Archive of Our Own ^beta

From: Eddie Spaghetti

Would you come to the courthouse with me?

Richie had to reread the text six times, not only because he had just barely been awake at 3:15 on a Tuesday morning, but because the words didn’t click. He knew what Eddie meant, obviously, because the courthouse had been the focus on all the Losers conversation for weeks now, and Richie would be a pretty shitty friend if he wasn’t aware of the happenings of his best friend’s divorce. 

But he does what any rational person would do in his situation - calls Stan. 

”Richie, I really hope you aren’t dying but you better be fucking dying if you’re calling me at this time.”

Stan sounds annoyed and grumpy, but considering that’s the default tone of his voice when talking to Richie, Richie decides to ignore him.

”It’s almost six thirty, the birds are up and about already so shouldn’t you be too?” He counters and makes a few chirp noises, trying to mimic the asshole birds that wake him up sometimes. Stan is not amused.

”I’m going to hang up now.” There’s rustling on the other end of the line like Stan is trying to figure out where the off button is - even though he should known since he hangs up on Richie on the regular. Richie will never not be sad about having missed out on knowing Stan when flip phones were a thing, he would have loved to witness Stan dramatically hanging up on someone by loudly snapping the phone shut. 

But anyway, Stan always calls Richie back almost immediately after hanging up on him, because even if he’s tired of Richie’s shit he’s a good friend. Tonight though Richie doesn’t want to go through the whole ordeal, so he’s quick to yell ”No no no, please don’t Stan, I’m having a crisis!”

There’s rustling again and then a faint click from presumably a bedside lamp before Stan sighs dramatically.

”Is it Eddie related?”

”What? How did you -”

”Well firstly, you never know what time it is in Atlanta unless you’ve had to check what time it is in New York. And secondly, you’re always having an Eddie-related crisis, Richie. Ever since he put that first bandage on your dumb knee after you fell over when we were five.”

Stan’s voice is very matter-of-fact and Richie would love to argue with him just on principal, but he can’t really argue with facts, can he? So instead he groans and buries his face into the pillow to mumble a weak ’fuck you’.

Stan makes an affirmative noise, like he’s acknowledging Richie’s cursing but not dignifying it with an answer, which is such a Stan response that Richie can’t help but be a little bit like Richie too and argue back.

”I’m not always having an Eddie crisis…” he mutters and Stan snorts.

”Yeah, sure, not always.” Richie can feel the eyeroll. ”Only every time he’s short or angry or cute cute cute - which is always in your lovestruck opinion, so yeah, I’d say the crisis is ongoing.”

Richie presses his face deeper into the pillow and groans again, making sure it’s loud enough for Stan to hear.

”Okay, fucking fine, should have known my morning roast would come from you and not my espresso machine”, he says after sufficient amount of groaning, and Stan breaths out a laugh that was most definitely an accident. It makes Richie smile, because making Stan laugh is a close second to making Eddie laugh, and even more rare since Stan is way better at keeping his poker face when it comes to Richie. So hearing him laugh - even if accidental - is like seeing a shooting star.

”So”, Stan starts after a beat ”Eddie?”

Richie sighs, flopping onto his back. He stares at the ceiling and takes a moment to appreciate Stan and the fact that he just said Eddie’s name, giving Richie the option to choose whatever topic within the broad umbrella of the man to talk about, if he so chooses.

”He send me a text, like, half an hour ago, which - too early to be awake, right? It’s barely been two months, and he got stabbed, fucking twice, so six o’clock is way too fucking early for him to be awake, right? And -”

”Richie”, Stan interrupts with a surprising amount of patience. ”I’m aware of what happened - I was there. I do agree that it’s quite early for him to be awake - and it’s also quite early for me to be awake may I add - but more importantly it’s way too late for you to still be awake.” His voice is pointed but not judging and Richie rubs his eyes.

”Yeah, well”, he says as a matter of explanation and is very thankful when Stan seems to understand. 

Of course he does, he is one of the six people that do.

”So, anyway” Richie continues when the silence goes on a bit too long. ”He sends a text, and it’s just ’would you come to the courthouse with me’. With, like, proper grammar, capital letter and question mark and all.”

”So like you’re supposed to text as an adult”, Stan states.

”Well we can’t all be Shakespeare can we?”

”Do you even know how to spell Shakespeare?” Stan asks, sounding so pleased with himself that Richie can’t believe he ever forgot what a little shit Stan was.

”Jeez, didn’t realize I was getting a fucking double roast this late. Or early, whatever.”

Stan doesn’t answer - not with words at least - but he does clear his throat and it sounds like ’get to the point, Richie’, so he does.

”Stan, what does it mean?” He whines, dragging out the last word in a way that makes him sound like a whiny teenager, but in all reality it’s not too much off base since he is talking about his crush on the phone with a friend like he’s back in high school.

Stan sighs. ”I think it means he’s asking if you would come to the courthouse with him”, he says, which is very unhelpful.

”That is very unhelpful, Stanley.”

”Well, Richard, that’s what you told me he said, so unless you lied I’m just repeating his words back to you.”

”You’re such a smartass, I should have called Mike.”

”But you called me so out with it Tozier, what’s going on in that massive head of yours?” Stan asks with authority that says he’s done with Richie avoiding actually voicing the issue.

Richie is quiet for a moment before letting out a long breath. ”He’s finalizing his divorce, what does he want me there for? Why not - I don’t know, Bill or Mike or you, or literally any other person on this earth whose more equipped with dealing with emotions”, he says, and immediately feels like a whiny insecure bitch, so he quickly adds on ”Fuck, I don’t know, I’m just overthinking this” for some extra self-deprecation.

”Yes, you are”, Stan deadpans, not unkindly. ”Rich, you’re his best friend. Of course he wants you there.”

”Yeah, but like -”

”No buts - and don’t make a fucking ass joke you asshole.”

”Then stop giving me great openings you fucker”, Richie shoots back, and feels the answering eye roll deep in his soul.

”Richie”, Stan starts, and Richie wonders if in another life Stan would have followed his dad’s footsteps and become a rabbi, because he’s great at getting people to listen to him. ”You think you’re not equipped with dealing with emotions - which, okay, I see your point, but Richie, c’mon, it’s Eddie. There is literally no one on this earth who is more equipped with dealing anything Eddie related than you. You might not be good with emotions, but you’re good with him.”

”No, I’m not -”

”Richie”, Stan interrupts in his no-nonsense voice. ”I repeat - it’s Eddie. You know Eddie better than anyone. You know how he works, how his mind works, and you know how to get him out of his head. He has his things and baggage - as do we all, but you’ve always carried most of his on your shoulders so he wouldn’t have to.” 

Richie wants to disagree, because he hasn’t carried Eddie’s baggage on his shoulders, but it certainly wasn’t for the lack of trying so he keeps his mouth shut. 

”If he’s asking you to go with him - and he is, don’t overthink it - it means he wants you to go”, Stan finishes with a finality that Richie can’t really disagree with.

”I… Okay. Okay, fuck, okay”, Richie says and takes a deep breath, feeling as if he’s suddenly able to bring so much more air into his lungs. ”Fuck you Stan for always being the voice of reason”, he adds, just because.

Stan snorts. ”And as the voice of reason I am ordering you to go to sleep.”

”Oh, right”, Richie says, suddenly feeling so bone tired he can’t hold in a massive yawn that makes his jaw pop.

Stan laughs so hard Richie has plenty of time to make himself sleep ready and comfortable underneath his blanket before Stan’s calmed down. He’s pretty sure he’d never gotten Stan to laugh for that long in his life through his jokes, and it should be insulting to his career that all it took was a weird noise from his weird body to get the reaction, but he can’t bring himself to do anything but smile sleepily into his pillow.

