Work Text:
Richie was hands-and-knees searching for his other black high-top sneaker. He had worn them the day before on his stag night out to the arcade, but between that night to that current afternoon, Mike had been told to clean their room. Richie didn’t trust that Mike actually cleaned it and instead just shoved everything under the bed or in the closet– that’s where Mike always was anyway, Richie told him.
“Mike!” He called, pulling out from under his bed, trying not to whack his head on the bed frame again. “Where the fuck did you put my shoes, Mike?”
“He’s in the basement.” Nancy said, poking her head into the room. “He can’t hear you, Richie.”
“Ugh, that fucking bastard. Moving my shit and then disappearing.” Richie grumbled as he got to his feet.
“Language.” Nancy said with mock-sternness. “Clean it up when mom and dad are home; you know Dad is uptight about that.”
“Fuck Ted.” Richie said, shrugging. Nancy rolled her eyes before stepping aside and letting Richie leave the room and head for the basement. “Mike!”
Richie swung around the stair banister and took swift steps towards the basement. He took the stairs two at a time, ducking his head and trying to catch a glimpse of his brother, trying to catch him before he tried to avoid him again. Mike wasn’t the only person down there– Mike’s gaggle of friends were sitting around the table, their weird dolls-and-board game crap set up in front of them. From his stop on the stairs, Richie couldn’t tell who was winning, but Mike was going off about something.
He had an English accent– one that was annoyingly better than the one Richie had been trying to copy from some Caine guy his dad watched in movies. Mike was standing from the table, reading from his weird binder, the one he constantly was adding pages and diagrams to. Will, Dustin, and Lucas were hanging on every word he said– definitely not about to tell him to shut up and keep his mouth shut. Beep Beep, Richie.
“–the town thanks you for your valiant service, gentlemen!” Mike said, grabbing Will’s hand and getting to him stand. “Peace has been restored and the prince is returned to his worried suitors!” Mike pulled Will close to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Will returned the touch, wrapping his arms around Mike’s waist as he grinned, laughing at the outrageous accent narrating the story. “The party is invited to a medal and knighting ceremony! The prince is forever grateful!” Mike continues, waving his free arm out to his friends who erupted in cheers at their accomplishments- fake accomplishments, Richie reminded himself.
The party stood around the table as Mike pretended to knight each of them, tapping his pencil on their shoulders. Richie watched silently, even stepping up farther on the stairs to avoid their line of sight. He had never seen Mike actually run a campaign with his friends. He had always heard the muffled shouting and cheering, but always assumed it was them being obnoxious, not genuinely having a good time because of Mike’s planning and apparent new ability to story-tell.
How was it that Mike was able to ramble and scream and yell and wave his hands around like an idiot and be applauded? How come he was able to wrap his arms around his friends and touch them? Every time Richie tried to tell jokes or be close with his friends, they pushed him away and told him to calm down. Sure, Richie wasn’t calm half the time, but he wasn’t trying to be malicious; he was excited. Being with his friends made him think of a thousand and one things to do with them before they had to wait until the next weekend or the next time they were all free. Richie loved his friends but apparently not as much as he loved them– or Mike’s friends loved his brother.
“Hey.” Richie announced his presence finally, stepping into the basement.
“Hey, Richie!” Will waved first, far more pleased than anyone else for his appearance. “You just missed the end of the campaign.”
“Bummer.” He said, rolling his eyes. Secretly, Richie wished he had actually caught more of it. It all seemed pretty interesting once in action.
“What do you need, Richie?” Mike asked, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. He was still holding onto Will, their hands resting on the table.
“I just, uh,” Richie looked at the binder by Mike, looking at the sketches and arrows redirecting entire pages into a fluent story; since when did Mike become the creative one?
Mike slammed the binder shut. “What, Richie?”
“I was looking for my shoe.” Richie pointed to his one bare foot, his voice getting lost as Lucas began zipping up his bag, saying that if he made his sister late to her play date again, she’d probably melt He-Man over the stove. Again.
“Haven’t seen it.” Mike shrugged. “Sorry, Rich.”
“I know you cleaned this morning.” Richie continued, trying to wait until the crowd thinned to attempt his conversation.
“I don’t remember touching your shoes.” Mike said. “I don’t touch any of your shit– Bye, Lucas! Tell Max I said hi.”
“See ya, Mike! Same time next week?” He asked, stopping on the stairs.
