Work Text:
There’s a shift after That Summer. Some things stay the same, but some things change. They’re still losers, but now they’re Losers. They have each other, all burrowed into special spots in each other’s hearts and souls, puzzle pieces that fit together to make a perfect whole. They could all exist apart, but God, why would they want to anymore when they know what they are together, the type of power and love they share. There’s still slurs thrown at them left and right, and new bullies step up to fill in the void left by Bowers and his gang, but it’s easier to grin when they have each other there making them all better and braver and stronger.
The town settles in a way in the wake of IT disappearing. Things go back to how they were before Georgie died. People still ignore the bullshit going on around them, but it looks like they might actually see it again. It’s worse in its own way, knowing how little people care, that they don’t need fucked up clown magic to turn a blind eye on misery and suffering. But, hey, no more clown, so at least there’s no weird monsters chasing them anymore.
Eddie goes back to Neibolt once just to retrieve the fanny pack he’d thrown away before they went in to rescue Bev. He wears it, carries around the medicines, but it’s more of an appeasement to his mother than anything else, something to make home life just that slightest bit less miserable if she’s not wailing at him about it. They catch him from time to time holding tight to the zipper, but he never opens it. He knows these moments are panic attacks, not asthma. Because he’s not sick and never has been.
Bill and Bev settle into their awkward on and off again, and the rest of them notice the deep sadness radiating off Ben. Richie in particular throws himself into distracting Ben in those times, because he knows that’s what’s coming for him too the second the girls at school open their eyes and realize all that Eddie has to offer. Misery loves company, so might as well get them settled into this part of their friendship sooner rather than later when they both feel like shit.
The weirdest change, Richie thinks, is that suddenly after That Summer, if they’re spending time at anyone’s house, it’s Richie’s. And sure, a lot of their home options don’t work at all. When Bev had still lived with her dad, not a chance, and her aunt’s place is also a tiny apartment, not suitable for an invasion of seven teenagers. Eddie’s house is also a firm no. Mike’s farm is nice, but it’s a trek out there, and Leroy Hanlon has his limits with their tomfoolery, as does Ben’s mom. Richie would have thought they’d spend more time around Bill’s house, if they were going to be hanging around houses and not out in the Barrens. Bill’s parents are still distant, hardly noticing them all. It would be really easy to just pile into Bill’s room and do whatever they please without any parental interference.
But they don’t. They go to Richie’s. And Richie is definitely aware of how lucky he is vis-a-vis his home life. His parents are really busy people. There are only two dentist offices in Derry, and Went operates the more successful one, so he’s always elbows deep in someone’s mouth, and Maggie is a lot like Richie, in that she can’t sit still, but unlike Richie, she’s a champ at channeling it into something real and productive. She does a lot of volunteer work with a lot of different organizations. So they’re always really busy, but they’re also there and awesome. Sure, Maggie is exasperated by him, but Richie knows what he’s like, and that’s fair. Plus, his dad is very encouraging, crossing the line into fully egging Richie on, and they might gang up on her a little bit, but it’s always in good fun and ends with his mom laughing her deep, deep belly laugh that makes her cough and cry for them to have mercy.
There’s always food at Richie’s place. Not the treasure trove of Hostess and Little Debbie snacks that Mrs. Kaspbrak hoards, because Went is a dentist and that fundamentally goes against whatever oath dentists take when they start practicing, but a good stock of chips and jerky and frozen pizzas. And not just snacks, real food. His mom knows her way around a cookbook, and Richie is sure no one can cook pancakes like his dad. Mike is really the only one who doesn’t get completely ravenous when the Toziers lay out a spread for the kids—not to say he doesn’t go to town on it as well; he’s also a growing boy, one who works on a farm.
