicion.

"Hiya Eddie.''

Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin as Richie popped out of seemingly nowhere from behind his locker. "God, Richie. You scared the living shit out of me, you know that?"

Richie smirked, not looking sorry at all. "Hey, I was thinking — if you weren't planning on doing anything, that is — that you could come hang out at my house?'' He paused, then added awkwardly and unnecessarily, "Like as bros.''

Eddie paused before shutting his locker door. His head really hurt and he felt like he was going to throw up. But he really did want to be with Richie.

"My parents won't be home until late tonight,'' Richie continued, his tone suddenly guarded. "So you don't have to worry about anything they'd . . . do.''

"No! No, no. That's, uh, that's not what I'm worried about,'' said Eddie quickly. Richie's parents were notorious alcoholics. Richie didn't talk about them much, which was an indication he was either too embarrassed or too ashamed — both of which were unusual emotions for Eddie.

Richie scrunched his nose in confusion. "Then what are you worried about?''

Eddie hesitated again.

"That fucking clown's never coming back, Eds.''

Eddie was too surprised to remember to be annoyed at the nickname. The events of the previous summer were not often discussed among the Losers. What was worse, they all knew Pennywise was coming back. They hadn't complete disposed of that fucker. But Ben's hours of research bore evidence that It wouldn't return for another twenty-seven years.

"U-u-um,'' Eddie stuttered like Bill. "That's not what I am worried about either.''

"Jesus, Eddie,'' but Richie looked relieved. "Either tell me what's wrong or come over to my fucking house.''

Eddie gave in. Glancing around to make sure no one else was listening, Eddie leaned close enough to Richie that he could feel his hot breath on his face. "There's a chance I might barf on your carpet.''

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?'' Richie demanded.

Eddie gave an exasperated sigh. "I'm sick.''

Richie blinked, his eyes comically large through his glasses.

"I'm fucking sick, Richie!'' Eddie snapped. "I have the flu or something.''

"Wait, like you're actually sick?''

Eddie turned away, feelings hurt. "Jesus God, Richie.''

Richie grabbed his wrist before he could walk away. "Wait!" Panic flashed through Richie's eyes. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to sound like a dick. I just . . .'' Eddie watched Richie carefully. The latter averted his eyes trying to convey his thought into words. Finally, he met Eddie's gaze. "Why didn't you tell us you're sick?''

"Because,'' Eddie sighed. "I don't want my mom to find out. You know how she is.''

"Well, you don't have to hide anything from us! We're the Losers' Club, remember? We've always got each others' backs.''

"Please don't tell the others, Richie!'' Eddie begged.

Richie viewed Eddie carefully. "We just want to help.''

"I know. And I really appreciate it, but, but, I don't want you guys to think I'm the weak and fragile one!'' Eddie burst out. He immediately regretted saying he. He again tried to walk away but was stopped. Richie still hadn't let go of his wrist.

"Listen,'' Richie's voice was more gentle than Eddie had ever heard it. "No one thinks you're weak or fragile. We all know that's some crazy bullshit your mom made up. But if it's really that important to you, I won't tell anyone. On one condition: You let me take care of you.''

"What?" The idea of Richie taking care of anybody was insane. He could barely take care of himself! But Eddie also kind of liked the idea. He felt terrible and they both knew he wouldn't be letting Mrs Kaspbrak know about his illness, let alone take care of him, so Eddie decided he would allow it.

"Come on.'' Richie let go of his wrist (much to Eddie's puzzled disappointment) and helped his friend gather up his books.

"What are you doing?'' Eddie asked.

"I'm taking you back to your fucking house.''

"Why?''

"Because, my dear Eds, I'm going to take care of you.'' Richie didn't let Eddie protest. Eddie didn't try very hard anyway.

By the time they were pulling their bikes out of the stands, Eddie was shivering again.

"Here,'' Richie pulled his hoodie off and offered it to Eddie.

"Won't you be cold?"

"Nah,'' shrugged Richie, although he had only a simple long-sleeved shirt on now.

Eddie accepted the hoodie meekly.

The ride home wasn't all that great. Eddie kept lagging behind and Richie would patiently stop and wait for him, calling encouraging things over his shoulder. By the time they pulled into the Kaspbraks' driveway, Eddie felt like crying from exhaustion and misery. Richie took his backpack and sifted through its contents until he found the house-key. He let himself in, dumping his and Eddie's backpacks unceremoniously on the floor. Then Richie went back to Eddie, gently taking his bike. "I'll put it away for you. Go inside and get warm.''

