Chapter Text
Richie shut off the engine and pulled the key from the ignition, he stepped out, circling around the car to open the door for Will. “C’mon, princess,” Richie said with an exaggerated bow as he held the door open, watching Will climb out.
“You’re insufferable, honestly,” Will replied, teasing the other boy despite the blush painted onto his cheeks. To keep Richie from noticing, he took a few quick steps ahead of him, making his way toward the store entrance, pretending to be far more interested in getting inside than in the grin he could practically feel aimed at his back.
Richie quickly caught up to the shorter boy, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. It felt almost casual, the way Richie threw his arm over Will like it was supposed to be that way, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Richie always seemed so calm—almost nonchalant about it—but it made Will’s heart skip a beat. Every subtle brush of their arms, every time Richie pulled him closer, it affected Will more than he wanted to admit, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Richie felt it too, if any of this meant as much to him.
“Richie?” Will said, almost too quiet to hear, the word barely leaving his lips.
“Yeah, baby?” Richie asked, pulling Will in a little closer, closing the space between them as they walked through the grocery store, his voice easy and familiar.
“What should we bring?” Will asked, shooting a glance up at Richie, deciding to push his other thoughts down for now, even if they lingered stubbornly in the back of his mind.
“Uhm, beer?? That was a stupid question, Byers.”
Will scrunched his nose. “Neither of us have an ID.”
Richie laughed, squeezing Will’s shoulder, his thumb tapping lightly like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it. “Relax, trashmouth charm gets you farther than you think.”
Will rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his mouth as Richie confidently flagged down an employee and somehow talked his way into “help” that definitely bent a few rules. Will didn’t ask questions. He just watched, equal parts impressed and exasperated.
———
Richie’s car finally rolled across the dirt and grass of the lake, the roaring engine falling flat as the boys made their way over to the picnic table where all their friends were seated, two cases of beer in Richie’s hands. The late afternoon sun reflected off the water, the air thick with that familiar summer smell of sunscreen, lake water, and charcoal.
Dustin and Lucas laughed, looking down at Richie’s hands. “Tozier! You’re the man!!” Dustin said, grabbing one of the cases of beer and starting to load them into the cooler, Lucas taking the other and accompanying Dustin by the cooler.
“I know, I know, I’m amazing and sexy and awesome and y’all were waiting for my arrival.”
Mike scoffed while El and Max giggled at Richie’s theatrics. Will made his way over to the two girls, giving them a hug before sitting next to them on the bench, though his eyes drifted back toward Richie without meaning to.
Richie caught it, of course. He always did. He shot Will a quick grin over Dustin’s head—small, almost private—before turning back to the group like nothing had happened.
“What are you sissies sitting around for?? Get in the damn water.”Richie asked, removing the last few buttons from his Hawaiian shirt. The rest stood and moved toward the water, stripping off their extra clothes and leaving them in their swimwear.
Richie lingered as they walked past, waiting for Will—who was, as usual, bringing up the back of the group. “Take your shirt off so we can get in the water, Byers.”
Will winced, squinting up at the sun. “My skin is sensitive. I burn so easily.”
“Let’s get you some sunscreen on then,” Richie suggested, already turning toward the picnic tables. He grabbed the bottle of white lotion, shook it, and poured some into his palm. Will pulled his shirt over his head and stepped closer, a little hesitant,
Richie poured a small amount into Will’s hand. “Don’t wanna burn that pretty face of yours.”
Will hit Richie’s side, but there was no real force behind it. “Shut up,” he muttered, already rubbing the sunscreen into his face, trying very hard to ignore the way Richie was looking at him.
Richie warmed more lotion between his palms, slower this time, deliberate. “Hold still.”
Will did. He told himself it was just easier that way.
Richie stepped behind him and began to spread the sunscreen across Will’s shoulders, his hands firm and unhurried. He worked it in carefully, like he had all the time in the world, thumbs pressing into the muscles at the base of Will’s neck before gliding down his back. The touch wasn’t necessary—not really. It lingered. Moved slower than it needed to. Traced the shape of him.