Their basement isn’t like a lot of other basements Richie has been around in. Went makes really good money now, but Maggie has some sentimental attachments to older furniture that they first bought together when they got married. Instead of tossing it when they upgraded, she decided to redo the basement into a playroom for Richie. Nestled by the foot of the stairs, surrounded by the carefully stacked boxes of holiday decorations and old clothes and business papers, it’s a sweet setup. Couches and recliners with all the ugliest but most comfortable blankets and pillows, the TV and NES Richie earned mowing lawns and shoveling snow, and Went’s entire collection of records. On special slumber party nights, they even get permission to move the VCR down there to watch movies.
They’ve also got a really good backyard, and as long as they don’t trample the flowers, Went doesn’t care how long they blast each other with the hose. Hell, he’ll sit out and grill them all up burgers while they do it if it’s the weekend.
So, yeah, Richie’s place is pretty great, and he’s got a solid relationship with his parents. Not so solid that he’s ever going to be completely honest with them, but as it stands, he knows he has it the best out of all the rest of the Losers. But Richie’s house hasn’t ever really been a hangout spot for them before, and it’s kind of weird that it’s suddenly the place to be. And yeah, it’s great how much his parents put up with all of them running around all over the place, but Richie isn’t sure why they suddenly spend so much time around them, never just running in and down into the basement like they used to.
Richie notices it with Eddie in particular, but that’s also because he notices everything about Eddie in particular. Eddie has all parents wrapped around his little finger. None of them have any clue what a little shit he actually is, because in front of them he’s all smiles and manners and normal doe eyes. He saves all the anger and feral energy for the second they walk out of the room. He is closest to himself around Richie’s parents, though, mostly Richie’s dad. When Went is around and doing something, if the kids aren’t all too distracted, Eddie seems to hover a lot, watching, and Went’s a good sport. He lets Eddie bother him with questions and helping out, things Richie might try to weasel his way out of.
The first few times he notices it, Richie thinks it’s kind of weird, but then Richie considers: Eddie’s dad is dead. All Eddie has in the way of parental figures is Sonia Kaspbrak, and that’s just about the worst fucking thing in the world. So if Eddie needs a fix of some good fatherly energy, well, Richie would never begrudge him that ever. Went’s a good one.
And it isn’t just Eddie. Bev and Ben seem to hang around a bit too, Bev more than Ben, and that also makes a lot of sense because look at what she was working with. Ben hasn’t told them much, but apparently his dad wasn’t too hot either, but at least he’s got a great mom.
Bill and Mike, on the other hand, they tend to hover around Maggie, usually while she’s cooking. Stan has already been doing this for years. They trade recipes, not entirely subtle tests for whose family makes better knishes or matzoh. Mike jumps in on the action, bringing in hearty farm meals and choice meat cuts that Maggie trades for casseroles and pastries. She teaches Bill how to properly feed himself, managing all the while to never openly pass judgment on Sharon Denbrough.
So, this is how it is now, and that’s just something Richie’s going to have to suffer through. Not that it’s real suffering. His parents are cool, and he’s glad his friends have somewhere to be that they can soak up the good vibes. He’s just lucky that pretty much nothing in this world is capable of embarrassing him—he’s too busy being the embarrassing thing himself—otherwise this might be a little much.
``
The summer they’re all sixteen, there’s a terrible heatwave in July. It’s Maine, so summers are usually mild enough that there’s no worry about still wearing jeans. This summer, Richie thinks he might die if he even looks at a pair of pants. Everyone is a sweaty and miserable mess. It’s too hot to even think about making it all the way out to the quarry, so they end up at Richie’s house, blasting each other with the hose until they’re too tired to do anything more than set up the sprinkler and just sit there letting it do the work for them.
It’s the weekend after the 4th of July, so there’s nothing going on. Maggie and Went are home, both dedicating themselves to chores around the house. Stan and Mike, the smartest of them, are inside with Maggie making ice cream. Went has generously relented to the treat, so long as it’s homemade and they can control the sugar content. He’s outside with the rest of the kids, but unlike them, lounging in the grass or on the back porch, he’s half buried in the flowerbeds, pulling up weeds and replanting. He’s been over there for a long while, and Eddie and Bev are staring, probably thinking he’s as insane as Richie does.
