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Chapter Text

Richard Tozier started his day more peaceful than usual. He awoke gently, barely registering that the time on his clock read 12:00. He blinked, then blinked again, then swore as he grabbed his phone and realised the time.

He was so fucking late.

Richie raced to get dressed, sprinting out of his apartment to the coffee shop opposite his building and swearing again when he saw the queue.

“Richie?” Someone called.

“Yeah?” He looked up, and saw the barista at the counter holding up two cups and smiling at him.

“Your regular lattes,” she smiled.

Richie grinned and jogged towards the front of the queue. “Patty, you are a real lifesaver. I love you dearly. Remind me to tip you 1000% tomorrow when I’m not monumentally late.”

“Yeah yeah Trashmouth, get out of my shop,” Patty grinned back.

Clutching his cups, Richie ran across the road and into his office building, squeezing into an elevator and only narrowly avoiding spilling his drinks.

“Phew, everyone okay?” He asked.

No one answered.

He simply nodded. “Me too.”

The doors closed.

“Cutting it close,” Mike said as Richie strode past his cubicle.

He shook his head. “One of those mornings. Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

He tried to throw Mike an exasperated look, and instead slammed into someone wheeling a cart full of manuscripts, covering them both with coffee.

Fuck.

“Mike, I need the shirt off your back. Literally.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Yankees, Boston, this Tuesday, two company seats for your shirt. You have five seconds to decide. Five, four, three, two, one.”

Just then a message popped through on Mike’s computer - “it’s here!”

He shuddered, and started loosening his tie.

Edward Kaspbrak started his day the way he always did; reading a manuscript as he ran on his Peloton, eating a bowl of bran as fast as he could without choking, and calling mediocre authors to get their scripts on his desk and their books flying off the shelves.

“Hello, Frank? How’s my favourite writer?” He asked, walking to the office. “Frank, people in this country are busy, broke, and they hate to read. They need someone they trust to say “Hey! Don’t watch CSI: Indianapolis tonight. Read a book! Read Frank’s book!” And that person is Oprah.”

He rolled his eyes as Frank made his excuses over the phone.

“Frank, the truth is all A-plus novelists do publicity. And do you know what they all get from that publicity? A Pulitzer.”

He hung up in the elevator. Fucking Frank.

Making his way through the office, he tried to ignore the fact that everyone went silent when he arrived. It bothered him at first, when he tried to make an effort, but now he just breezed past, pretending he was texting someone as he made his way to his office.

Richie was waiting there for him, wearing Mike’s shirt and tie and praying that Eddie wouldn’t notice. “Morning, boss. You have a conference call in 30 minutes.”

Eddie took his coffee without looking. “Yes. About the marketing of the spring books. I know.”

“Staff meeting at 9:00.”

“Did you call-” Eddie stopped. Ugh. What was her name? The one with the gross hands. Eddie hated shaking hands at the best of times, but this woman looked like she hadn’t washed hers in thirty years.

“Janet?” Richie supplied.

“Yes, Janet.”

“Yes I did, and I told her if she didn’t get her manuscript in on time, you won’t give her a release date.”

Eddie took a sip of his coffee to hide the smile threatening his lip. He really did like Richie. He was good at his job.

Richie pretended not to notice, and carried on. “Also, your lawyer called. He said that it’s imperative-”

“Cancel the call, push the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets. Oh, and get a hold of PR and tell them to start drafting a press release. Frank is doing Oprah.”

“Wow, Eds, nicely done,” Richie grinned.

“If I want your praise, I will ask for it. And that’s not my name.”

Eddie picked up his coffee again, noticing for the first time the name.

“Um, who is Trashmouth, and why do I have his cup?”

Richie froze. “Well, that was originally my cup.”

“And I’m drinking your coffee, why?”

“Because your coffee spilled.”

Eddie nodded and took another sip as Richie looked at him awkwardly.

“So, you drink unsweetened cinnamon light soy lattes?” Eddie asked.

“I do. It’s like Christmas in a cup.”