”Thanks Staniel, laugh at my pain”, he murmurs through another yawn. ”And also just… thank you”, he add after a moment, when he could feel Stan very pointedly not saying anything.

”You’re welcome”, Stan replies, sounding satisfied that he’d gotten some manners out of Richie. ”It will be okay, you know”, he adds gently, and Richie wants to argue just for arguments sake, but he also wants to fucking sleep so he just mumbles something unintelligible and closes his eyes.

He falls asleep a minute later, when Stan hangs up on him after calling him a human disaster. He doesn’t mind, because just as sleep is enveloping him Richie can hear his phone ping, and he’s certain there will be a text that says ’Love you, Trashmouth’ on it when he wakes up.

There is.

~*~*~

Richie is not a beer guy. He never has been, and he doesn’t really get the appeal. Beer is beer, right? The same way wine is wine, be it red or white or rosé, and everyone who spends more than fifteen dollars on a bottle is a fucking idiot. 

But at least with wine is easy to understand the differences, right? You just look at the color and you know. But beer is a fucking nightmare. There is IPA and APA and lager and pilsner and porter and stout and god knows what else. He doesn’t fucking understand any of it, and it’s just so much easier to just go for the cheapest option.

Bill, very unsurprisingly, is not like this. He is the worst kind of beer guy, the pretentious type that does research and has a favorite brewer and always tries a new type when going out, and never has just one brand in his fridge. 

Right now Richie’s sitting at Bill’s breakfast bar, intently staring at the bottle in his hand. He’d grabbed two from the fridge, completely at random and entirely unsure if they were even beer and not a fancy sauce or something, and he’d decided which one they’d be drinking entirely by the design - he’d get the fancy, colorful, clearly made-for-ladies one, and Bill’d get the dark, broody and clearly made-for-manly-men one.

Richie’s reading the back of the bottle, trying to make sense of the ingredients but understanding absolutely nothing beside the alcohol percentage. He opens his mouth to ask what the fuck he’s about to drink, but what comes out instead is ”Bill, what’s the difference between would and could?”

”Huh?” Bill mumbles back, clearly distracted by whatever he was currently chopping.

”What’s the difference between would and could?”

”Is this about Eddie?” Bill clarifies, and he’s still chopping and distracted but still somehow immediately saw through Richie.

”How the fuck did you - whatever, yes it is about Eddie”, Richie grumbles back, wanting to be annoyed that apparently he was just an open book to his friends, but ended up just feeling giddy about having friends in the first place. ”He sent me a text asking if I would come to the courthouse with him”, Richie adds, after Bill makes a noncommittal yet encouraging hmph? -sound.

”Okay?” Bill says slowly, shoving - carrots, Richie now sees, to the pan that already has who knows what in it.

”And I’m just curious about the word choice”, Richie explains, picking at the label on the bottle. What use is there in it anyway, if he doesn’t understand what it says?

”Ah”, Bill answers as if he finally gets it and turns around to look at Richie with an amused expression. ”So you’re overthinking it.”

”I’m not overthinking it, I’m regularthinking it”, Richie defends himself, and he knows Bill is about to make a stupid ’don’t hurt yourself’ - comment, so he quickly adds ”Look, can you just use your big boy author brain and tell me the difference?”

”Richie, you talk for a living. You should know the difference”, Bill points out highly unhelpfully and Richie groans loudly.

”Bill, I will have sex with your wife, I swear to God.”

Bill looks baffled, stopping in between turning back around to attend the… whatever with carrots. ”What a weird… threat? Insult? Statement?” He glances back at Richie before rolling his eyes, twisting around to quickly shuffle stuff around in the pan, before removing it from the stove and turning the heat off and turning back to give Richie his full attention again. Richie is thankful, but he hopes the food was actually ready and he isn’t about to eat something uncooked just because he had undiagnosed ADHD at school and paid attention to absolutely nothing outside a certain gremlin. 

”Okay, fine”, Bill starts and raises his eyebrows pointedly so Richie stops playing with the beer label and listen. ”Basically, if Eddie’d asked if you could come, he’d be asking if it was possible for you to do so. You could have another commitment already which would mean you couldn’t go with him, doesn’t matter if you’d want to or not.”

”I don’t have any other commitment and I want to go with him”, Richie says immediately because he has no filter when it comes to Eddie - or in general, usually.

”…right, you don’t have to tell me that”, Bill points out but he can’t hide the amused smirk and Richie shoves his tongue out in retaliation. Bill ignores him and carries on. ”But he asked if you would go, which means he wants to know if you’d do it. Not if you are able to, necessarily, but if you would given the chance. It’s more about giving you the option to choose, asking if you’d like to. It’s -” he cuts himself off and frowns, staring into nothingness for a bit before focusing back on Richie. ”It’s a bit tricky, because in theory you could be able to, but not want to, or you might want to, but not be able to.”

Richie blinks before groaning very loudly. ”Thanks, this was very confusing and highly unhelpful.”

”Well I don’t know what you expected Richie”, Bill says with an offended eyebrow raise. ”That is the difference. Of course, if you wanted to know why he said what he said, you’re really asking the wrong person here.”

”I know”, Richie mumbles, but shoots Bill a thankful smile before shoving the manly-looking bottle towards him on the table and smirking. ”Your books really are too shitty for me to be taking any literature advice from you.”

”Hey!” Bill shouts out, offended, and Richie cackles loudly until Bill throws a carrot at him.

~*~*~

”Beeeeeev”, Richie whines the second the call is picked up. He’s standing in the middle of his room, contemplating if he should lie face first on the bed or the floor. There’s an interested but nonverbal noise from the other end of the line as Richie chooses the bed - he’s unsure if he could get back up from the floor with his shitty knees.

”Bev, what should I wear, help me”, he groans, throwing himself on the bedding.

”When have you ever in your life cared about - oh, wait, Eddie, nevermind.” Her voice is muffled like she has a mouth full of pins. Richie makes a mental note to remind her to not do that, but for now he lets it slide.

”I could have issues that are completely unrelated to Eddie, you know”, Richie points out, and turns on his side with a grunt after realizing his smoker-lungs are in no working order if he’s lying on his front. 

”Oh sweetie, I know you have other issues”, Bev says chipperly. ”But none of them all wardrobe related. I had to remind you that a hoodie with its sleeves cut off is not an acceptable clothing choice to a formal dinner just last week.”

”It was a very cool hoodie”, Richie mumbles, not really wanting to start the argument again but wanting to point that out. Admittedly it was from Walmart, but that didn’t make it any less cool.

”Yes, I’m sure it was honey - for a middle schooler”, Bev replies sweetly and Richie can hear spitting before her voice comes back clearer. ”Now, back to Eddie. You’re going to see him?”

”It’s not about Eddie, it’s about clothes”, Richie insists, even though the jig was up.

”It’s about clothes to wear for Eddie.”

”Not for Eddie, but for court”, Richie argues and can practically hear the lightbulb turning in Bev’s mind.

”What, for court?” she asks, all her attention now fully on Richie. ”He has his final court date?”

”Yeah, he, umh, he asked me to go with him. Or, well, he asked if I would go with him, but don’t worry I already dissected that with Stan and Bill, so now I’m just…” Richie doesn’t finish the sentence, because he’s not quite sure what he’s just. He flops on to his back and tries again. 

”Bev, I’m going to accompany him to the courthouse where he is going to finalize his divorce and I am freaking the fuck out and -” It seems like his body figured out quite quickly exactly what he is just, and it seems the answer is panicking. He’s panicking.