“You’re a right madman, Pops,” Richie yells over at him. Eddie snorts, but Richie really thinks the British Guy is improving.
Went answers in kind. “Bloody bonkers, my good lad.” He throws Richie a grin over his shoulder. He’s gross and sweating and covered in dirt. You’d never think this man runs a successful dental practice that prides itself on cleanliness and excellent oral hygiene.
“Soft in the head, I’d say!”
“Corking!”
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie mutters, and his cheeks are very red, so red that it’s almost impossible to make out his freckles, which is too cute for Richie to handle, so Richie shoves him, laughing, because that makes Eddie turn his attention away from Went and shove Richie back.
A few moments later, Maggie comes out of the house with a platter of sandwiches. Mike and Stan trail after her, a tray of glasses and pitcher of lemonade in hand. They set everything up on the porch table, and Maggie crosses the yard to hand Went a shirt. “Put this on, honey,” she says, a little loudly, Richie thinks. “You’ll turn into a lobster.”
“Is that not the base state for a man from Maine,” Went asks with a laugh. He doesn’t take the shirt until Maggie starts shaking it in his face, whining dramatically about the heat all the while. He starts buttoning it up, and beside Richie, Beverly makes a very distinct noise of disappointment.
Richie’s head whips around to stare at her. “Excuse me, Miss Marsh,” he hisses, because no way. No fucking way. But Bev’s eyes go wide, and the pink across her cheeks is not just from the sun. “What the fuck—“
“Shut up, Richie!” She shoves him up the porch and over to the sandwiches. “Shut up.”
Richie looks around at the others, because he absolutely cannot deal with this, and he needs them all to share in his incredulity. Stanley—the traitor—has that particular expression on his face, the one where it’s completely passive, but Richie knows he’s fighting off a smile. He thinks this is hilarious. It is not. Bill and Mike look confused, and Ben is doing that thing he does where he is trying very, very hard to pretend he doesn’t notice something, which is the most obvious thing in the world. Eddie is staring at his sandwich and chewing methodically like it’s something that requires the complete and entirety of his attention or else the world will end.
Everyone doubles down harder as Maggie and Went step back up on the porch, reaching for their own sandwiches and glasses. Went munches along happily, and Maggie’s smiling eyes breeze over the kids as she leans into his side. Richie wants to die. Maggie didn’t bring that shirt out because she was worried about Went getting a sunburn. She brought it because Went was out here gardening topless like a hussy in front of impressionable young children.
Richie is going to scream.
“Something wrong with your lunch, baby,” Maggie asks, and Richie shoves the entire sandwich in his mouth to keep himself from causing a scene.
It’s later in the evening, down in the basement, when Richie can no longer contain the hurt of this betrayal. “Beverly Anne Marsh—“
“Definitely not my middle name,” Bev says.
“Do you care to explain yourself and that shameless display?”
Bev rolls her eyes, but her cheeks have gone pink again. “What display,” Mike asks.
“Oh, oh, you didn’t see,” Richie cries.
“Can you please calm down,” Bev asks.
“I have never been calm once in my entire life,” Richie yells, and Stan sighs in a long suffering way beside him. “Shut the fuck up, Stanley!”
“Wh-what is happening r-right now,” Bill asks, pausing Super Mario 3. He’s on a water level, and that’s going to take full concentration. He can’t be distracted by Richie’s complete and justified meltdown.
“Explain yourself, young lady,” Richie demands.
“Is this really a big deal,” Eddie asks, face in his hands. His ears are red, and he looks more embarrassed by this whole thing than Beverly does. She should take note.
“Of course it’s a big deal,” Richie cries. “How would it not be a big deal? Bev! Beverly Marie!”
“Also definitely not my name.”
“I’m s-s-so confused,” Bill says. He looks up at Mike, who shrugs.