Will’s breath caught, just slightly.
Richie pretended not to notice. “Can’t have you frying out here. That’d ruin my whole day.”
“Richie…” Will started, though he didn’t actually know what he was going to say. Stop didn’t feel right. Neither did keep going, even if that’s what his body seemed to lean toward.
Richie’s hands moved lower, rubbing the sunscreen into the small of Will’s back, then back up along his sides, thumbs brushing just enough to make Will’s shoulders tense. “You missed a spot,” Richie murmured, voice closer now, almost at Will’s ear.
As he rubs some sunscreen onto Wills cheek—pinching it.
From the water came a chorus of laughter and exaggerated noises.
“Any excuse to touch Will, huh, Richie?” Max yelled.
Will flushed instantly, trying to step forward, but Richie’s hands were still there, grounding him in place for one second longer than necessary before finally pulling away.
“Y’know it!” Richie shouted back, laughing, though his grin softened when Will glanced over his shoulder at him.
For a moment, the noise of the lake, their friends, everything else faded into the background. Richie bumped Will lightly with his shoulder. “C’mon, sunscreen boy. Let’s go before they start splashing like maniacs.”
Will shook his head, but there was a small smile tugging at his mouth as they walked toward the water—close enough that their arms kept brushing, neither of them making any effort to move apart.
The party finds themselves all together in the water—swimming, splashing, bickering, just having a good time, the sun heating their exposed skin in the best ways. The lake glimmers around them, laughter echoing across the surface of the water. Every now and then someone gets dunked under, only to come back up sputtering and grinning while the others cheer.
Lucas swims over to Max, grabbing her by the waist, ready to lift her up. “Chicken fight, anyone??”
“Hell yes! Will, baby, c’mere,” Richie laughs, already moving before Will can protest. He lifts Will with ease and places him on his shoulders. Will wobbles slightly, trying to balance, hands instinctively going to Richie’s head for support as he lets out a startled laugh.
Will’s fingers slide into Richie’s hair, giving an accidental tug on the curls laced through them. Richie stiffens, the sudden pull sending a strange, electric jolt through him to his lower regions , a flush rising fast across his face despite the cool water.
“Richie—hold still!” Will says, breathless, though he’s already smiling.
“I am holding still,” Richie shoots back, his voice warm and teasing.
Will tries to steady himself, but the water shifts beneath them, and the movement forces him to press his knees a little closer against Richie’s shoulders. The contact sends an unexpected flutter through his chest, and he hopes the sunlight is enough to hide the way his expression softens.
Richie’s hands find their place on the boy’s thighs, firm and grounding as he keeps Will balanced. His grip is secure, thumbs brushing absently as he adjusts his hold, making sure Will doesn’t slip. “Relax,” Richie murmurs, quieter now, just for him. “I’ve got you.”
The words settle somewhere deeper than they should.
Will exhales, the tension leaving his posture as he trusts the hold beneath him. “You better,” he mutters.
Around them, the others are still arguing about rules, splashing water and trying to get Dustin over to be the referee, but for a second the noise feels distant. The sun is warm, the water cool against Richie’s chest, and Will can feel the steady rise and fall of Richie’s breathing where his hands rest for balance.
“Ready to lose?” Richie finally calls out, louder now, breaking the moment with a grin.
Lucas scoffs,“In your dreams.”
Richie laughs, tightening his hold just a fraction before charging forward into the chaos of the game.
Will falls into the water almost immediately once the fight starts, and Dustin is practically dying with laughter, like it’s the best thing he’s seen all day.
Richie scoops Will up, quickly holding him as if he were a baby.
Mike and El watch from nearby—El is full of giggles as she takes in the nonsense unfolding, Richie still holding Will while arguing with Max and Lucas about the loss.
“Alright, guys, the beer should be cold by now,” Dustin adds.