”No you’re not”, Bev interrupts immediately when she realizes what’s happening. ”You’re not freaking the fuck out, because we are going to distract you!” she adds, and if Richie’s mind wasn’t busy with creating hysteria, he could visualize Bev looking around trying to figure out a distraction. 

”You are going to tell me what would be the dream outfit you’d wear in this scenario!” Bev suddenly whoops excitedly. The excitement seems only partially fake, so Rich pays attention when she adds ”And then I’ll tell you what the acceptable compromise is, okay?”

”A wedding dress”, Richie replies instantly. Bev snorts very loudly and Richie is very glad she no longer has pins in her mouth.

”Please explain”, she says, sounding delighted.

”Well”, Richie starts and then stops, thinking his words over and focusing on breathing. It’s unlike him, but instead of making fun of him in her usual fashion Bev waits him out, knowing the whole point of this was to stop Richie’s panic, and if it means waiting a second for him to justify wearing a wedding dress for divorce proceedings, then so be it. 

”People always say you’re not supposed to wear a wedding dress for a wedding, unless you’re, well, the one getting married, right?”, Richie explains after a beat. ”So I figure, the opposite of a wedding is divorce, so you must be able to wear a wedding dress for that, right?”

”I really don’t know how to argue with that logic”, Bev replies with clear laughter in her voice. ”I mean it’s an insane, but a very good argument. You should make a bit out of it”, she adds, and Richie immediately makes another mental note. He’s already come to terms with the fact that within months his stand-up will only consist of bits that the Losers find funny, and he just hopes it’ll work out for the unimportant people too. 

”I think the option Eddie wouldn’t strangle you in is a sensible suit, yeah?” Bev suggests, and then immediately takes it back. ”No, sensible is the wrong word, casual is better. Yeah, I’ll give you permission to wear one of your ridiculous shirts, as long as it’s ironed and at least three of the buttons are undone so people are distracted by your chest rather than the horrible print, and you’ll also wear a suit jacket. And black jeans!” Bev says the last part with added enthusiasm, and Richie knows she must be picturing it in her head in great detail.

”You’ll give me permission? What are you, my mum?” he asks with a fake sneer that Bev immediately sees through.

”Since you never learned how to dress yourself - yes”, she deadpans, and they are both quiet for a second before laughter fills the line on both ends.

It dies down a moment later, and then it’s quiet again before Bev gently asks ”Did it work?” 

Richie nods before realizing she can’t see him. ”Yeah, full hysteria averted. Thank you Ringwald, knew I could count on you.”

”No problem sweetie”, Bev says gently and Richie pretends the genuine petname doesn’t make him feel all warm inside.

”I hate to have to cut our call so short, but this garment isn’t going to sew itself, and I’m afraid if I keep you on the line you’ll make me laugh and I’ll accidentally attach myself to it”, Bev says after a beat, and her voice is apologetic but uncertain, and Richie knows she’d stay with him if he needed it. But he doesn’t need it now any more than he normally does, so he waves her off.

”Nah, it’s fine. Even though I think an added Beverly Marsh would only add value to a garment, I’ll let you go. I now know how to dazzle all the widowers who are hanging around court, having just gotten filthy rich from their husbands dying under mysterious circumstances, so I’m all set.”

Bev snorts. ”Yeah, rich widowers indeed. Anyway, remember the buttons! At least three undone, I’m sure the divorcé would appreciate it”, she says pointedly and Richie feels his face heat up.

”Yeah yeah, a polo shirt and a fully zipped jacket with a scarf, got it! Love you Bevvie!” Richie replies and ends the call on the sound of Bev’s laughter.

He gets a text a moment later with the words ’I think he’d like this’ accompanied by a link to a shirt that Richie buys without bothering to even glance at the price.

~*~*~

Getting in touch with Mike was sometimes more difficult. He was still very much enjoying everything the world had to offer when you weren’t stuck in a racist town with a child-eating demon clown, so it wasn’t uncommon for him to take slightly longer to text or call back than it did the other Losers. He always did make a point of informing them in advance if he was going to be stuck in Bumfuck, Nowhere without battery life or reception, so they wouldn’t worry too much.

Which is why, while staring at an empty word-document on his laptop, Richie glances at the caller ID and answers with ”So, where is the Great Micycle Hanlon heading up next? Bungee jump from the most racist guys head at Mount Rushmore? Save the giant pandas from extinction in China? Perhaps a very titillating and tantalizing convention on bookbinding in Helsinki?”

”Wow, those were some big words Richie, I see someone’s been using dictionary and thesaurus recently”, Mike laughs goodheartedly.

”The-who now?” Richie asks, not because he doesn’t know what a thesaurus is but because he wants to hear Mike laugh again. He does.

”Even though all your suggestions sound lovely, my plans are way less exciting.”

”Bookbinding in Helsinki would be exciting to you?” Richie clarifies genuinely baffled.

”It would”, Mike replies without a trace of sarcasm. ”But I feel like I’m in the mood to get a beer with a comedian who’s in the midst of rebranding himself, actually.”

”Ooh, exciting, I think I know one of those!” Richie whoops out and straightens himself. ”Please tell me you mean like within few days, because I have such a writers block I might have to do a rebrand of my rebrand if someone doesn’t save me soon.”

”Well, in that case someone should save you soon”, Mike laughs. ”What do you say, in two hours?”

”In two hours?”

”My flight to South-Dakota got cancelled so I had some free time and decided to head here instead”, Mike replies nonchalantly, like it’s no big deal. And Richie knows it actually isn’t, and he’s so happy that Mike finally gets to live his life whatever way he wants.

”So I was close with the Mount Rushmore thing!” Richie exclaims happily.

”I’m actually surprised you know what state it’s in”, Mike teases and Richie scoffs.

”I know many things, for example that I am most definitely free within two hours, so let’s get cracking!”

~*~

Mike had given Richie free reign to decide on which bar they would go to, and for a brief moment Richie had considered the one that has a massive signed poster of him behind the bar, but eventually decided against it. He’d love to see Mike’s reaction to it, but it’s also pretty much a free pass for people to recognize him, so instead he takes Mike to a quieter location that he frequents sometimes.

Mike’s already there when Richie arrives, fashionably late as always. He runs to crush Mike into a hug and bury his face into his neck, pretending he’s not tearing up. It’s good to see Mike. He looks healthier and happier, freedom radiating off of him, and Richie is so glad.

”It’s good to see you too, Richie”, Mike chuckles and tightens his grip for a second before gently pushing him off. ”Now how about that beer?”

Richie goes to buy them the first round after refusing to take any of Mike’s money and ushering him to grab them a booth. He doesn’t stress about the beer like he would with Bill, but he does splurge on the slightly more expensive brand instead of what’s on the house - not because Mike would care, but because Mike deserves it.

He goes to join Mike, who thanks him and goes on to tell about his journey to LA, and then about his latest trip in general.

Richie listens intently, making a conscious effort to actually pay attention and not let his mind wander. He has sometimes found it difficult to relate to Mike’s stories, even though he’s visited most of the places Mike’s been so far, because he feels a pang of melancholy when he thinks about his past-self holed into a hotel room with a bottle of whiskey after forcing himself to flirt with people he had no interest in.

”Haven’t you been here?” Mike’d asked once, after describing New Orleans in great detail after Richie’d asked about it.

”Sure I have, but I’m pretty sure I was on a two week long bender so there wasn’t much sightseeing happening”, Richie’d answered nonchalantly, and made a mental note to get Mike to make a list of the best places to revisit.