“This is so fucking stupid,” Eddie says, still not pulling his face from his hands. “Who cares?”
“I care,” Richie says. “I very much care. Our own Beverly Catherine—“
“It’s like you’re trying to find my nun name,” Bev says.
“—spent the afternoon ogling my dad!”
“Oooooh,” Mike drawls out, confusion cleared up, and Bill makes an uncomfortable expression beside him. Richie points at him forcefully, accepting this as agreement. Eddie seems to shrink himself even smaller. Mike then grins and pats at Ben’s shoulder. “She could join your mom’s book club.”
“Mike,” Ben cries, his face turning an alarming shade of red, and Richie’s brain short circuits.
“Ben’s...mom’s...what...?”
“Mike, he doesn’t need to know about that,” Ben says desperately.
“He might not, but now I do,” Stan says, and the betrayal cuts deeper.
Mike nudges Ben, and with an apologetic glance at Richie, Ben says, “So my mom’s in this book club, right? They meet every other week, and well, it’s happened more than once. Mike was over one time, so he heard the conversation too. It’s a book club, but, you know, they get off topic sometimes. Gossip, you know. Um, they talk about men in town who they think are—you know—um—“
“Hot,” Mike supplies, and Richie throws a pillow at him as hard as he can.
“Dr. Tozier comes up a lot in those talks,” Ben adds, and Richie throws a pillow at him too.
“You are all gross, terrible people,” Richie cries. “That’s my dad!”
“That’s real rich, coming from you,” Eddie says, finally looking up. His face is even redder than Ben’s, but he’s got on his usual scowl. “The way you talk about my mom.”
“Sonia and I are in love,” Richie yells. That’s a joke. Everyone knows that’s a joke that’s only meant to rile Eddie up. But Bev is over here actually crushing on his dad, and Richie needs new friends. “And there are certain passions that come from being in love that—“
Eddie jumps on him, attacking with a pillow. Richie’s glasses go flying. He sees the shape of Stan reach over to hold them safely out of the way of the wrestling match that, if history has any say, will take Eddie and Richie all over this basement floor. They roll all over the place, their friends leaning to the side or getting up completely to avoid being hit themselves, yelling anything at all at each other.
Richie has hit a growth spurt that’s left Eddie in the dust. Only Mike is taller than him now, so Richie has the advantage of longer limbs, but he is, admittedly, a complete noodle. Eddie, in defiance of his mother, has joined the track team, which means now he works out. A lot. It’s going to kill Richie. And it’s his current downfall when Eddie gets a particularly good handle on him and pins him with a knee in the back.
“At least it’s a compliment,” Eddie says, breathing heavily. Richie squints up at him, his lost glasses a blessing and a curse. Eddie, red-faced, hair mused, probably grinning smugly in victory. A beautiful sight to behold, but one that would destroy Richie if he saw it too clearly. Looking at Eddie is always like looking into the sun.
“How is Beverly lusting after my dad a compliment,” Richie asks, and Beverly whaps him hard with a pillow that might be stuffed with rocks.
“I am not lusting,” Bev cries. “It’s just—look—his shoulders, ok?”
Richie wails, “Oh my God, you hussy! Never speak again. Oh my God, I’m going to die.” In a horrible move of solidarity and misplaced compassion, Eddie switches his position on Richie’s back, sitting on him hard enough to knock all the air from his lungs. “Demon,” Richie wheezes.
“Thank you, Eds,” Beverly says.
“Anytime, Bev,” Eddie answers pleasantly. Then he turns his meaner scoff back to Richie. “You look like your dad. Since he’s so—I mean—if Bev and Ben’s mom and her friends think he looks good, it stands to reason your face has a chance of not still looking like this when you grow up. You might actually look not like a goober.”
An Eddie compliment through and through. A nice sentiment wrapped up in the meanest language he can manage. And, as best as Richie can tell, Eddie might be smiling at him. What can Richie’s heart do but sing? “Eds,” Richie says seriously, because he lives to ruin a moment. “I’m also going to need you to control your lust for my dad.”