“You’re Jewish. Is that a coincidence?”

“Incredibly, it is. I mean I wouldn’t possibly drink the same coffee that you drink just in case yours spilled. That would be, uh, pathetic. And Jews are allowed to enjoy Christmas and its associated flavours.”

Richie was glad when the office phone rang. It gave him a reason to stop talking.

“Edward Kaspbrak speaking. Hey, Bob.” Eddie looked at him and raised his eyebrows, standing up. “Actually, we’re headed to your office right now. Yeah.”

He put down the phone.

“Why are we headed to Bob’s office?”

Eddie only tsked in response.

“Did you get a chance to read the manuscript I sent you?” Richie asked as they made their way across the office floor.

“Uh, I read a few pages. I wasn’t that impressed.”

“Can I say something?”

“No.”

“I’ve read thousands of manuscripts, this is the only one I’ve ever given you. There’s an incredible novel in there Eds. The kind of novel you used to publish.”

“Uh, wrong. And I do think you order the same coffee as I do just in case you spill which is, in fact, pathetic.”

“Or impressive,” Richie wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’d be impressed if you didn’t spill it in the first place,” Eddie shot back.

“You wound me, Eds.”

Richie opened the door to Bob’s office as Eddie cleared his throat and tried to plaster on a smile.

“Ah!” Exclaimed Bob. “Our fearless leader and his liege. Please, do come in!”

Richie faked a bow, ignoring whatever small talk Eddie was making about Bob’s cabinet.

He only snapped back to attention when he heard Eddie say “Bob, I’m letting you go.”

Oh shit. This was going to be messy.

See, the people in this office, they hated Eddie. Hated him. Richie understood why they hated him - he was bad tempered, scary, he wasn’t afraid to call you out for shitty work or behaviour, but Richie never hated him.

As his assistant, Richie saw a side of Eddie that no one else in the office did. The Eddie that quotes ‘south park’ after a few too many drinks on a staff holiday night out, the Eddie that gives Richie his umbrella when it’s raining because “I have a hood, and I don’t want you making my office smell like wet dog, dumbass”, the Eddie that cracks jokes and ribs with him. The humour is there, it’s just subtle. There’s a softness there too. It’s just that no one else pays attention.

Bob looked at Richie, who looked at Eddie, who looked right back at Bob.

“Pardon?”

“I’ve asked you over a dozen times to get Frank to do Oprah, and you didn’t do it. You’re fired.”

Richie shut the door to Bob’s office.

Bob huffed and removed his glasses.

“I have told you that is impossible. Frank hasn’t done an interview in 20 years.”

“Well that is interesting, because I just got off the phone with him, and he’s in.”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t even call him, did you?”

“But-”

“I know, I know. Frank can be a little scary to deal with. For you. Now, I will give you two months to find another job, and then you can tell everyone you resigned, okay?”

Eddie flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and left Bob’s office, Richie trailing behind.

“What’s his twenty?”

Richie looked back. “Uhh, he’s moving. He has crazy eyes.”

Eddie shook his head as they walked, whispering “don’t do it Bob. Don’t do it.”

Bob stormed out of his office, furiously pointing at Eddie. “You poisonous bitch!”

Everyone around them gasped and fell into silence.

“You can’t fire me! You think I don’t know what you’re doing here? Sandbagging me on this Oprah thing just so you can look good to the board? Because you are threatened by me! And you are a monster!”

“Bob, stop,” Eddie warned coolly.

“It’s just because you have no semblance of a life outside of this office, you think that you can treat all of us like your own personal slaves! You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you’re gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one!”

Richie had closed his eyes the second Bob left his office, and now he opened them only to look at the floor as Eddie took a deep breath beside him and stepped forward a few paces.

“Listen carefully, Bob,” he started. “I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened. No. I fired you because you’re lazy, entitled, incompetent, and you spend more time cheating on your wife than you do in this office. And if you say another word, Richard here is gonna have you thrown out on your ass, okay?”

Bob pointed at him and opened his mouth but Eddie interrupted.

