Notes: This is probably as close to a PSA-related prompt as I'll ever do.

Don't smoke, people. That day's come and gone, and you didn't miss out on much. Live healthy.


"Don't Ask, Don't Tell"

K


"Heh. Look like someone you know?"

Arms held at his sides, Pennywise frowned, one blue eye glancing back over toward the hallway where Beverly waited.

Sort of.

The 'short' answer was, yes. He had been a part of Derry's framework since before there was ever a colonial settlement here. In some way, everything that happened in this town was partially and very, very indirectly his doing.

But the uncanny fact that a decorative former-bowling pin in the corner of the Marshs' cramped 'living room' just happened to be dolled up like a clown?

It was pure coincidence.

As was his sudden, very-fleeting interest in the thing.

What would Richie say to that?

"Hah hah, Bevs." He poked at it with two fingertips, as a cat might prod a mouse's corpse with their paw.

It wobbled dangerously, but did not fall.

The redhead shrugged. "Yeah, it's an ugly thing. Matches the rest of the apartment, doesn't it?"

Pennywise looked back in time to see her disappear around the corner. "Bevs..."

The pin forgotten, he straightened up and followed.

He hoped that comment wasn't meant to be as self-depreciating as he thought it sounded.

She took a seat at her keyboard. "It was nice of you to visit on a rainy day, Pen. But you don't have to stay if you don't want to. We both know how easily bored you get."

Then he was there, leaning in way too obnoxiously close, their faces inches apart, nosing at her like an overanxious pet who hadn't seen their owner for days.

"No, wE don't."

She grinned, pushed his smiling face away. "Okay, I know, then."

In this instance, "rainy day" was a very literal description of the summertime weather outside, and not just Beverly's mood. Her window blinds were lowered and drawn, the lamps on at near-midday to compensate for a lack of sunlight. Shadows cast by thick rivulets of water rolled down the pane of glass, well fed as they were by the strength of the storm.

Glancing around, taking stock of his choices for potential mayhem, Pennywise found few viable possibilities. Instead, he primly spun around and sat down on the floor, elbows on his bent knees, with his back against the girl's bed.

Lousy weather. Small wonder why Beverly was feeling low.

She was stuck here.

"ShaMe you don'T have moRe room," he commented, trying to seem purely-offhanded about it. He glanced past her, at the keyboard, taking note of the white keys. "I'vE heard you prActicing. Not bAdly, either."

"You can't dance in here." Beverly was quick to recite the most-recently-instated rule number one, not falling for his butter-up act.

"Aww." Pennywise pressed his gloves to his ears, as if the memory were already paining him. He frowned, lip jutting out. "HonestLy? For the milLionth time, I'm soRry about the plaTe."

"And I heard you the first nine-hundred ninety-nine thousand nine hundred ninety nine times, thank you."

That had quickly become their most customary exchange, after the entity's first unexpected appearance at the apartment had ended in disaster. After so many offers to fix the damage he had done (only to have them rebuffed time and again), he had begrudgingly settled for offering repeated apologies.

As yet, she had declined to forgive him. And the keyboard had remained untouched ever since.

Who knew if that old Lenox plate had been worth anything, anyway?

Beverly turned sideways, away from her visitor, with her legs crossed, and let her arm hang over the back of the chair. She was smiling, but it was a tolerant smile. Not the genuinely-amused smile he had been aiming to bring out.

Curious.

Pennywise frowned, hands dropping into his lap. "Bevs, what is iT?"

She seemed tense. More than usual.

Glancing around, he took a quick sniff and already figured it out before she had inhaled to answer.

"You'Re out of cigareTtes?"

Beverly grimaced, plucking at the hem of her sleeve. It was the same tic as he had seen that day not long ago, on the rooftop. The slight flush in her round cheeks said her blood pressure was up. "For now. It's not the first time."

Pennywise raised a brow.

Beverly Marsh was a high school student with little to no income. From what he understood, she either stole or charmed her way into this habit that (by local legislation) she wasn't legally old enough to be partaking in.

But that was beside the point. Smokers weren't usually pleasant to be around when they were without their vice.

Bevs, unpleasant? Nooo.

Perish the thought.

Throw it down the Neibolt well, then climb down and stomp it into dust.

Sure, sometimes she had cause to hit him. A slap if she was serious. But it was usually with reason. She always had the best perspective in mind, for everyone, if not herself. She listened when most wouldn't. She comforted others when they were hurting, himself included. She did nothing those awful rumors claimed she said she did.

He may not have always regarded her as a "favorite of his favorites", but as the saying went, he was wrapped around her finger, simply out of principle. Maybe out of no small measure of envy, too.

If he had a tenth the composure she did...

All she would have to do was point to the nearest drugstore and say, "Fetch."