Mike’s finishing up his story when the waitress comes and ask if they want new beers. Richie sends Mike a hard glare when he tries to get his wallet out, and orders them a new round.

”So, what’s up with you?” Mike asks as they wait for their drinks and Richie waves him off. 

”We can get to my life later, I want to hear more about where you’ve been - and I’m not talking about geographical locations this time”, he says with an exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows. He does want to tell Mike what’s up with him, and has every intention to, but he also knows when he gets going about his life it’s sometimes difficult to put the focus back on other people.

Mike gives him an unimpressed but amused look, so Richie figures he’s okay with being the topic of the conversation for a moment longer. 

”Any special people in your life?” Richie asks, knowing that Mike is too gentlemanly to answer his earlier inquiry. He’s also hoping to make a smooth transition to Eddie, and doing that from ’hey, who you been fucking’ -question feels wrong.

”Yeah, six of them”, Mike answers immediately with a wide smile, completely serious. Richie rolls his eyes and pretends not to feel all warm inside.

”I hope that’s not in your Tinder bio.” Mike laughs, and there’s a lull in the conversation as the waitress comes back.

”Nah, I’m not on Tinder”, Mike says nonchalantly after taking a sip from his drink. ”What would be the point anyway, since I’m not staying in one place for too long?”

”That! That would be the point!” Richie cries out and throws his hands up like Mike’s talking nonsense. ”Dude, you don’t even have to fuck around if you don’t want to, but I can’t imagine the dating scene in Derry was very riveting. I don’t want you to miss out on more stuff because of that shithole of a town, and I think striking up a casual conversation and testing the no-strings-attached dating life during your travels won’t do you any harm in the long run, if you eventually decide to settle down somewhere and try the relationship shit it for real.” 

Richie finishes his oddly passionate and sudden rant with a long chug from his beer, because he doesn’t like feeling sincere and vulnerable in a public setting. He also doesn’t want to meet Mike’s eyes straight away, but when there’s a clink against his bottle a second later he dares to look across the table to find his friends grateful gaze.

”You make a compelling argument”, Mike says and smiles kindly. ”I swear I’m not lonely, but I promise I’ll keep this in mind next time I have free time in my hands."

”I only want you to be happy”, Richie mumbles, not really meaning to. He blushes and takes another sip from his drink. ”But!” he starts immediately after swallowing, wanting to stop the sappy shit. ”Please download Tinder. Wanting your happiness is almost at par with wanting to see the awful literary pick up lines people would come up with. As the only eligible bachelor in the group you have to let me live my tinder fantasy through you”, Richie finishes with a suggestive smirk, and Mike blinks at him.

”The only one, huh?” he asks and waits a beat, clearly waiting for Richie to explain. ”What about -”

”His divorce isn’t finalized yet”, Richie interrupts, eager to move the conversation where he’d originally wanted it to begin with. 

”- you?” Mike finishes and Richie stares at him as his mind runs through what was just said before turning bright red.

”Well, I’m - fuck, yeah, I mean -” he stutters, and it’s really fucking stupid he can’t get a sentence out, his literal job is to talk.

Mike is silent, and his eyes are gentle and understanding as he waits for Richie to get himself together before asking ”So, have you told him yet?”

All the Losers know. Obviously all the Losers know, because Richie is as subtle as a brick to the face, but Mike’s the only one he’s outright admitted it to. Sure, he used to bitch to Stan how Eddie was cute cute cute and he should cut it the fuck out before Richie had a heart attack from all the blood rushing to his dick (Stan never much appreciated their talks), but Mike’s the only one since, well, since. He was there, when Eddie was still in the hospital, and everyone else had disappeared to do whatever they all needed to do. Call their wives or a divorce lawyer, mostly. But Mike was there, when Richie was by Eddie’s bedside, and he’d broken down and just whimpered ”I love him so fucking much” so brokenly that Mike convinced the nurses to let him stay through the night.

They didn’t talk about it afterwards - mostly because Richie was a fucking mess, but also because there was no need to. The next day Mike came in, hugged him, and told him it was okay, resulting in another hug after Richie burst into new tears. 

They didn’t talk about it then, but it seems like they are going to now.

”Mike. You know how I’m a homosexual male.”

”Yes, I do know that”, Mike says with clear amusement.

”And you know how Eddie isn’t”, Richie continues and the amusement turns into confusion.

”No, I do not know that.”

”He has a wife.”

”So did Elton John, Little Richard and Oscar Wilde back in the day. Besides, he is getting a divorce”, Mike points out. ”But all that is actually not the point, and speculation will do us no good. He hasn’t told me about his sexuality, so I don’t know, and neither do you”, he adds with a shrug. ”I didn’t know about you either, by the way. Knowing and suspecting are different things.”

”Pfft, as if you didn't know”, Richie waves his hand in disbelief and Mike frowns.

”I didn’t. Yeah, it made sense in retrospect when you came out, but I couldn’t have known without you telling me. I’d wondered, sure, but I’ve wondered about all of you because you’re my friends and I like thinking about you, and I want you to be happy.” Mike shrugs again as if it’s that simple and Richie has to avert his eyes so he doesn’t see the sudden wetness in them. Mike seems to understand and he reaches out to pat Richie’s arm. ”Don’t worry, I’ve already burned the pros and cons list of what kind of sex I think all of the Losers probably enjoy.”

Richie lets out a surprised snort and Mike grins wide like that was his goal all along.

”Yeah, can’t have people figuring out my preferred horizontal tango is with bitesized feral maniacs”, Richie jokes even though it’s absolutely not a joke, before sighing noisily. ”God, can you stop being so handsome and wise and funny? I can only pine after one Loser at a time and I just renewed Eddie for another 30 years.”

Mike laughs and his eyes wrinkle at the sides and Richie feels a pang of sadness of not having been there to witness when the wrinkles started coming. He doesn’t want to miss out on any more stuff, so he waits a beat for Mike to calm himself while peeling the label off his beer.

”So do you…” Richie starts before stopping to take a large sip from the bottle, trying to figure out how to ask without sounding completely pathetic. He comes up short. ”Uhm, do you think there’s a chance? For, you know, me and him?”

Mike doesn’t answer straight away, and Richie can see him take a sip as he mulls the question over. It’s not as if Mike’s answer really determines anything either way, but it’s a relief when he finally says ”Yes, I do. There’s always a chance.” 

Richie dares to shoot him a grateful smile, and immediately gets caught in Mike’s determined gaze. ”But you won’t know unless you ask him, Richie.”

Richie groans loudly and throws away all the ideas of not being pathetic as he slumps down to bang his head against the table a few times. Mike laughs and reaches out to stop him.

”C’mon now, it’s not that bad”, he says with amusement and Richie sits back up only to glare at him.

”It is that bad Mikey, can’t you see I’m a disaster? I almost had a panic attack when he asked me to accompany him to court, and you expect me to what, talk to him about my feelings?”

Mike still looks amused but there’s an apologetic tilt to it. ”Sorry man. If it makes you feel any better, you’ve always been a disaster, so he should be used to it by now.”

”Ha ha”, Richie deadpans before laughing. ”How should I bring it up?” he asks after a beat, because he’s not above making detailed notes and a script.

”I’m not sure if I can help you with that”, Mike says apologetically. ”Like you said, my experiences in feelings territory have been brief at best.” Now it’s Richies turn to look sorry and Mike immediately dismisses it with a wave of his hand. 

”But I think there’s a certain hot architect who might know a thing or two about how to get a childhood sweetheart”, Mike adds with an easy smile that Richie immediately matches with a wide grin of his own. He’d already talked to all the other Losers about this, so might as well collect the full set. 

