One-Time Disclaimer: IT © Stephen King.

Notes (Updated August 2018): What began as a random collection of oneshots featuring a good/neutral!Pennywise has since evolved into a very non-chronological story. Enjoy for what it is. I have. :'3

Special thanks to SkyHighDisco-new and Alice of the Ashes for being such great betas! Check out their work for more IT AU concepts.

"Friendly Fire"

T (for language)

Beverly Marsh didn't need cosmic-grade powers of perception to see the impatience was rising in Richie's mind, as unstoppable as a returning high tide. She noticed, but that only served to help her hands move faster. Stripping away the protective packaging and applying the perfunctory anti-bacterial ointment, in what-was-becoming-practiced ease, she wrapped the Band Aid sideways around her friend's hand.

Three... two... one.

The tide peaked.

"Ouch! Careful!"

The downside to working fast was, perhaps, she wasn't as gentle as she could have been.

Then again, Richie's fidgeting didn't help.

Unceremoniously, she dropped his hand. "One more of these, and I'm taking the scissors away from you."

Her comment was met with quiet snickering, as the other Losers overheard, but none of them hazarded a quip.

While the sound rubbed him the wrong way just a bit, Richie pretended to glower as if it were the greatest insult, cradling his left hand as if the minor gash across the palm - now safely bandaged - were a sprain. "Yes, Nurse Marsh."

"How many is that now, anyway?" Because he knew Richie could endure no more than sixty seconds of silence at a time, maximum, Stan was quick to offer a prompting question, for it was better for someone to answer it than hear Richie complain anew. Frustration was already running high for him today.

Arts and crafts, on a sunny Saturday, at the quarry? It was literally fifty feet that way, at the forest's edge. The air temperature was somewhere just shy of roasting, even in the shade. Wasn't the thought of swimming more appealing?

It was summer for fuck's sake.

Fuming, Richie glanced up, past the rims of his glasses. Typical. Even as he spoke, Stan's attention never lifted from meticulously applying the latest strip of tape to his paper contraption.

Tozier leaned against the tree trunk behind him and slumped back down into a sitting position, retaking his spot among the circle the gathered Losers had formed. His pitiful attempt at a project was utterly ignored, so he watched the others work. Scattered in the patchy swath of grass between them lay a veritable shallow sea of empty tape rolls, crayons and colored pencils, and multi-colored scraps of construction paper.

A set of hardcover books, opened to various step-by-step folding diagrams, sat by Bill's and Ben's feet respectively. Beyond their circle, the group's bikes formed a protective barricade against the forest and any would-be ambushes an unexpected 'attacker' might attempt from that direction.

Up until that moment, though, the only one proving remotely dangerous to their afternoon activities was Richie.

At least in terms of killing the mood.

Considering this, Bill tried to make light of his answer, with a half-smile for good measure. A little ribbing wasn't uncalled for. "Six... I t-think?"

Beverly closed the plastic First Aid kit with a snap, buckling its latch in a motion that seemed somehow-dignified. Too dignified for her to offer any confirmation to Bill's estimate.

Eddie, sitting cross-legged across from Richie, harbored no such reservations. He brushed pine needles from his knee-high socks. "At least. The first was the best."

"Best?" Richie repeated. "Never would'a thought you'd be happy at the sight of me bleeding, Eds."

"Were you so upset that we weren't in for swimming today you just decided to end things with a slash on the wrist, play it off like an accident?"

Richie scoffed, holding out both hands for any interested party's scrutiny. The first nick wasn't quite a slash as Kaspbrak described, but it was an impressive line of red, bound with three pieces of suture tape.

As no one else bothered, Ben leaned over for a closer look at the mounting damage. "Your Mom's gonna have a canary when she sees that."

"Don't worry. I have a story in mind already - I lost a fight with a badger."

"There were five of 'em. I was fightin' them off," Kaspbrak intoned, with dramatic hand gestures to match.

"Really?" Mike paused mid-snip, trimming one side of the tailplane of his paper plane to a more aggressive angle. "You'd sooner admit you lost a fight with some wild animal than tell the truth of this?"