Lucas smiles. “I love the way you’re thinking, dude.”
Mike leads the way, grabbing El’s hand as they make their way out of the water.
The rest of the party follows—Richie still holding Will in his arms, poking at his sides, squeezing his thighs, just teasing the smaller boy, watching his reactions of blush painting his cheeks and laughter escaping his mouth.
Still carrying him as he makes his way out of the water, Mike looks back at the two. “You know he has legs, right?”
Richie rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m aware, I’m touching them right now.” he replies with a smirk, giving Will’s leg a quick squeeze before continuing toward the tables.
Will smiled at Richie, then glanced over at Mike. “It’s fine, Mike. What’s it to you anyway?”
Mike stared at Will in slight disbelief. “What—what? Nothing! I was just saying,” he replied defensively, a little too quickly.
Will almost laughed at Mike’s response, the tension in it so obvious it was uncomfortable.
As they walked up to the picnic tables, Richie set Will down on the bench before grabbing himself a beer out of the cooler and knocking the cap off on a nearby table.
“Aren’t you gonna be driving Will home? Why are you drinking?” Mike asked, his tone dripping with judgment and a strange anger.
Will didn’t hear the question, busying himself with El and Max, rummaging through the food cooler they brought.
Richie groaned loudly. “Do you always have to be a fucking buzzkill, Wheeler? Really? It’s one beer. I’ll be able to take him home just fine.”
Mike rolled his eyes, pushing past Richie to grab a beer of his own.
“I’m a buzzkill? Because I’m trying to make sure my friend is safe?”
Richie shoved Mike, making Mike spill some of his beer on himself. “No, you’re a fucking asshole because you’re always so worried about what I’m doing. Worry about yourself.” He exasperated the words out roughly before turning away.
The party looked over at the two boys, worried, conversation faltering as the mood shifted. Richie stormed off in the direction of his car.
“Mike, seriously? What’s your issue?” Will asked, standing from where he was sitting and grabbing Mike’s arm, dragging him toward some trees—a less crowded area.
“He’s not good for you, Will.”
Will rolled his eyes. “Really, Mike? And you know what’s good for me?”
Mike just stared at Will, not very sure what to say, his eyebrows knotted together in frustration. “The way he’s always all over you—just always touching you… like he doesn’t even let you breathe, and you don’t stick up for yourself, Will!”
“I don’t ‘stick up’ for myself because I don’t mind, Mike. I’m okay with it. Why does that bother you so much?” Will replied, using his fingers to make air quotes.
“Okay, whatever. But the smoking? You barely even drink with us! All of a sudden you smoke pot?”
“Mike… I did it once with Richie. One time.”
Mike huffed. “But it’s not like you!”
“Mike, you barely even know me anymore, so who are you to tell me what’s like me?”
“That’s the issue, Will—that’s the issue! I used to know you better than anyone.”
“You messed that up. Not me, Mike.”
Mike’s expression faltered. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
“Honestly, Mike, I don’t want to hear you apologize to me. I want you to apologize to Richie. So if you’re that sorry, you will.”
With that, Will turned on his heel and walked toward Richie’s car, heart pounding harder with every step.
⸻
When he reached the car, he walked to the driver’s side. Richie was sitting there with the door open, slouched back, rolling a blunt with quick, practiced movements that were just a little sharper than usual.
Richie looked up slowly.
Will offered a small, warm smile. “Are you okay? I’m sorry about him.”
“What? Why are you apologizing? He chose his own actions, not you. Don’t apologize.”
Will nodded, biting his lip. “I’m okay, though… just pissed off.”
Richie let out, “I can’t stand his protective act. If he wanted to be with you so badly, he should’ve taken his chance.”
Will blinked, confusion crossing his face. “What are you talking about?”
That earned an eye roll from Richie. “It’s obvious. He’s so overprotective of you, and he hates that I touch you, that I flirt with you, that I like you—” Richie cut himself off, then finished anyway, quieter, “—because he likes you.”