”You’re like a wise old tree”, Richie states and clinks their bottles together just because he can.

”Are trees wise?” Mike asks with an arched brow and clinks back.

”That one in Pocahontas was.”

”She was also a cartoon. And the movie is actually quite awful and has a lot of issues, like -”

”Mike”, Richie interrupts. ”It has a cute raccoon, and a talking tree. Let me have this.”

Mike laughs and drops the subject.

~*~*~

It was a week before the court date and a few days after the drinks turned food turned drunk mini golf with Mike that Richie finally had time to call Ben. He had contemplated FaceTiming, but didn’t like the added vulnerability that would bring, and a quick glance at the reflection from the microwave door told him he looked gross anyway, so he decided against subjecting Ben to the horror.

Ben answers after three rings, and Richie doesn’t wait for him to say anything before whooping ”Benny boy!” loudly.

”Oh, hey Rich”, Ben replies, sounding surprised. ”I’m sorry but Bev’s not here right now, should I -”

”What would I need Bev for if I called you, my handsome friend?”

”Oh.” Ben sounds taken aback, and there’s some rustling and Richie’s pretty sure Ben just checked whose phone he’d answered.

It makes Richie feel bad that Ben still thinks his friends wouldn’t want to talk to him specifically, and he once again makes a mental note to make sure that he keeps reminding Ben about his importance as often as possible.

”I need help with that disgusting, romantic stuff, you know, feelings and all that”, Richie explains and goes to sit on his couch, figuring he’d rather be comfortable for this conversation than stare at the his distorted face on a microwave. 

”And you’re asking… me?”

”Who else? My options are two divorcees, one marriage counseling attendee, one who is just discovering the world of dating and one whose idea of a great romantic evening is birdwatching and puzzles”, Richie lists like it should be obvious. ”I’ll give you a second to match the people.” 

Ben snorts.”Okay, okay, I see your point.”

”But, even if I was friends with literally anyone who has their life together I’d still ask you, because you’re the expert! Mr. ’met the love of my life at thirteen and carried her in my heart and my wallet ever since’.”

”Well, I, well, yes”, Ben mumbles, and Richie can tell he’s blushing like crazy. ”So, what do you need help with?” Ben asks after a second and Richie figures he might as well rip the bandaid off and go straight to the point.

”I’m in love with Eddie and I don’t know how to tell him.”

There’s a little startled ’oh’ from the other end of the line, and then nothing else for a moment. It’s very unsurprising that Ben is very unsurprised by Richie’s admission, but it still feels good just saying it out loud. Richie figures Ben, alongside Bill, must have been the last one’s to figure it out. Bill, because he could be very dense and dumb - pure of heart, dumb of ass, Bev had once said, and Richie’d laughed so hard he almost pissed himself. Whereas Ben was probably too busy making love-eyes at Bev to notice, but when all that finally got sorted into his favour he probably figured it out quite soon - was it by himself or with Bev’s assistance, Richie didn’t know.

What he does know is that when Ben says ”Just tell him that - that you love him” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world Richie realizes Bill is not the only pure of heart, dumb of ass in the group.

”I can’t just tell him I love him”, he groans and resists the urge to press his face into a pillow.

”I told Bev pretty much immediately”, Ben points out unhelpfully. ”After It, I mean.”

”Yeah but that’s different, it was obvious and -” Richie starts and Ben snorts.

”Well, I mean…”

”Shut up”, Richie grunts out and this time does let himself press his face into the pillow as Ben snickers in his ear. At least that solved the mystery if Ben had figured it out without Bev’s help. Richie waits until Ben’s silent again, and then a beat more before sighing dramatically.

”I don’t even know if I want to tell him I love him, but I do want to tell him he’s loved, you know?” Ben makes an agreeable humming sound but doesn’t say anything, so Richie continues. ”I’m going to the court with him next week, and he’ll walk out of there a single man and I want him to know he deserves the fucking world even if he doesn’t want me to be the one to give it to him. I want him to know that even if so far he’s been loved in multiple shitty ways, it doesn’t mean that’s always going to be the case and he deserves to be loved right, even if it’s by someone else too. But I also want to be selfish and tell him I’m an option, and I’ve always been an option and I will always continue being an option, because there’s nothing he could do that would make me not love him anymore, because he’s my favorite person, so.”

Richie feels awkward and laid open, and a little embarrassed and unsure if he made much sense, but he also meant every word so he trusts that Ben will be able to put together his ramblings.

Apparently he is, because a moment later there’s a sniffle and Ben says ”Richie”, in such a touched tone that Richie feels his face heat up.

”So, any tips for me?” he asks clumsily when Ben doesn’t say anything more.

”Well”, Ben starts after another sniffle. ”I still think you should just tell him, but I understand how that’s difficult. But I’m also not sure how else you’d be able to tell him how loved and appreciated he is without telling him exactly that, unfortunately.”

Richie knows he’s right, but he’d hoped Ben would have had some kind of an easy answer, a password or a riddle or something that would have done all the heavy lifting for him.

”Just be open, and honest, and make sure he knows you’re being honest. Don’t make it into a joke or you’ll end up hurting both of your feelings”, Ben warns. ”But also don’t sell yourself short. You said you wanted to be selfish like it’s a bad thing, and Richie, I need you to know that wanting to be loved in return is not a bad thing”, he continues very slowly, like he’s making sure Richie is listening. He is, and also trying not to cry. ”I understand why you’ve put Eddie and his happiness on a pedestal - believe me I do, because I’ve built Bev her own - but you also have to think about your own happiness.”

”Fuck”, Richie mutters wetly and Ben hums.

”Yeah, fuck indeed. It’s scary, but it’s worth it, and I’m really proud of you, Richie.”

”Fucking shitballs, stop being sweet”, Richie says through another set of tears and this time Ben laughs.

”I’m sorry buddy, I just love love”, he apologizes and Richie snorts.

”Understatement of the century my guy.” He reaches over to grab a napkin from an old takeaway bag, and wipes his face before blowing his nose. He can hear Ben doing something similar in the background, and it makes him feel better knowing he’s not the only crybaby of the group.

”Thank you”, Richie says after he’s sure his voice won’t crack. There’s no need to specify what he’s thanking him for, and he can hear the smile in Ben’s voice as he replies with ”Anytime Rich.”

”Okay, enough crying”, Richie suddenly says louder than necessary, wanting to not feel so exposed anymore. ”Now tell me, what’s happening with you?”

”Well, I bought an engagement ring today”, Ben replies bashfully and Richie chokes on nothing.

”What the fuck Ben! And you let me go on about Eddie for forever without saying anything?”

”I mean you confessing to him is a big deal, I didn’t want to -”

”What, and you getting fucking engaged to January embers isn’t?” Richie shoots back incredulously.

”We’re not - I’m not - I haven’t asked yet.”

”She’s gonna say yes”, Richie points out, and Ben is very quiet very loudly. ”Ben, you know she’s gonna say yes, right?”

”Right.”

”Ben…”

”Yeah, I know, honestly I know”, Ben says, and Richie can hear he means it which makes him feel relieved. ”It’s just that she’s Bev, you know?”

”Yeah, exactly. She’s Bev, and she loves you fucking ridiculous amount. I’m honestly surprised that she hasn’t popped the question yet herself to be completely honest.”

”It’s only been few months”, Ben points out, but Richie can tell he’s talking through a fond smile.

”Yeah, and years”, Richie argues back. ”She’s a woman of action Benny, so I’m pretty sure the fact she hasn’t asked you is even further proof that she loves you, since she must know it means a lot to you.”

”Yeah, okay”, Ben agrees after a moment. ”You’re right, it’ll be fine.”