"He just doesn't wanna admIt it's only safe to leave him with the kidDie scissors."

The solemn, yet wisecracking comment, so out-of-nowhere in its delivery, drew immediate laughter, noticeably louder than before. Cackling madly, Eddie fell sideways in the grass, overtaken by mirth. Ben chuckled behind one hand. Even Beverly cracked a smile.

Richie, nowhere near as amused, grabbed the nearest piece of ammo on hand, and fired at the offender.

"No one asked you, Stripes!"

Unfortunately, in his haste, he failed to aim the acorn.

And even more unfortunately for him, it somehow missed the bigger target and struck the smaller one seated at the clown's side.

Rather than build paper planes, Georgie Denbrough had opted instead to practice his nautical knots, courtesy of the Sea Scout manual Ben had found for him. Lacking any string, he was making do with the undone laces from one of Pennywise's outstretched boots.

Engrossed in his task, the little boy did not notice the sailing acorn until it nailed him in the temple with a stinging smack.

"Ah-Ow!"

As quickly as it began, the laughter died off, as Georgie clutched his face and burst into fervent tears. Ben's mouth fell open in mute shock. Mike dropped his scissors, disbelieving outrage writ large on his face, mirroring Bill's. "Richie?!"

Then the uproar ensued.

In the millisecond it took for him to realize the damage he had done and register Georgie's cry, the once-livid instigator found himself tackled by a virtual blur of silver and red. Laid flat on his back, gloved hands pinning his shoulders down, the wind momentarily gone from his lungs, Richie gaped and blinked stupidly at the painted visage growling at him.

Pennywise's face was half-warped, jaw distended in a wide, beastly snarl, dripping fangs poised mere centimeters from the boy's nose.

Somewhere in the background, Richie heard the others rallying to his defense. Their panicked pleas mingled and ran together, leaving no room to guess who said what:

"Pen, no! It's okay!"

"No biting! No!"

Hasty footsteps scrambled their way, twigs snapping underfoot. In the span of a few tense seconds, five sets of hands tried to pry them apart.

"He wasn't aiming at Georgie!"

"Stop, wait!"

Gradually seeming to return to his senses, Pennywise stopped growling, teeth retracting. Very seldom did anything get between him and a target, and the novelty alone was enough to give him pause. One yellow eye, followed by the other, glanced sideways at the person that had boldly grabbed his left forearm.

Bill was frowning, eyes sparkling with anger, but he did not shy away from the monster's gaze. He leaned close and uttered only a single command: "Don't."

The eldritch creature stared down at him, mute, for the longest time, not unlike an unruly lion whose tamer had just cracked the whip. No doubt he was weighing his options: to listen to Bill, or to lash out at him instead. The latter was just as likely as the former.

With a sighing hiss, he finally drew back, letting the Losers drag Richie away to a safe distance. Then, throwing a worried look over his shoulder, he loped back across the clearing on all fours, bells ringing.

Richie's mouth worked twice before he found his voice again, meek and trembling, but there. He could feel his hands twitching uncontrollably, even as the shock melted away. "Yeah, that... that kinda happened."

Eddie and Stanley helped him to sit up. In just as short a second, Eddie's expression went from concerned to critical. Without a missing beat, he smacked Richie upside the back of the head.

"You idiot, he could've killed you just now."

"He didn't think," Stan defended. "Like so many other times I wish he had."

Which 'he' was being referred to was anyone's guess.

"How could I miss...?" Richie murmured, rubbing distractedly at his disheveled hair, still trying to focus. His fast-forwarding emotions had already gone from fearing for his life to being almost amazed. Amazed that he wasn't lying there, a freshly-slain cadaver. "It's like trying to miss a billboard with a shotgun."

Without warning his world exploded in pain again, glasses almost jolting off his face. "Ow!" He grabbed for the back of his skull, shoulders hunched with arms folded protectively over his head. "Eds, enough. I know, I screwed up. You don't gotta beat it into me."