“Another word and you are going out of here with an armed escort. Richie will film it with his little camera phone and he will put it on that internet site - what was it?”

“Youtube,” Richie replied.

“Exactly. Is that what you want?”

Bob only looked at him.

“Exactly. Now, I have work to do.”

With that, Eddie turned and marched back to his office, once again ignoring the whispers that followed him.

Richie had to jog slightly to catch up to him.

“I need you around this weekend to help review his files and his manuscripts.”

“This weekend?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“No. I… just my ma’s 60th birthday, so I was gonna go home, it’s fine, I’ll cancel it. You’re actually saving me from a weekend of misery anyway, so it’s… yeah, good talk, yeah.”

He sighed, pulled out his phone, and called Maggie.

Chapter Text

Eddie came back 10 minutes later as Richie was finishing up his call.

“Is that your family?”

“Yep.”

“They tell you to quit?”

“Every single day.”

Eddie tried to suppress another smile as Richie’s phone rang again.

“Bergen and Malloy want to see you upstairs immediately.”

Eddie groaned loudly.

“Okay. Come get me in 10 minutes. We got a lot of work to do.”

“Okey-doke boss.”

Eddie paused. “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry about this. If we get everything done this weekend you can have next week off to go see your mom. I know it’s not the same, but we really need to get this sorted.”

He walked away without waiting for a reply.

Eddie forced a smile as he entered the office. “Jack, Edwin,” he nodded.

“Edward,” Jack nodded back. “Congratulations on the Oprah thing, that’s terrific news.”

“Thank you, thank you. This isn’t about my second raise, is it?” He forced a laugh. God, he hates small talk.

Thankfully, Edwin cut straight to the point.

“Edward, do you remember when we agreed that you wouldn’t go to the Frankfurt book fair, because you weren’t allowed out of the country while your visa application was being processed?”

“Yes I do.”

“And… you went to Frankfurt.”

“Yes, I did. We were going to lose DeLillo to Viking. So, I didn't really have a choice, did I?”

“Well it seems the United States Government doesn’t care much who published Don DeLillo. We, uh, just spoke to your immigration attourney.”

“Great, so we’re all good? Everything good?”

“Edward, your visa application has been denied.”

“Wha? That-” Eddie stuttered.

“You are being deported,” Jack interrupted.

“Deported?”

“Apparently, there was also some paperwork that you didn’t fill out in time.”

“C’mon!”

“We can reapply, but you have to leave the country,” Edwin paused, “for at least a year.”

Eddie sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and counting to five in his head. “Okay. Okay well that’s uh, not ideal but, I can manage everything from Toronto. Y’know, video conferencing, and, uh, internet, y’know I can-”.

“Unfortunately, Edward, if you’re deported, you can’t work for an American company.”

“Until this is resolved, I’m gonna turn operations over to Bob Spaulding.”

“Bob Spaulding? The guy I just fired?”

“We need an editor in chief, he is the only person in the building who has enough experience.”

“You cannot be serious-”

“Edward, we are desperate to have you stay. If there was any way, any way at all that we could make this thing work, we would be doing it.”

“Actually uh,” Eddie floundered. He had to think of something, and fast, if only to buy him a few extra days to get his visa sorted. A knock on the door interrupted his train of thought.

Richie popped his head through.

“Sorry to interrupt, Mary from Ms Winfrey’s office called, she’s on hold, she needs to speak with you right away, I told her you were otherwise engaged, she insisted, so… sorry”.

Eddie paused, and looked at Richie. Engaged. Engaged?

“Come here,” he mouthed.

Richie looked at him, bewildered.

“Come. Here.” Eddie whispered.

Richie looked around sheepishly and entered the office, shoulders hunched and still looking confused.

“Gentlemen,” Eddie started as Richie came to stand beside him. “I understand the predicament we are in, and there’s uh, I think there’s something you should know.”

He steeled himself for a moment. “We are, uh, getting married.” He tapped Richie on the chest. “We are getting married.”