”I’m always right, it will be fine.”

”For you too Richie”, Ben says and Richie snorts.

”I feel like if I don’t stop this now, we’ll be spending the rest of the day reassuring each other back and forth.”

Ben laughs. ”Yeah, good point. But I just wanna say I’m glad you called, and I feel honored you wanted my help with this.” He sounds so earnest that Richie swallows down the groan that was about to slip out.

”Well, like I said, who else would I have asked? Anyway, I’ll let you go plan the dream proposal to your dream girl. Tell her I said hey and I got dips on being the made of honor!”

Ben lets out a surprised bark of laughter. ”While I do that you should also plan how to get your dream guy”, he teases and this time Richie doesn’t suppress the groan. But he agrees and they say their goodbyes, and once they’ve hung up he stands up to walk to the kitchen to and stare at himself on the microwave.

His reflection is still distorted, but much like the thoughts in his mind, he feels like it’s all coming together.

~*~*~

Two days before Eddie’s court date Richie’s phone rings. He just got off the plane, landing in LaGuardia with nothing but his backpack since his New York apartment should be adequately packed. He’d bought it while sitting in the Derry hospital, going slightly insane with the beeping of Eddie’s life-support. At the time it had seemed like the only logical solution to the ’I just got him back I can’t lose him again’ -issue was to buy the first okayish apartment he found fully furnished on sale in central New York, and claim he’d had it for years. Richie’s pretty sure at least Stan has figured it out, but as long as Eddie doesn’t question why he’s in the city almost once a week, it’s fine.

Richie answers the phone, about to start his weekly changing regular answer mantra - this week it’s ’Hello, you’ve reached the hot single in your area who likes to fuck, how can I help?’, but he doesn’t get further than the greeting before Eddie interrupts.

”Can you drive me?”

”Drive you? Eds, don’t you own a driving company?” Richie asks, slightly distracted with trying to find his way out of the terminal.

”Well, yeah, but… You don’t have to”, Eddie answers, sounding defensive and Richie can’t have that.

”No, I will, sure”, he says quickly. ”I just figured you’d have plenty of other people who could drive, or you could just drive yourself or -”

”Look, dipshit, I’m not about to use my position of power over my employees like that”, Eddie argues immediately. ”And do you even know how dangerous driving when stressed is, or should I get into another fucking accident?”

”No, please don’t”, Richie hurries to say. Injured Eddie has always and will always be a sore subject. ”Sorry, I just wanted to know what your plan was in case I couldn’t do it.”

”I would have taken an Uber - I will take an Uber, fuck, you don’t have to -”

”No, you’re not going to take a fucking Uber Eddie, what the fuck, I would love nothing more than to drive your neurotic little ass to the courthouse to finalize you divorce with your mother-wife.” Richie puts on a fake exaggerated voice to mask how he actually would love nothing more than to do just that.

”I fucking hate you and thank you”, Eddie replies, sounding both grateful and pissed off. 

Eddie says something more, but Richie is briefly distracted with a group of Japanese tourists to catch what it was, but he tunes back in when he’s finally outside, heading straight to the taxi line.

”I have to be there 10:15, Richie”, Eddie is saying. ”That means 10:15, not 10:30 or 10:45 or even 10:16.”

”I know how the concept of time works”, Richie points out. He mouths ’sorry’ to the driver who doesn’t even bat an eye that Richie’s on the phone, and just waits until Richie’s gives him a business card that has the address of the apartment.

”Ten fifteen, Richie”, Eddie orders and Richie rolls his eyes, wondering if he should egg Eddie on or give him some slack. He decides on the latter, figuring Eddie’s probably under enough stress.

”I’m not going to be late, Jesus would you chill”, he says, and the resulting groan proves the stress theory.

”No, Richie”, Eddie starts, sounding exhausted. ”I won’t chill, because if I’m not there in time she will come up with something to postpone the whole thing even more, and I should have been out of this marriage before I even fucking met her.”

He sounds exhausted and Richie can clearly picture the karate chop hand that must have accompanied the little rant. 

”Yeah, Eds”, Richie says, and it comes out uncharacteristically gentle. ”I know, and I promise you I won’t be late.”

~*~

Richie wasn’t late - he was an hour early. A part of him had wished Eddie would open the door all disheveled and groggy with bed hair, but a bigger part of him was very thankful that that was a very unlikely picture, and he only feels a pang of sadness when Eddie opens the door already wearing a suit.

Eddie stares at him with a confused expression before glancing at his watch, back to Richie, back at his watch, and finally back to Richie again as he reaches forward and pinches his arm.

”Hey! What the fuck Spaghetti?”

”Oh”, Eddie says, sounding honestly taken aback. ”It’s really you. I didn’t expect you for at least another hour.”

Richie gives Eddie an unimpressed glare and rubs at the part where he pinched. It doesn’t really hurt, but he also needs something to do so he won’t reach forward and do something stupid like touch Eddie all over. His brain can only manage a few hours of functioning per day, and it’s way too early for him to be able restrain himself when Eddie’s right there.

”I told you I wouldn’t be late”, Richie points out and Eddie just slowly arches his brow.

”Well, yeah, but I assumed you’d be, and with good reason”, he says, like his distrust is completely justified. ”So I gave you a time that already included twenty minutes leeway.”

”Rude, unfair and uncalled for, I bet you feel real dumb right.”

”Richie, you were two hours late to your own birthday party.”

”That’s because I’m not important - and also, I was fifteen!” Richie shoots back and immediately realizes it to be a some kind of a mistake when Eddie’s brow furrows.

”You don’t really think that do you?” he asks, and Richie’s just blinks back in confusion.

”Did I misremember the year? Was I fourteen? No, I’m pretty sure -”

”No you moron, not that”, Eddie interrupts sounding exasperated like Richie’s being obtuse on purpose. ”The first part - you don’t really think you’re not important, do you?”

Richie shoves his hands in his pockets and shrugs, averting his eyes. ”Well, like I said. I was fifteen. Who knows what I was going through, but I would like to think I’ve matured some in 25 years”, he says dismissively with another shrug, but Eddie still looks unhappy.

”That’s debatable, but also you said you’re not, not that you weren’t”, he argues back, not that Richie didn’t think he wouldn’t. Richie doesn’t answer, but Eddie clearly has something more to say as he does his very best to catch Richie’s gaze. 

”Richie”, he finally pleads and Richie hates that, because Eddie doesn’t plead and he shouldn’t, ever, so he finally meets his stare. Eddie looks at him for a second before saying in a very stern, yet soft voice ”Please tell me you know you’re important.”

Richie doesn’t answer straight away, but Eddie seems to find the answer in his eyes well enough. Richie doesn’t want him to worry, because it’s not as if he doesn’t think he’s important, it’s just that usually other people are more important. That feels like a lot to unpack on Eddie’s doorstep though, on the day of his divorce no less, so Richie just puts on his most convincing smile and says ”Like I said, I’ve matured some, it’s a work in progress. But I promise that whatever fancy ass party you’ll be throwing in the honor of my next year around the sun, I will show up on time and suited up.”

Eddie doesn’t look fully convinced, but he also surprisingly seems to understand Richie doesn’t want to talk about it.

”I’m not throwing you a fucking birthday party Richie, people in their forties don’t -” he starts, the karate hand coming up before it suddenly stops midair and he stares at where it’s pointing at Richie’s chest. ”Wait, why are you wearing a suit now?” he asks slowly, clearly suspicious.

