Okay, so - it's been over a decade since I've looked at this thing, and wow. 10/10 do not recommend rereading your own old fics you didn't think were half bad. I was (probably still am) such a dorky, cringe writer.

Anyway, I got inspired and revised this entire thing to fix grammar issues, plot holes, and to make it sound less dorky/cringy. It's still trash, but it's polished trash! I've also added an ending. Better late than never? (Although I don't think anyone even reads this fandom anymore.)

There may still be grammar/plot/other issues, but I can't reread this thing again.

Rated for language and mild sexual stuff. Also, there are a few uses of the word 'homo' in here, and maybe more, but they didn't really use 'gay' to mean gay in the sixties, so.

"Gordon, Christopher is on the telephone."

Gordie Lachance expertly bolted down the stairs, taking two at a time and only nearly smashing his face once, to grab the phone away from his mother. She, in turn, shot him a disapproving glare, and walked off mumbling something about 'rudest things ever, teenagers'. The way she had spat out the name Christopher told him she was more disgusted with the caller than the way he stampeded downstairs, but Gordie shrugged it off and slapped the phone to his ear.

"Chris?"

"Hey Gordie," the ever-so familiar voice cracked out of the phone. Realistically, Gordie would know that voice anywhere, considering he and Chris had been best friends for so damn long, since… god, when did they even meet? To Gordie, it wasn't really a particularly memorable day, or even a general year. It seemed more like he'd known that Chambers kid since before he was born.

"Hey, what's going on?" Gordie forced himself to play it cool, once the excitement of receiving a phone call had died off.

"Nothin' much. Me and the guys were gonna head to that field next to the old pond, maybe have a good snowball fight. You in?"

Hell yeah he was in; it was mid-December and they had just gotten a crisp four-and-a-half inches of snow the previous night. Besides, he had woken up early and gotten all of his Saturday morning chores done already.

"Yeah. Meet you guys there in half an hour?" Gordie asked.

"Sure. Vern said we could go back to his place for hot cocoa later, too."

"Alright. Bye."

He hung up the phone and just stood there for a few minutes, embracing the beauty of still having good friends to meet up with so frequently. He, Chris, Vern, and Teddy had somehow managed to remain close the past few years, even though high school made it difficult. Vern and Teddy were in the shop classes, and Gordie hadn't really seen either around school, but they still did things every few weekends together.

Chris, of course, was another story. Gordie saw him every damn day, since he was with him in the college courses. And they were together after school a lot, too, mostly so Gordie could help Chris pass said courses.

When the four of them got together, though… it was nice. Almost like a throwback from when they were just kids and life wasn't quite as stressful.

Breaking out of his daze, Gordie ran back upstairs (nearly slipping again), and began to dig through his closet for warmer clothes. After rummaging between there and the hamper for a good ten minutes (and managing to make a pigsty out of his room), he finally found some thicker pants, a flannel shirt, and his winter coat. Bundled up, he stomped down the stairs, barely calling out a goodbye to his mother before he slammed the door behind him.

By the time Gordie arrived at the snow-blanketed field, Chris was already making a snow fort, Teddy had stacked about a dozen snowballs in a neat pile, and Vern had apparently fallen a few times, judging by the layer of snow plastered to his clothes and hair. Smirking to himself, Gordie headed over, taking extra care not to slip and fall and look like a total idiot.

"Hey Gordo… was wondering when you were gonna show up," Teddy remarked, hurling a snowball at him as soon as he was in range. Gordie ducked it, but just barely.

"Jesus, Teddy, lemme get over here first, wouldja?"

"Yeah, yeah…"

Chris and Vern stumbled over, both already flushed from the cold.

"Okay, so who's on whose team?" Vern asked, nonchalantly edging towards Teddy. Though the Duchamp kid may have been completely off his rocker, he was a mean snowball fighter. When Teddy played, it wasn't just a Saturday afternoon game between four friends. It was a full-out war.

Chris grinned. "Teams? Naw, it's every man for himself."