Eddie hurried inside his house, clinging to Richie's hoodie around him. He went straight to his room and collapsed on his bed. Least I made it home, he thought bitterly. He kicked off his shoes and jeans, wiggling under his blankets. Richie's bespectacled face appeared in his doorway. He bounded up on onto the foot of Eddie's bed, causing the mattress springs to groan. He crossed his legs and leaned forward. "Now what do I do?"

Eddie sighed and closed his eyes. He just wanted to sleep.

Richie looked around Eddie's room as if it was the first time he'd seen it. "You know, I imagined being in bed with you for the first time under different circumstances.''

Eddie's eyes popped open. He sat up so quickly his head spun. "You're not "in bed" with me, Richie, so shut the fuck up.''

"I've been in bed with your mom though!" said Richie brightly.

Eddie groaned and lay back down. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up.''

He saw Richie smile. It was a shy, almost giddy smile. Eddie felt like he was invading Richie's privacy by seeing it. Embarrassed for some reason, Eddie pretended like he hadn't seen anything.

"So,'' Richie leaned even closer, "are you still going to barf?"

The spell broke. Eddie thought for a moment. He still felt slightly nauseous, but no longer like he was going vomit. "I don't think so.''

"Good, very good, lad,'' said Richie with a sudden British accent. "What else am I to do for you?"

"You could probably go home,'' said Eddie reluctantly. He couldn't think of anything else. He was tired and ready to go back to bed.

Richie ignored him. "Right then, I'll go make you a cuppa tea or shit.''

"Don't burn down my house!'' Eddie called after him as he headed for the kitchen.

"I know what I'm fucking doing!'' Richie yelled back, dropping (or, more likely, forgetting) the accent. Eddie seriously doubted Richie had ever made tea in his life.

However, Richie returned five minutes later with a steaming cup of remedial tea. He set it carefully down on the bedside table. "I couldn't find the motherfucking thermanator.''

"Thermometer,'' Eddie corrected him. "It's on the top shelf of the medicine cabinet.''

"Which one? All your fucking cabinets are medicine cabinets."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Whatever. It's probably best you weren't messing with that shit anyway. My mom would get suspicious. Thanks for that, by the way,'' he nodded towards the tea.

"I left everything exactly how it was,'' Richie reported proudly.

Richie surprised Eddie on a daily basis. Usually it was with an innuendo so horrifically crude Eddie hadn't even thought it possible. Something that differed from the usual "I fucked your mom" gag they had going. But other times, such as today, Richie surprised Eddie with the kind of person he was underneath the sex jokes and bad fake accents. Richie was actually an incredibly caring, thoughtful, and sometimes irritatingly complicated person. Eddie realized that he liked that person. He liked him a lot. "Thanks, Richie,'' he said, genuinely.

Richie searched for a smartass reply a moment before saying simply, "You're welcome.''

Eddie held his gaze for a long while. Finally, he turned away. Richie blushed slightly, wiping the palms of his hands on his pants. "So, um, what should I do now?"

Eddie's head was hurting badly again and his eyelids were drooping. "Honestly, you've been a great help, Richie. But you really can go home now. I'm fucking exhausted.''

"Okay,'' Richie nodded. He sat back down on the end of Eddie's bed.

"What're you doing?"

"I'll stay with you until you fall asleep,'' said Richie. "You can drink your tea when you wake up.''

"Oh . . . Okay.'' Eddie settled down. He watched Richie for a minute, then sleep swallowed him.

Even after Richie was sure Eddie was asleep, he hung back. He didn't want to leave just yet. He was content watching Eddie's steady breathing, as it was rare. Richie's hand drifted to Eddie's foot, a small bump underneath his many blankets. Richie let his hand rest there for a long time. Eventually, realizing Mrs K would be home soon, he snatched his hand away and got quickly up. Richie paused in the doorway. He glanced back at Eddie's sleeping form. He hesitated. Then, hands shaking, Richie crept quietly up to the bedside. This time he didn't hesitate. Leaning forward, Richie softly kissed Eddie's flushed cheek. He let his lips linger before slowly pulling back. "Keep the hoodie,'' he whispered.

It started to rain as Richie biked home. It was an icy downpour; it didn't take long for Richie to become thoroughly soaked. Water streaked his glasses. Thunder rumbled above. But Richie hardly noticed. A smile hung on his tingling lips. A memory was being relived, preserved forever. Because when Richie was with Eddie, he didn't need his hoodie to keep him warm.