"Just making sure," Eddie deadpanned.

In the awkward near-quiet that followed, Bill sat and waited, steady as a rock in a stream, elbows on his knees. His face was unchanged.

Slowly, Richie lowered his arms and straightened his glasses.

"Sorry, Bill."

Pennywise, meanwhile, was having his own difficulties.

"Bevs, please..."

"No. Stay back." Ten feet away, the redhead stood her ground, sheltering a still-sniffling Georgie behind her jeans. She sidestepped to keep herself between the two as Pennywise tried to weave around her, unsuccessfully. As he ducked in the opposite direction, she steered him aside, as one might an over-inquisitive dog. "No. Not until you say you're sorry."

"SoRry?" He sat back on his heels, face screwed up in abject confusion. "Why? Richie threw it!"

"Only 'cause you don't know when to keep quiet."

Eddie facepalmed. "You ever notice how the same can be said of you, Rich?"

Pennywise bristled again, yanking his arm away from Beverly. He stalked back across the clearing, low to the ground, like a cougar about to pounce again. The edges of his irises were still yellow. "So yOU hurt GeorgIe instEad?"

Stan took half a step back, reaching impulsively for the trunk of the nearest tree, as if meaning to hide behind it.

"Pen, it was an accident," Eddie repeated, trying in vain to highlight the most important fact about this fracas.

Richie threw up his hands, not letting the argument lie. "I wouldn't have come close if you two weren't joined at the goddamn hip everywhere you went. Which seems to be a lot more often than not lately. Anyone else notice that besides me?"

"StiLL, he DIdn'T deserve tHat."

"We already told you, it wasn't on purpose, Doughboy! What, only you are allowed an infinite number of screw ups? I ran out of fingers and toes a long time ago keeping track."

"Shut up, Richie!" Eddie snapped before he could help himself.

Pennywise's eyes flared to a rarely-seen molten orange. "Why, yOu LItTLe- "

"Stop that, both of you, right now!"

Bill's voice finally rose. He stood and marched past the clown, over to his brother's side, draping a protective arm around Georgie's shoulders. The younger Denbrough's arms immediately laced themselves around him. Shiny tear trails marred Georgie's cheeks, and staring up at Bill, his wide, soft eyes were threatening to spill over with more waterworks.

For once, Richie heeded a command to remain silent, and averted his gaze, visibly abashed. Still crouching, Pennywise went as still and mute as a statue, for reasons only his multifaceted conscience could fathom. The forest around seemed just as deathly quiet, as if dreading the next outburst. Seeing what their vicious bickering had resulted in effectively shushed the two of them.

Reticent in the face of such social turmoil, Ben wordlessly stepped up and offered a handkerchief to Georgie, who silently wiped at his still-running nose.

"There's more than enough blame to go around here," Mike concluded, hands on his hips.

Beverly paced, taking in the breadth of the scene before her. Her scowl remained the same, but she seconded Mike's words in a tone that was almost forgiving. "You should both apologize. You, for hurting him. And you, for scaring him."

As unsure looks turned his way, one after another, Bill was decided by a final watery frown from Georgie. He nodded, rendering the verdict. "It's only fair."

Pennywise and Richie exchanged a mutual look of miserable irony before hanging their heads simultaneously. "Sorry, Georgie."

To his credit, Georgie put on his bravest smile, as good as any proverbial olive branch. He wiped the last of his tears away, twisting the plaid cloth nervously in his hands.

"T-that's okay. C-can we fly the planes now?"

They did, but there was little cheer in the sendoff.

Later that night, Richie would muse to himself, drifting off to sleep, staring at his bandaged hands, that at least he had earned his injuries over some kind of fight, even if it wasn't with the animal he claimed it to be.

Around the same time, the creature, lingering unseen in the sewers outside the Denbrough home, considered what remainder of the year he had left, and pondered the newfound wisdom of him keeping some kind of safer distance from the Losers in the interim, indulging in only as much close company as he could trust himself with.

Running with scissors was dangerous, after all.