”Bev talked me down from wearing a wedding dress”, Richie explains happily, thankful for the topic change. Eddie blinks, face falling in obvious surprise. He stares at Richie’s chest for a moment longer than maybe necessary, and Richie thinks - hopes, he doesn’t imagine the bit of a blush forming on his cheeks, but he can’t be sure because Eddie suddenly turns around and heads back in. 

”I don’t want to know”, he shoots over his shoulder and Richie grins.

~*~

”You can’t come inside”, Eddie says the second Richie’s parked and unlocked his seatbelt.

”What? Why?” Richie asks and turns to look at Eddie with confusion.

”Richie, it’s a courthouse”, Eddie sighs in response. ”You would make a stupid joke and accidentally confess to a crime you haven’t committed.”

”You don’t know what crimes I’ve done”, Richie points out, feeling slightly offended even if Eddie’s opinion is completely justified. 

Eddie shoots his hands up in frustration. ”And that’s why you can’t come! You can’t say shit like that in there, shit-for-brains.”

”Well how the fuck can I be your moral support out here, piss-for-blood?”

”Piss-for-what, what the fuck kind of an insult is that?” Eddie looks genuinely baffled, the squabble briefly forgotten.

”Devastating kind”, Richie replies with a smirk before straightening himself up. ”Eds, you asked me to come and for what - to be your chauffeur?”

”That’s a big word.”

”Eddie”, Richie groans.

”Okay, fine”, Eddie mumbles before glancing at the clock and sighing - Richie’d made sure they were early, so there’s still time before the hearing, so Eddie can’t even escape the conversation.

”You’re not here as a chauffeur, you’re here as my best friend and my…” Eddie cuts himself off and stares intently at his hands. ”Well, you said moral support, so that, I think.” There’s a frown on Eddie’s face like it’s not quite correct, but Richie doesn’t think now is the time to open that particular can of worms. ”And I’m glad you’re here, I really am, but I need to…” Eddie continues before quieting down again, turning his eyes to the court. ”I need to do this alone”, he finishes rather lamely, but turns to face Richie again and there’s apologetic but fierce expression on his face.

Richie’s eyes soften. ”Eddie, you have nothing to prove to anyone.”

”I have something to prove to myself, Richie”, Eddie disagrees firmly, and Richie looks at him for a moment before nodding.

He gets where Eddie’s coming from, he really does. Even if it sucks not to be able to be there, he understand why Eddie feels the need to do it by himself. His life has always been other people doing things for him, either literally or for his benefit, and this is the first real thing he’s doing for himself in a very long time, so it makes sense he wants to be able to do it by himself as well.

Richie says as much to Eddie, just with less grace and more mumbled words, but Eddie’s grateful smile tells him his point got across. It makes Richie feel all sappy and warm inside so he panic grabs the door handle. Eddie immediately notices.

”Where are you going?”

”Well, I’m not coming inside, but I’m also not staying in the car”, Richie replies, opens the door and fumbles outside. ”Have you not seen the infomercial about not leaving your kid - or worse, your dog in a hot car?” he asks, turning to glance at Eddie who’s still fully seated with the seatbelt buckled and everything, just staring at him with the classic ’you’ve lost your mind’ -look.

”You’re a full grown adult man”, he says slowly and Richie pffts with a wave of his hand.

”The principle still stands.”

”I don’t think it does”, Eddie argues, and glances at the clock again - and, subsequently, the temperature next to it. ”Also it’s October, and it’s currently 55 degrees”, he continues while finally unbuckling, sounding delightfully pissed off at Richie’s antics.

”Tomato, potahto”, Richie singsongs and closes the door as Eddie’s getting out of his.

They walk the short distance to the courthouse, and the whole way there Eddie’s karate chopping the air and bitching at Richie for apparently now having gotten the old Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong song stuck in his head, even though Richie hadn’t even sang it correctly. Richie indulges him, and his smile only gets wider as Eddie’s frown gets deeper the closer to the entrance they get.

Finally, after climbing too many steps and reaching the door, Eddie’s hand shoots out to slam at Richie’s chest.

”Where are you going?” he hisses, and it’s very clearly not a question but Richie answers anyway.

”I was wondering how far you’d let me go.” Richie smirks and raises his hands with a laugh when Eddie looks about ready to shove him down the very steps they just climbed. ”There’s a bench right there, you deranged little gremlin, I’ll wait for you there.”

”I’m not little, I’m fucking five seven you fucking dickhead”, Eddie hisses and a moment later Richie finds himself laughing alone while making his way to the bench, after Eddie’d closed the door on his face.

~*~

Richie’s getting his ass handed to him in Words With Friends by Mike - which seems correct, and Richie can’t blame anyone but himself for challenging a librarian to a word game - when he hears the court doors opening and someone swearing like it’s going out of style.

He immediately closes the app, figuring Mike’s already won with cochlear anyway, and stands up. Predictably Eddie is standing outside the door. His eyes are closed and he’s clearly doing breathing exercises, so obviously Richie walks over as quietly as he can and pokes him on the side.

Eddie jumps with a shout and his hands come up impressively fast to grab at Richie’s arm.

”Richie! I could have fucking died!” he yells the moment his eyes land on Richie, who is cackling like a maniac.

”I’m sorry dude, but that was way too fucking easy.”

Eddie glares at him and smacks him on the arm for good measure, before groaning loudly and taking few steps away from the doorway. Richie lets him go, deciding against being an asshole so Eddie can get his mind in order. He figures the hearing is over, because it seems unlikely that Eddie would have paused it just to come outside and swear, when he’s never had a problem with sounding like a sailor wherever he is and whoever is present.

”So, how did it go? You a free man now Spaghetti?” Richie asks after a moment that feel appropriately long, walking over to join Eddie on top of the steps.

”Don’t call me that”, Eddie spits out with a glare. ”But yeah, I am. Fucking finally”, he adds and some of the tension seems to leave his body, before his shoulders immediately tense back up in a sudden burst of anger.

”But it was fucking stupid, she tried to guilt me into calling the whole thing off and I had to yell ’what part of I’m gay don’t you understand’ only for her to then start wailing how she should get more in the divorce on the grounds of being lied to!”

Loud white noise machine has gone off in Richie’s mind. He stares at Eddie, absolutely dumbfounded and rooted on the spot.

”You’re… gay?”

”Oh, have I not said?” Eddie asks very false casual.

”No, you have not”, Richie says calmly, trying very hard not to let any emotion show in his voice. Apparently that was not the right call, because Eddie goes tense and turns to look at him slowly with reserved eyes.

”Is that a… is that a problem?”

”Yes!” Richie shouts out - so much for repressing his emotions. He immediately realizes his mistake when Eddie’s eyes widen. ”I mean no, obviously it’s not a problem, not the gay part at least but the - dude, you told your wife before me?” he explains a tad too loudly, sounding way too hurt for the situation, and realizes how insane that sentence sounds right after.

”Ex-wife, now, and I didn’t mean to tell her, I didn’t want to tell her at all, but she wouldn’t shut up and -”

”Wait”, Richie interrupts, Eddie’s earlier words finally catching up. ”Did you think I’d have a problem with the gay thing?”

”I mean, you did yell yes really loudly.”

”Eddie! I’m gay! I’ve already told you!”

”I know!” Eddie shouts back, sounding equally frustrated. ”But I was on so many drugs dude, I couldn’t figure out what was real and what wasn’t so I didn’t really believe you”, he explains, and glares daggers at Richie instantly when he tries to open his mouth. ”You’re always such an asshole with the way you talk, I didn’t know if you were joking!” 

Eddie sounds so genuinely pissed off that Richie can’t help but snort loudly, failing to hold in the resulting cackle of relieved laughter. This only fuels Eddie’s fire and his karate hand comes up. 