But then, there was his line in the sand. And he was stubborn about enforcing it. Smoking wasn't good for her, body or mind. She could get into real trouble if anyone caught her being a thief, or partaking in the habit. What harm could befall her that the entity may not be able to pull enough strings to undo?

"Don't."

Like coming up for air after a deep dive, Pennywise blinked back to awareness.

Beverly was standing now, scowling down at him. She stood less than a meter away. Her index finger was aimed dead-center between his eyes.

Odd. Usually he was the one invading his mortal friends' personal spaces.

"I know that look. Don't even think about it."

"About whAt?"

"The lecture. I can just see those rusty gears spooling up in your head."

So you can. Aaand?

The creature braced a gloved fist against his cheek and kept pondering - very, very obviously.

What to do, what to do...

He also knew Beverly lived under her father's thumb, in every way except the most literal. Whenever Alvin was around (which was, blessedly, not that often), she obeyed his every command.

"Don't, I said."

Did he not know? What would he have to say about this?

Could there be a way to -

"Pen. Stop it."

Then she took the musing clown by surprise. She had grabbed his face between her hands, palms flat against his temples.

Her clear blue eyes were sharp, fierce. She was also shaking.

He frowned. "Bevs, if you neEd them that bad- "

"I don't." She seethed through bared teeth, breathing tight. "What I need is for you to stop thinking about it, every time you look at me."

But I don't...

Wait.

Forget that half-hearted denial.

. . .

Are you sure your perceptiveness hasn't rubbed off on them? On her, most of all?

Pennywise almost winced.

That was the other thing - Beverly Marsh was far more candid with him than any of the other Losers. Often, he did not understand why. Just because he was actively practicing restraint did not mean he was any better at it now than when they had met, ten months prior. More and more, she seemed to confide in him apart from the rest of the gang.

Was it her way of testing him? Helping him learn?

Or did his very presence just have that effect on her?

Gift her with a heightened ability to sense what most would overlook?

...Maybe it was both.

Bingo!

He knew just what to do.

By some kind of miracle, as he thought of it, he kept his face straight.

"Don'T worRy, Bevs. That's... not what I'm thInking about."

Slowly...

The shaking eased. Her eyes wavered just a bit, searching his expression for any signs of jesting or insincerity.

"It's not?"

"No, not... entiRely."

That's it, lure her in...

"I know there's no talking yOu out of it." Considering her jeweled hands were still on his face, the clinking of her many bracelets just begging to be batted at, he held perfectly still. He wouldn't give into the foolish temptation.

Earnestness was an easy expression to mime, after enough practice.

And a mild influx of Deadlights as projected through hypnotic eyes couldn't hurt.

"But you should also kNow there's no taLking me into it."

Perfect.

There.

"Ever."

Their eyes stayed locked.

She didn't notice the index finger slooowly reaching up to tap her freckled nose until it caught her unawares. Even as she flinched and looked down, the oversized clown made a sudden, swooping grab across her back with one arm. Ignoring her startled cry, he pulled the girl against him, encasing her in a tight hug.

"NoPe, no talking anyBody into anyThing! Not todAy!"

"Pen! Stop it! Right now! Let go, you stupid, overgrown- Pen, what if Dad- "

After about thirty blustery seconds of struggle, Beverly gave up on the insults. She twisted and struggled halfheartedly, slipping against the satin folds of his suit. Trying to pry his arms off, she fought to wrench free, to escape this newest prison she found herself confined to.

The best she had yet known, really.

Gigging madly, Pennywise simply held on.

He couldn't remember the last time he had heard her laugh so much.

Of her own accord.

Eventually, she relented.

Lying sideways across his lap, she grew still, laughs tapering off, finally off her ever-constant guard, for once. Pushing the collar away from her face, she stifled the last few chuckles and breathed deep, lounging in his arms like a cat. She pushed her mussed bangs out of her eyes, smiling an insecure, almost-giddy smile.

"God, enough. Okay. Then... like Ben would say... we're at an impasse."

"You don't neEd 'em, Bevs," her captor stated simply. Then, not so simply, he added: "No more than you tHink you need me to tell you."

I worry. But I shouldn't.

You don't want anyone to worry because of you.

Doesn't mean I can't for you.

"But, I thought you didn't like- "

He reached over, cupping her chin in his gloved palm before it could stammer any more.

With the other hand, he ruffled her short auburn hair into even more of a tangled mess.

An affectionately-induced mess.

"I don't." He grinned broadly. "Doesn't mEan I don't liKe you any lesS."

Do what you will.

No one can tell you what to do, not even me.

He couldn't claim to have changed her mind on the matter right then and there.

But by the way Beverly suddenly smiled again, gripped his shoulder, sat up and nuzzled him, jarring and unpracticed though she was at it, Pennywise could tell he got somewhere with that performance.