Will thought for a moment, realization settling in. Mike’s behavior, the tension, the arguments—it all started to make sense.
But Will could hardly focus on that when he heard what Richie had said.
That he liked him.
Will could feel his face heating up more and more as the words finally left his mouth. “You… like me?”
Richie didn’t say anything for a moment. He just stared at Will, expression uncharacteristically open. “Are you fucking kidding me, Byers? I’m head over heels for you. Has that not been obvious this whole time?”
“Well—you flirt with everyone,” Will said, almost helplessly. “You’re normally like this, Richie.”
“No.” Richie shook his head, sitting up straighter now. “I act differently with you. Way different. I don’t do the things I do with you with anyone else.”
“Oh,” was all Will could manage, his brain scrambling to catch up with his heart.
The air between them shifted—quiet, charged.
Richie watched him carefully. “If I crossed a line… tell me. I’ll back off. I just—” He exhaled. “I needed you to know.”
Will shook his head quickly. “You didn’t cross a line.”
Richie frowned slightly. “No?”
“No,” Will said again, softer this time. “I think… I was just waiting for you to say it.”
That caught Richie off guard. “Yeah?”
Will nodded, stepping a little closer to the open car door. “Yeah.”
For once, Richie didn’t have a joke ready. He just looked at Will like he was trying to make sure this was real.
Will reached out, fingers brushing Richie’s hand—hesitant at first, then more certain when Richie didn’t pull away.
Richie’s voice dropped. “You sure about this, Byers?”
Will answered by leaning in.
The kiss was tentative at first, like neither of them quite believed it was happening. Then Richie’s hand came up to steady Will at the side of his face, careful, grounding, and the hesitation melted into something warmer—something that had been building for a long time.
When they finally pulled apart, Richie let out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. “Wow, okay.”
Will huffed out a small laugh, cheeks still flushed. “You talk too much.”
“Yeah,” Richie said, smiling now. “But you like me anyway.”
Will didn’t deny it.
In the distance, the muffled sounds of their friends played in the background. Will leaned back against the open car door, watching Richie pick up the blunt he’d set down and bring it to his lips.
With the lighter in his other hand, Richie lit it, then dropped the lighter and reached out to grab Will’s hand.
They stood there like that for a few minutes, hand in hand, passing the blunt back and forth.
Until they heard a twig snap nearby.
Richie quickly dropped Will’s hand, playing it off by picking up the lighter from his lap.
When they looked over, they saw Mike, his expression unreadable, slowly continuing toward the car.
Richie immediately rolled his eyes. “What, Wheeler?”
“I’m sorry about earlier.”
“I bet you are,” Richie scoffed in response.
“Come on, man, don’t be an ass. I’m just apologizing because Will wanted me to.”
Richie shot a look over at Will, who glanced down at the ground, staring at his shoes.
“Yeah? Of course that’s why,” Richie said, his tone rough. When he glanced back at Will again, he couldn’t quite read his expression, but he didn’t look pleased with how the conversation was going.
And if what Mike said was true—that Will wanted him to apologize—Richie decided to go along with it to make Will feel better.
“Kidding,” Richie said, passing the blunt to Will. Standing up from his seat, he leaned forward and hugged Mike. “I forgive you, my dear cousin.”
Surprisingly, Mike reciprocated the hug, then walked away, heading back to the tables.
Richie looked back over at Will and saw him smiling as he brought the blunt to his lips. “Thank you,” Will said quietly, looking up at Richie through his lashes.
Richie just nodded in response, offering a small smile in return. He took the blunt from Will, taking one last drag before dipping into the car, leaning over to put it out and leaving it in the tray.
He pulled back out of the car, moving closer to Will, then placed a soft, quick kiss on his lips.
When he straightened up from leaning into the shorter boy, he had a huge grin on his face.
“I love that I can do that now,” Richie said, grabbing Will’s hand and leading them back to their group of friends.