“We are?”

“Getting married, yes.” He forced a smile, and hoped Richie wasn’t about to blow this.

“Isn’t he your secretary?” Malloy asked.

“Assistant,” Richie countered.

“Executive, uh, assistant secretary. Titles. But, uh, wouldn’t be the first time one of us fell for our secretaries, would it Edwin?” He forced a laugh. “So, yeah, the truth is, Richie and I we’re… we are just two people who weren’t meant to fall in love but we did. All those, late nights at the office and weekend book fairs… Something happened. Tried to fight it and… can’t, uh, can’t fight a love like ours. So, are we good with this? Are you happy? Because, well, we are happy. So happy.”

“So happy,” Richie parroted.

“Edward?” said Bergen.

“Yes?”

“It’s terrific. Just make it legal, mm?” He waggled his finger in their direction.

“Oh! Legal! Yeah, well, that means we need to get ourselves to the immigration office. So we can work this whole mess out. Right? Thank you very much gentlemen, we will do that right away, thank you.”

“Gentlemen,” Richie repeated, nodding as he followed Eddie out of the door.

Back in Eddie’s office Richie gently pulled the door shut and rested his forehead against it. “So, Eddie, care to explain exactly what I agreed to here and why?”

“Relax, this helps you too. They were going to make Bob chief.”

“So naturally I would have to marry you.”

When Eddie replied he was uncharacteristically quiet. “I’m being deported.”

Richie whipped around to face him. “To Poland!?”

“To Canada, asshole! I’m from Toronto.”

Richie blinked at him, unfazed.

Eddie sighed. “My dad was from Poland. I was born in Canada.”

Richie made a small “ah” of acknowledgement. ”And what did you do to get deported? Was it tax evasion? Money laundering? Is this job just a front for the mafia? Is that why you never take my recommendations seriously? Is it drugs? Are you secretly smuggling cocaine across the border?” Richie’s eyes widened as he continued. “Did you finally snap and kill a man? Was it Bill for pushing his weird alien child-devouring clown books again? Do you need me to help you hide the body? Ordinarily I’d say no but honestly Bill had it coming,” he grinned.

Eddie just shook his head. “Stupid. Fucking. Paperwork. I forgot to fill some forms in. I was so busy trying to book Frank for that damn Oprah interview, the task I told Bob to do twenty times by the way, that I completely fucking forgot!”

Eddie fished around in his drawer for a second before pulling out an inhaler and taking two puffs.

Richie took a deep breath, hoping Eddie would mirror it and begin to calm down a little. They had helped each other through panic attacks before, but it was never easy, and Richie wanted to avoid one if he could help it.

When he spoke, he spoke gently. “Eddie, Spaghetti, light of my life. This is illegal.”

Eddie scoffed, eyes wide. “They’re looking for terrorists, not book publishers!”

Richie didn’t bite. “I’m not gonna marry you, man.”

“Yes you are, I’ll make it up to you. I will read the book again. I will publish it. I will give you anything you want. Just, please, Richie… Marry me.”

They looked at each other for another moment. Eddie visibly deflated.

“I’m sorry. I know this is a shitty situation. I don’t even know if you’re-” Eddie thought for a second. “Supportive of this. Of, people like me. If you’re not comfortable marrying your boss, or a man, that’s… It’s okay. I’m sorry for springing this on you, I just panicked. There’s nothing in Toronto for me.”

Richie let out a small laugh in shock.

Eddie glared at him.

“Dude. I’m gay.”

Eddie blinked.

“I don’t have a problem marrying you because we’re both guys, Eddie, I just. A little warning would have been nice is all.”

“A little warning about being deported would have been nice too.” He deadpanned, only smiling when Richie laughed.

“Yeah I guess that’s fair. Okay. So we get married. My book gets published. Then what?”

“Well after the allotted period of time we get a quickie divorce and our time together will be done.”

“But until then?”

Eddie paused. “Your wagon is hitched to mine.”