Eddie does his very best to smother Richie to death with the ugliest throw pillow in the basement.
``
After Derry, Richie’s parents are thrilled to see him reconnecting with the Losers. They’d forgotten all about them too when they moved away, but the mere mention of “Hey, Mom, you remember that Eddie kid? I might be dating him now” and his mother had suddenly remembered exactly where she packed up all the old photo albums.
And so when Went turns seventy, all the Losers are included in on the guest list. Went’s birthday is the week before Christmas, so they go in for the two birds with one stone special and turn the trip into a week long holiday vacation in Chicago. Like in the old days, Maggie has Stan in the kitchen, and they’re both still locked in war on who makes the best latkes. There will be a very bitter battle later involving brisket, and Stan has only gotten more intense about it since living half his life in Georgia. Patty plants herself on a stool next to Richie, sticking to the sidelines. Bev has volunteered her expertise to finish up the decorations. Bill follows along after her, as it gets him out of babysitting duty with the twins. Ben and Eddie are trying to get them to build snow castles out in the yard, but Mike and Went have figured out the better deal and are teaching them the best way to throw snowballs and cheering very loudly at any hits to the face.
When they fall back inside, red-faced and giggling, Maggie whips up hot chocolate. She takes one of the girls from Patty’s lap, settling in with her offering. The girls are both delighted at the piles of marshmallows topping their cups. “They’re getting very spoiled up here,” Patty says, pushing back soaked curls from her daughter’s forehead.
“Well, until Richie and Eddie get a move on,” Maggie says very loudly over her shoulder. “I’ve got to put all this grandmotherly energy somewhere.”
“No hablo English, Mother,” Richie yells back. They are actually talking about it. Pretty seriously. Eddie has reservations, but they both really love the idea of their own little someones toddling around after Stan and Patty’s twins and the soon to arrive Marsh-Hanscom baby boy whose name is still under intense debate. If they go through with it, Patty has already agreed to be their surrogate. There were lots of tears shed between Richie and Stan while she and Eddie took pictures.
As the party approaches, they take shifts getting ready. Richie mixes up his dad a drink as his mom walks in with necklace dangling from her fingers. Went reaches out to take it and fasten it for her, and Maggie sighs happily, “Look at my two handsome boys.” She brushes fingers through their hair.
Richie squirms away, but Went stands contented. “Mom,” Richie whines, more obligatory than anything else. Does one ever outgrow being a brat when complimented by their parents in front of their friends?
“But you are,” Maggie coos. “A chip off the old block.” She pats Went’s cheek.
“Sorry about that, son,” Went says. “You got the raw end of the deal. Would have been better for poor Eddie if you’d ended up looking more like your beautiful mother.” He laughs when Maggie swats at his chest.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Bev says. “You clean up pretty good, Dr. Tozier.”
It’s been five years since the second showdown in Derry, five years since the clown magic that locked away their childhood memories began to fade. They have pretty much everything back now, but there are moments when some memories hit them in intense ways, different than it would be for someone else recalling something from that long ago. It’s always so much clearer, like it happened days ago instead of years. And Bev’s comment suddenly calls up one very hot summer weekend. “Beverly Grace,” Richie cries, whirling on her.
“Still very much not my name,” Bev says, and then pauses. The memory catches up to her too, and she bursts into wild laughter. “I stand by it,” she cries. “I was correct all along! Where’s Eddie? He’ll back me up here.”
“He will not,” Richie yells back.
“Are you—are you calling yourself ugly,” Ben asks. “Are you saying your husband thinks you’re ugly?”
Stan’s arm slips around Patty’s shoulders. “He’s very good at the unintentional self-burn.”
Eddie walks into the room, folding up the crisp sleeves of his button down to expose his forearms in a manner that is a personal attack on Richie’s entire being. “What are we yelling about,” he asks.
