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“You two,” Eddie says after stepping onto the Uris’ front porch, doing a dramatic spin-around to wag his finger in Richie and Frankie’s faces, “need to be on your best behavior.”
“Come on, Eds, you know we’re always good,” Richie groans, but he’s got that shit-eating grin on his face that somehow grows even wider when he and Frankie make eye contact.
Most of the time, Eddie’s heart would do a little skip whenever he sees Richie and Frankie bond in that way: the inside jokes between the two of them, the shared laughter. Eddie adores seeing the two of them together, and he’s told Richie over and over again how happy he is to see how quickly Frankie took to Richie, how genuinely excited his son seems whenever he comes over to their (because it’s theirs now, Eddie and Richie’s, has been ever since they’ve gotten engaged, and god does it feel good) apartment for Eddie’s week and sees Richie.
But right now, after getting up at four in the morning, wrestling Frankie out of bed so that they’d make it to the airport on time, enduring a five-hour delay, spending three hours on a plane, landing in Atlanta at eight o’clock and collapsing into their beds as soon as they made it to the hotel, and having to commute from their hotel in downtown Atlanta to the residential area where Stan and Patty lived with their daughters - all while being on the receiving end of whatever joke or bit Richie and Frankie roped each other into, mind you - the last thing Eddie wants is for the two of them to corral the rest of the Losers against him, too.
“Oh, yeah?” Eddie asks, snapping his gaze down to look at Frankie.
Frankie seems to be fascinated with Stan and Patty’s front yard in particular; it’s one of those moments where Eddie is reminded of how different their life in Manhattan is, especially compared to the way Eddie grew up. Frankie had seemed to be completely out of his element in Derry - it was much too quiet and open, especially compared to Manhattan - and even though Atlanta isn’t nearly as quiet as Eddie’s hometown, Frankie still seems to be caught off guard with the fact that the Uris’ actually have a front and backyard, and the privacy that comes with living in a neighborhood like this.
When Frankie finally looks over at Eddie, he raises a brow. “I’m always good, Dad.”
“You told the TSA agent the reason why the metal detector was going off was because I put a tracking device in your head.”
“That was hilarious, and you know it,” Richie chips in, holding his hand low for Frankie to high-five it. Frankie does, of course, smiling smugly up at Eddie.
“It definitely wasn’t.”
“The TSA agent laughed,” Frankie points out; Eddie rolls his eyes.
“Best. Behavior.” Eddie reminds them both, and before either Richie or Frankie can launch into a defense of themselves - or start a new bit, knowing them - he rings the doorbell, glancing down at the WELCOME mat adorned with little birds beneath his feet. There’s something so homely, so very Stanley about the house, and Eddie’s heart warms when he hears the sound of laughter from behind the door, of multiple pairs of feet making their way over.
Patty opens the door, and Eddie barely has time to say anything before Richie cries out Patty-cakes! and scoops her into a hug.
“I missed you so much,” Richie’s telling her; Patty laughs, rubbing his shoulder blades.
“I missed you too,” Patty tells him earnestly, untangling herself from Richie’s death grip and holding out her arms for Eddie. “And you, Eddie.”
“But me more, right?” Richie jokes.
Eddie nudges Richie lightly with his elbow, hugging Patty back tightly. It still surprises him a little how easily Patty fits in with the rest of the Losers, how welcoming and kind she’s always been. How accepting of all of their quirks and oddities - pretty much the perfect person for Stan, Eddie’s always thought.
“You look amazing,” Eddie says, his eyes instinctively dropping down to where Patty’s hands are splayed on her stomach. “How many months is it, now?”
“Three,” Patty says, her voice soft and breathless; Eddie still can’t believe it, ever since Stan and Patty had told them about her pregnancy after announcing that they wanted to invite everyone over for Thanksgiving. “And thank you. It’s only been for the past week that I haven’t wanted to puke my guts out every waking hour.”
As the rest of the Losers round the corner after hearing the commotion, Eddie watches as Patty walks out onto the porch and smiles down at Frankie.
“Hey, Frankie - how’s everything?” she says, and Eddie’s eyes widen a little when he sees how her sign language has gotten a little more confident, more fluid.