Richie grinned, his eyes widening. “Wait, was that a sex joke, Spaghetti? Are we gonna fu-”

“Beep beep, Richie.” He shook his head. “This is crazy. This is crazy, isn’t it? Oh you’ve done it now Kaspbrak. C’mon,” he motioned, heading back towards the door, not giving Richie a chance to respond. “We have to go to immigration.”

Chapter Text

The pair entered the citizenship and immigration office on their lunch break, Eddie already scowling at the length of the queue.

Richie let out a small whistle. “I wish Patty were here now.”

Eddie looked at him quizzically but said nothing.

40 minutes passed and Eddie was physically vibrating by the time they reached the front of the queue.

He slapped a folder on the desk and said, “I need you to file this fiancee visa for me, please.”

The man at the desk nodded and opened the file in front of him. A second later he spoke.

“Mr Kaspbrak?”

“Yes?”

“Please, come with me.”

He led the pair to a room, where Richie immediately sat. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Eddie just looked at his phone. They had so much fucking work to do, he didn’t have time to fight with immigration lawyers.

A knock at the door interrupted their thoughts.

“Hi, hello,” a man said. “I’m Mr Gilbertson. You must be Richard, and you must be-”

“Edward.” Interrupted Eddie.

“Edward,” Mr Gilbertson smiled. “Sorry about the wait, it’s a crazy day today.”

“Oh, of course, of course. We understand. And I can’t tell you how much we appreciate you seeing us on such short notice.” Eddie smiled at the man.

Richie wondered if Mr Gilbertson could see how irate he was, if he could see how Eddie’s smile didn’t reach his eyes, like a shark.

Gilbertson didn’t seem to notice, too engrossed in the file. He vocalised as he read. “O-kaaaaay. Buh buh buh buh buh buh buh buh buhhhh. So, I have one question for you.”

The pair nodded.

“Are you both committing fraud to avoid deportation so he can keep his position as editor in chief at Colden Books?”

“That’s ridiculous.” Richie said.

“Where did you hear that?” Said Eddie, at the same time.

“We had a phone tip this afternoon from a man named-”

“Would it be Bob Spaulding?” Eddie interrupted. “I’m so sorry. Bob is a disgruntled former employee. I fired him today and he must have tipped you off to get back at me. I can only apologise. We know you’re incredibly busy. If you just tell us the next step we will be out of your hair and on our way.”

“Mr Kaspbrak, please.”

He motioned for Eddie to take a seat next to Richie.

“Let me explain to you the process that’s about to unfold. Step one will be a scheduled interview. I’ll put you each in a room, and I’ll ask you every little question that a real couple would know about each other. Step two, I dig deeper, I look at your phone records, I talk to your neighbours, I interview your coworkers. If your answers don’t match up at every point, you,” he pointed at Eddie, “will be deported indefinitely. And you,” he said, turning to Richie, “will have committed a felony punishable by a fine of $250,000 and a stay of five years in federal prison.”

Richie tried not to gulp visibly.

“So, Richard. You want to talk to me?”

Richie pursed his lips and shook his head.

“No?” said Gilbertson.

Richie nodded. Then shook his head again. Then looked at Eddie, lost. Eddie just shook his head.

“Uh, the truth is.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Mr Gilbertson, the truth is, Eddie and I are just two people, who weren’t supposed to fall in love. But did.”

He looked at Eddie then, and saw Eddie looking right back at him, smiling softly.

“We couldn’t tell anyone we work with because of a big promotion I have coming up.”

“A promotion?” Gilbertson asked.

“Yeah, Edward and I thought it would be inappropriate for me to be promoted to editor while we were knocking boots.”

Gilbertson cleared his throat. “So, have the two of you told your parents about your secret love?”

“Impossible. My parents are dead.” Eddie deadpanned. “No brothers or sisters either.”

“Are your parents dead?” Gilbertson asked Richie.

“No, they are very much alive. I haven’t told them on account of them being from rural Maine and because my fiance is a man.” Richie smiled mockingly.