Beverly grins like a cat who got the canary. “Beverly Margaret,” Richie starts, but she shushes him, throwing a napkin at his face.
“Eddie, Eds,” Bev says. “Do you remember when we were kids and I said that Richie was definitely going to grow into his looks? You’d agree, wouldn’t you?”
Eddie’s brows pull low over his eyes, and he looks between them all warily. He knows he’s being dragged into something here, but he also never passes up an opportunity to compliment Richie when he does bother to look nice. Positive reinforcement and all that. “Well, I did sort of divorce my ex-wife for him, so I guess I’d have to agree there’s something aesthetically pleasing about him,” Eddie says.
No one ever said the compliment had to be soft and kind. At least not in public. Eddie usually waits until they’re alone to completely destroy Richie like that.
Beverly’s grin stretches into something truly diabolical. Stan, who is no longer Richie’s best friend, smirks openly and widely at what he knows is coming. Mike tries and fails to hide his giggling in the rim of his beer glass. Richie decides that Mike’s eternal supply of goodwill for being their lighthouse keeper all those years has in this moment dried up. Mike is now mortal and fallible like the rest of them. Bev goes on, “Would you not also agree, Eddie, that Dr. Tozier, Richie’s father who he so very much resembles, is looking very handsomely put together for his birthday celebration this evening?”
And just like that, Eddie’s eyes go wide, and his face burns red.
For a long moment, Richie feels nothing. His brain does not function. He has no thoughts. He just stands there and gapes and tries to make sense of the clear expression of embarrassment on Eddie’s face, embarrassment because—
“Eddie,” Richie screeches.
“You don’t get to say shit to me about this,” Eddie yells back, and Beverly, Mike, and Stan howl with laughter.
“Eddie!”
“The things you said about my mom!”
“Oh, like we all don’t know that I hated Sonia,” Richie cries, waving his hands dismissively. “This is—this—I cannot believe!”
“Why are you offended by this,” Eddie asks. “I mean, you look like your dad so—“
Richie just screams wordlessly.
“I am very confused,” Went finally speaks.
“Richie’s just realizing that Eddie had that little crush on you when they were kids, dear,” Maggie says.
“Mother,” Richie cries.
Went nods. “Oh, yeah, that,” he says casually as you please. “Forgot about that one.”
“Father!”
Stan leans his elbow on the counter, propping his chin in his hand. “Would it break you completely to know that Bill and I also had crushes on your mom,” he asks, and Bill chokes on his beer, shooting Stan a betrayed looked when he surfaces. Richie gapes, brain now totally offline, his understanding of the universe more off kilter than when he stared into the unfathomable eyes of a giant turtle god. “The first Jewish woman to have my heart,” Stan says. “Sorry, Maggie, but I did have to move on.” He cuddles Patty closer to his side.
“A worthy replacement,” Maggie says, and Patty blows her a kiss.
“Et tu, Brutus,” Richie wails when he can finally form words again.
Went sips lightly at his cocktail. “Feels more like a Judas situation to me,” he says.
Bev cocks her head. “Why do you two always try to turn everything Catholic? And by the way, my nun name will be Beverly Francis, thank you. Maybe Beverly Agnes. Agnes feels properly old and repressed.”
“Don’t let the stereotypes fool you,” Went says. “There was a nun at my high school, ancient lady, something like two-thousand years old, who tackled a kid for trying to do a keg stand on a water fountain. We might be burdened with crippling guilt, but Catholics know how to party.”
“I need entirely new friends,” Richie says. “New friends and new parents and a new husband.”
“I’m kind of a one and done guy when it comes to divorce, sorry,” Eddie says dryly. His cheeks are still pink. Good. He should be ashamed of himself. They should all be ashamed, lusting after Richie’s poor, innocent parents.
Well, at least this is free material for his next show. The entire bit writes itself, and he needs no embellishment. He can just get up on the stage and scream for a solid fifteen about how awful his friends are.