"More like every man and Vern the pussy for himself," Teddy added, receiving only a pouting face from Vern.

"But… what if… why can't we…" Vern tried to put together a good excuse, but came up empty. He was usually the only one to demand teams, and unfortunately for him, they rarely obliged. "Fuck. Fine…"

So the four teenagers chucked snowballs at each other for nearly two hours. Some snowballs were put together so poorly that they crumbled before impact (usually these were from Vern), while others had the occasional chunk of ice hidden inside (Teddy was responsible for these). By five PM, all four were red-faced, laughing, and shivering terribly. Vern had a few light bruises from the ice-filled snowballs, all generally around his head area.

"Jesus, its cold. Can we head back to your house, Vern?" Chris asked, rubbing his bare hands together in a feeble attempt to build up heat. Teddy and Gordie nodded in agreement, both with blue lips and numb fingers.

"Yeah, and my mom said she'd maybe make some gingerbread, too! Sincerely!" Vern managed, teeth chattering and getting excited by his own words. Sold on the promise, they raced to his house, slipping in the snow along the way. By the time they got there, Teddy was in the lead, Chris and Gordie pulled close seconds, and Vern trailed behind by a good ten feet.

"Christ, Verno, your mom makes some good gingerbread," Teddy said, mouth full of cookie. Chris managed a low 'mmm' in agreement, but Gordie just gave a slow head nod. All four boys were sprawled out in Vern's living room, enjoying the fireplace and the ridiculously amazing gingerbread.

"God damn. I had no idea cookies could taste so good," Chris finally said, leaning back against the couch. Vern's mother, a short, portly woman, entered with a tray of four steaming mugs of cocoa.

"Here you are, boys. How's the gingerbread?"

"Amazing, Mrs. Tessio. Better than my mom makes it," Teddy stated. Mrs. Tessio beamed down at him, then turned and walked away. Gordie watched her go, finding it amazing how Vern's parents didn't judge his friends like his own dad did. In reality, neither Teddy nor Chris were bad kids. Yeah, Teddy was crazy, and Chris would have to work extra hard to not be like his old man, but even so, they were good at heart. Mrs. Tessio seemed to notice that, or maybe she had that same oblivious air to her that Vern did. Or maybe she was just happy that Vern didn't hang out with the same kind of people his brother Billy chose. Either way, it was nice.

"Well, gotta get home before my mom sends the entire police force on a search party for me," Teddy said, slowly getting up and brushing crumbs off his hands. "Then again, hiding from the police would be awesome…" His thoughts drifted off as his mind went crazy with the idea. Chris laughed and smacked at the other teen's calf.

"Go home, Teddy," he chided, and Teddy smirked and turned to walk off, snatching the last bit of gingerbread off the tray on his way out. Gordie stood up to stretch.

"We should probably head home too… we got church in the morning." He gave Chris a hand up, thanked Mrs. Tessio loudly, and shuffled out the door into the cold with Chris trotting behind him.

It was, of course, still cold out, but the walk back towards Gordie's house was short enough. After a few moments of silence, Gordie cleared his throat. "So… are you coming over tonight?" he asked, remembering vaguely that Chris had mentioned something earlier about his father being on yet another mean streak.

(Not that he'd say anything unprompted, but Gordie had noticed that there had been a lot more mean streaks lately, and Chris seemed less and less comfortable talking about it each time.)

"Yeah, as long as your old man's okay with it…"

"No clue, but who cares. He probably won't even come upstairs anyway," Gordie said casually, and Chris cracked a knowing smile. The Lachance parents had not gotten much more attentive over the years, and it sometimes worked in their favor.

Gordie glanced over, and then found himself looking at Chris's smirk for maybe a second or two too long. That's kind of his unhappy smirk, he thought. Maybe it's because of my parents? Or his? Gordie realized he was still eyeing Chris's mouth, even as they continued to walk, and looked away quickly. Must be the damn cold gettin' to my head. Feels like below zero. Maybe I have frostbite of the brain or something… He stuffed his hands in his pockets quickly and kept walking, head down.