“Well, we were gonna tell them this weekend. Maggie’s 60th birthday, and the whole family’s coming together. We thought it would be a nice surprise.”

Richie blinked, trying not to look shocked.

“And uh, where is this party taking place?”

“At Richard’s parents house.”

“Where is that located again?”

Richie prepared to take over from Eddie’s scrambling, but he continued with ease.

“Derry. In Maine, near the Rines Forest.”

“You’re gonna go to Maine this weekend?”

They both nodded.

Gilbertson sighed and closed the folder. “Fine. I see how this is gonna go. I will see you both at 11 o’clock on Monday morning for your scheduled interview and your answers better match up on every account.”

He handed Richie a post it note with their appointment on and Eddie’s phone rang.

“I’m gonna enjoy this one. Gonna be fun, I’ll be checking up on you!” Gilbertson called after them as they left his office, Eddie first to take his call, Richie second, throwing Gilbertson a wave on his way out.

Richie was in a daze. He knew he had talked about his hometown with Eddie, but he didn’t think Eddie would have remembered. Maine maybe, but not the town, not the geographical feature it was closest to. People tended to tune Richie out, to let him talk at them rather than to them. Richie always thought Eddie did the same. Richie thought wrong.

“Hey,” Eddie said, snapping him out of his thoughts. “You wanna get some lunch?”

“So what’s the plan?” Richie asked around a mouthful of bagel.

“We will go up there, we will pretend we are boyfriends, we will tell your parents we’re engaged. Uh, use the miles for the tickets. We can fly first class, you deserve that. Oh, and please confirm the vegan meal cause last time they actually gave it to a vegan, and they forced me to eat this clammy, warm, creamy salad thing, which was upsetting to say the least. Are you getting this?”

Richie just looked at him. “I’m sorry, were you not in that room?”

Eddie looked right back. “What. What? Oh! The thing you said about being promoted? Genius, he completely fell for it.”

“I was serious. I’m looking at a $250,000 fine and five years in jail. That changes things.”

“Promote you to editor?” Eddie dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin, mulling it over. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Deal.” He took a bite out of his bagel as Richie gawped at him.

“I expected way more pushback on that.”

Eddie shrugged. “You’re good at your job. Your taste is questionable but it’s good to have variety in a publishing house. I trust you. If I can make it happen, I will. I promise.”

“You getting soppy on me, Kaspbrak? Are you feeling okay there?”

“Yeah yeah whatever, don’t make me change my mind.”

“I have another condition.” Richie said suddenly, his eyes lighting up. “Ask me nicely.”

“Ask you nicely, what?”

“Ask me nicely to marry you, Edward.”

Eddie shook his head. “What does that mean?”

“You heard me. On your knee.”

Eddie contemplated it for a moment. He knew Richie was being a shit. He knew Richie was trying to see how far he could push him. Sighing, he wiped his hands, unclasped a chain from around his neck, and got down on one knee before Richie right there in the deli.

“Does this work for you?” Eddie asked, looking up at Richie.

He swallowed. “Oh, I like this. Yeah.”

“Great, will you marry me?”

“No. Say it like you mean it.”

Eddie sighed again and fiddled with the chain some more, removing a thick gold band.

“Richard?”

“Yes, Eddie, my love?”

“Sweet Richard?”

“I’m listening,” teased Richie, fluttering his eyelashes.

“Knowing you has been the best three years of my life. Every coffee, every weekend away, every midnight bodega snack run has filled me with happiness the likes of which I’ve never known. I would be honoured if you would pretty please with cherries on top, marry me.”

Keeping eye contact, Eddie held up his father’s wedding ring and let out a shaky breath.

Reign it in Kaspbrak, that was too sincere. Stupid, stupid, stupi-

Richie sniffed wetly. “Well I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, but yes I will marry you,” he grinned, offering Eddie his hand to slip the ring on.

Eddie laughed. He thought I was joking. I can live with that.

Richie pulled him into a bear hug, and a few tourists clapped for them. The rest of the deli ignored them completely.

Never change, New York.