“Of course!” Mike smiled, waving his friend off. Lucas grinned in return before disappearing up the stairs. They were both so pleased to see the other, but also looking forward to seeing each other again– what kind of friends did that? Richie always felt like his friends left him before they reached their maximum capacity of their own tolerance of his bullshit.
“You guys do this every week?” Richie asked, walking around to sit in the chair Lucas abandoned.
“Yup!” Dustin nodded. “Well, as long as your mom doesn’t get mad about us taking over the basement.”
“She just gets mad because we’re the excuse our dad uses to not get any of the tools he has stock-piled in here.” Mike said, rolling his eyes. “Not like he helps fix anything anyway.”
“He offers to fix my bike every time I come over.” Dustin laughed. “My mom can fix it just fine when it breaks.” Mike, Dustin, and Will all nodded, laughing quietly at some joke Richie was completely left out on. He faked a chuckle to not play the fool, just like always. “Speaking of mom, I should probably head back too. I’ll see you at school, guys.” Dustin obviously meant only Mike and Will. He grabbed his bag and headed for the stairs. “Nice seeing you, Richie.”
“Nice seeing you too!” Richie called, trying to catch the last remnants of the smile offered to him before it stepped out of sight. “Bye…” Richie waved to the bottoms of Dustin’s shoes as he ascended to the first floor.
Mike cleared his throat. “So, what else is on your mind, Richie?” He asked. Mike was still holding Will’s hand, turning towards each other with their knees touching.
“Can I play next week?” Richie asked slowly.
“Why? What pranks do you have lined up?” Mike sighed, looking at Will with an unamused expression.
“N–Nothing.” Richie said hurriedly. “I just want to hang out with you.”
“No you don’t.”
“I do. I like your friends.” Richie confessed.
“We like you too.” Will grinned, nodding to Richie with warm reassurance.
“You wouldn’t mind? I mean, I don’t really know how this… this weird, stupid myth shit works but, I’m good at memorizing stuff for class so I can probably learn pretty quick.” Richie said, trying to bargain his worth. Mike held a hand out to stop him.
“Ask Dustin. He’s really good with all that stuff; he’ll give you the rundown.” Mike said. “And you’ll probably just have to sit in next week, but then after that, we’ll see how you are.”
“Really?” Richie asked, eyes probably obnoxiously wide and magnified by his glasses.
“Why are you acting so surprised?” Mike asked, looking at Will, who shrugged in return.
“I don’t know… I guess I just thought you’d say no.” Richie admitted only about a fourth of the truth– the other pieces being that he knew Mike had every reason to reject him, he had every trait his mother said was grating and unlikeable, and Richie knew that he was sometimes too scatter-brained to be of good help in games that required focus– he just couldn’t help it. Richie figured his brother would say no since everyone else in his life and been so quick to say it before.
“No, you can join us.” Mike smiled. “Don’t think we’ll be rescuing any more princes though.” Mike said, grinning at Will. “Sorry.”
“Do you have to pick me to be the stand in for the person being captured every week?” Will laughed, pushing on Mike’s chest. “Lucas can be a stolen townsperson every so often.”
“But it gives me an excuse–” Mike stood and quickly stepped behind Will’s chair, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pressing his cheek against Will’s. “I can hug an imaginary prince without breaking any party rules.”
“Fine.” Will sighed, placing his hands on Mike’s arms.
Richie stood awkwardly beside Mike’s empty chair, trying to ignore the fact he had become the other person in the room suddenly. He didn’t have enough hands to count how many times that had happened to him; he felt stupid not having gotten used to the feeling already. He couldn’t keep getting upset every time he was left out; he’d have nothing else left.
“I’m gonna go find my shoe.” Richie muttered, shuffling his feet towards the stairs. “Forget what I–”
“Wait!” Mike called after him, catching him before he took the first step. He turned to look, ready for Mike to retract his invite. “Take my binder and flip through some of the old campaigns! See what we’ve done.” He unwrapped one arm from Will’s shoulders to grab the book and hold it out to Richie. “Hope you’re ready. It gets intense really fast.”
“No no. I’m ready.” Richie grinned, grabbing the book. He hugged it to his chest as he raced up the stairs, nearly slipping with his one stocking-foot.
“Bye, Richie!” Will called. “See you next week!”
Yeah, yeah he would. He’d see Richie laughing, smiling, learning Mike’s accent techniques (because he still couldn’t be better than him), rambling most likely, being surrounded by friends, and not once being silenced. Richie was still missing his shoe, but he found something far more rewarding in his search; something to make him complete rather than just find one for his shoes.