”Stop fucking laughing at me dickhead! It’s not my fucking fault! You’ve always talked such fucking shit I figured it was another one of your bits. Stop fucking laughing it’s not funny!”

”It’s really fucking funny”, Richie says in between fits of giggles. ”I can’t believe I told you I’m gay and you didn’t believe me - dude everyone knew.”

”I was on drugs!” Eddie screeches loudest so far, clearly not caring that they’ve barely walked away from the court doors.

Richie can’t stop laughing, his shoulders shaking with it and breath coming in short from the lack of oxygen. His stomach hurts and he has to lean down to try and stop the hysteria before he ends up peeing himself.

”Fucking whatever, you fucking asshole, I was going to celebrate my fucking divorce with you but forget about it, I will just -” Eddie mumbles after Richie’s calmed down enough to straighten himself back up. Eddie glares at him before starting to go down the stairs, feet stomping aggressively.

”Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, fuck, wait!” Richie quickly shouts after him and goes to follow.

”Fucking what, Richie?” Eddie doesn’t stop, but he does slow down and glance back to see Richie following him.

”Go out with me.”

This time Eddie stops instantly.

”What?”

”Go out with me”, Richie repeats. The first one was accidental, but this one is very purposeful. ”On a date. Right now.”

”I - what?” Eddie stares at him like Richie’s lost his damn mind, and he does feel like that’s very true, but the wheels are already in motion and Richie is nothing if not dedicated to see the situation through.

”I want to date you so fucking hard you don’t even know, and you literally just told me you were going to celebrate with me anyway so -”

”What the fuck Richie!” Eddie screeches once again. ”I just got divorced, why didn’t you say something before!”

”When you were… married?” Richie clarifies, very confused now.

”Yes!” Eddie yells like it’s obvious. It isn’t.

”You wanted me to ask you out while you were married?” Richie asks, because it doesn’t really make sense but there’s not much else that Eddie can mean.

”Obviously!” Eddie confirms a second later, shooting his hands up in frustration. ”Do you know how fucking long a divorce takes?”

”Well this one took two months, so not that long”, Richie points out which is very clearly the wrong thing to say.

”Two months we could have spend going on dates and making out!” Eddie yells. ”God, I can’t fucking believe you!”

”You could have said something!” Richie argues back.

”I was married!” Eddie screams.

”Exactly!”

Eddie doesn’t say anything to that, not with words anyway. He huffs loudly, and his chest heaves in angry breaths as his eyes throw daggers at Richie, who suddenly realizes this is all very ridiculous and not at all how it was supposed to go, while simultaneously so obviously being the only way it could have gone.

”Eds”, he starts, and completely ignores the warning flash in Eddie’s eyes at the nickname. ”I love you.”

Eddie’s face grumbles. ”And you didn’t tell me?” he asks in a slightly broken voice, but Richie’s pretty sure there’s an ounce of hopefulness underneath it.

”In my defense, I did it the first chance I got”, Richie points out. He sees Eddie’s about to disagree, so he quickly adds ”I didn’t want to be a home wrecker.”

”Richie”, Eddie sighs, the fight obviously having left him as quickly as it arrived. He doesn’t move his gaze away as he takes a few steps, climbing the remaining steps between them until he’s standing on one lower to where Richie is. 

It’s somehow too close and not close enough, and Richie thinks he’s about to faint when Eddie slowly reaches forward to take his hand. 

”You were a home wrecker wether you would have kissed me the minute you saw me or not. Fucking obviously I got a divorce because of you, because I love you.”

Eddie’s voice is calm and confident, and Richie feel the exact opposite. His eyes water up and he’s squeezing Eddie’s hand so hard it must hurt, but Eddie squeezes back just as tight so it seems like it’s something they both need. 

”Eds”, he starts and then stops when the word comes out shaky.

”Don’t call me that”, Eddie replies instantly, but it sounds like it’s more out of habit than anything else, and Richie never wants him to break that habit. He wants to say as much, but he gets as far as ”Eddie”, before having to stop again.

Eddie just smiles at him, and says ”Yeah, I know”, and before Richie can ask what exactly does he know, his hand is let go and his face is being held instead. Eddie meets his eyes as if looking for some kind of a confirmation, and Richie seems to give it to him, because Eddie smiles, goes on his tippy toes and pulls Richie in for a kiss.

The angle is very awkward, their height difference only increased by Eddie standing on a step lower to him, but absolutely none of that matter, and Richie lets out a whimper the moment their lips touch. Eddie hums in response and sweeps his thumb over Richie’s cheekbone like he’s grounding him, but instead the gesture immediately breaks down whatever wall Richie still had up.

With another desperate noise he wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, bringing their bodies together and squeezing Eddie so tight his feet leave the ground. Eddie lets out a surprised laugh against Richie’s lips, who hopes it’s in response to his enthusiasm and not for his kissing technique - or possible lack of it, Richie doesn’t know. He doesn’t know if he’s any good at kissing, because asking for feedback is tacky, but also because he’s absolutely never kissed anyone like he’s kissing Eddie now. He feels like he’s going crazy with it, and even crazier about the fact that Eddie is kissing him back.

That is, until Richie goes all in with trying to hoist Eddie up so they can be on a better level with each other, and Eddie pushes his face away with a laugh when Richie tries to nibble on his bottom lip.

”Put me down you caveman”, he groans, and it’s in no way convincing, but it’s still effective because holding Eddie up is taking at least some of the brain power Richie could be using to memorize the feel of their mouths together.

Richie still lets out a pathetic little whine and leans down to press his face against Eddie’s neck to inhale his scent, and mumble ”Please tell me we can do that again”, against it as he gently lowers him back on the step.

Eddie snorts and pinches the place where Richie’s neck meets his shoulder. ”We can do that again right now as long as we switch places.”

Richie raises his head grudgingly when Eddie starts to move, but his frown turns happy when he realizes Eddie’s not going anywhere, only taking two steps up so they are almost on eye level. Eddie leans in to give him a peck before leaning back to give him a satisfied, smug smile.

”That’s better, isn’t it?”

Richie should say ’yes it absolutely is’ or ’I don’t know, I think we should try it again’ or just not say anything and do it again.

He absolutely should not say ”Does this mean I have to bring a step stool with me anytime I want to make out with you?”

Eddie blinks at him, clearly surprised that Richie went from broken sentences and whines and whimpers to a intelligible question, before the actual words register and his eyes turn furious. ”I’m fucking five seven! I don’t need a step stool, fuck you!”

”You’re literally a step higher than me right now”, Richie points out, because he is nothing if not dedicated to being an idiot.

”I am, but certainly no longer for kissing when I now realize strangling is so much easier from here”, Eddie hisses out, and Richie is both very in love and slightly turned on when Eddie’s hands move over to graze his neck very, very slightly.

”I don’t think strangling is the best option here”, Richie says very conversationally, and leans slightly forward. Eddie makes a questioning noise, but his attention has moved back on Richie’s lips. They are very close.

”No, if you hate the stool you should just cut my legs from knees down for the same effect”, Richie explains with a smirk.

”You’re the fucking worst”, Eddie groans loudly. ”I love you so much.”

The last part is added almost as an accidental afterthought, and Eddie looks both irritated and pleased about it. Richie wonders how soon is too soon to get married after someone’s divorce - the courthouse is right there.

But then he thinks about his friends, and how every Loser had a part in this moment, and how he wants them to be a part of all the other major future moments too, and he swallows down the proposal. 

Instead he leans in to kiss Eddie, smiling wide as Eddie makes a pleased noise, and murmurs against his lips ”Yeah, that sounds about right.”