Frankie smiles at her, shrugging. “I’m okay.”
Eddie’s throat tightens with emotion when the rest of their friends come to greet them, and he notices how pretty much everyone - with varying degrees of confidence, of course - seems to make more attempts to speak to Frankie in ASL, rather than just relying on having Frankie read their lips.
Frankie seems to notice, too; Eddie can see it in his son’s expression, that sort of wide-eyed, flushed look that Frankie’s starting to get when he sees how the Losers are actively trying to communicate with him in the language he’s most comfortable in. Even if no one is near fluent - not even Richie is, although he’s been studying and practicing hard - the effort everyone’s made to at least attempt to learn leaves Eddie speechless.
“I hope all of the traveling you guys have had to do wasn’t too bad,” Stan’s saying, and Eddie has to swallow and nod a few times in order to right himself.
“It was alright,” Eddie says as they finally make their way into the Uris home. He can hear more footsteps stomping against the hardwood floors from somewhere deeper inside of the house, and before he knows it, he breaks out into a massive grin when he sees Stan and Patty’s daughters running towards them.
“Heya, girls!” Richie crows, oofing when Stan’s oldest daughter, Wren, practically launches herself against his legs. “I see you went over to your favorite uncle first, not boring Uncle Eddie, huh?”
“Stop poisoning my daughter against people,” Stan warns Richie with a grin, thumping the back of his head.
“Really, dude? In front of the kids?”
Eddie accepts hugs from both of the girls, his heart warming when he sees both of them going over to Frankie almost immediately, giving him a big wave.
“Hey!” Ava says cheerfully. “Did you wanna go outside and play with Roscoe?”
As if on cue, Eddie hears the sound of nails clacking against the wood floors, and Ben’s German Shepherd rounds the corner, ears dropping onto the side of his head when he sees new guests to greet.
Frankie’s eyes light up at the sight of the dog, glancing up at Ben and Eddie to ask if it’s okay before petting the dog’s head, laughing as Roscoe noses his stomach, tail thumping against the wall.
“He loves kids,” Ben promises Eddie; Wren and Ava immediately usher Frankie outside, the dog running after them. Eddie watches fondly as Stan’s daughters make sure to face Frankie whenever they’re talking to him so he can see their lips.
“How bad was the delay?” Mike asks Eddie as the adults start making their way to Stan and Patty’s living room; Richie’s got his arms wrapped around Stan’s shoulders as they walk, animatedly talking to Bill about something or other.
“Five hours,” Eddie groans. “Five goddamn hours in LaGuardia with a twelve year-old and,” Eddie looks over to where Richie is giving Stan a noogie, “Richie.”
“Huh?” Richie asks. Stan takes the chance to duck away from Richie, lightly nudging him square in the stomach with his elbow. “Cheap shot!”
Eddie turns and gives Mike a look with a raised brow; Mike laughs, wrapping an arm around Eddie and tugging him close.
“You poor soul.”
“I think,” Patty says, “you two need a drink and to sit down for a while.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” Eddie laughs. “Are you sure you don’t need any help with cooking or anything?”
“No, no,” Patty says, leading Eddie into the kitchen. “Mike and Ben have already been more than enough help, and,” She lowers her voice, glancing around, “we’ve been trying everything to keep Bill out of here from now on.”
“That bad?”
With her foot, Patty moves their trashcan over and steps on the base, raising her brow as Eddie, very cautiously, peeks inside.
“Is that- what is that? Glue?”
“Mashed potatoes,” Patty drawls in an uncharacteristically deadpan voice; she and Eddie look at each other for a few moments before snickering into a fit of laughter.
“Are you-?” Bill asks as he makes his way into the kitchen despite Ben trying to guide him away; he looks at the trashcan and groans. “I followed the directions on the box!”
“If you followed the instructions, then why the hell does it look like that?!”
“Look man, it’s not my fault-”
“Why are we yelling at Bill?” Richie says as he pops into the kitchen, taking one look at the open trash can and looking back down at him. “What even is that?”
Despite the back and forth about Bill’s lack of skill (in Mike’s gentle wording) in the kitchen, Mike and Ben take back up the reins in the kitchen, shooing the rest of them out. After checking in with the rest of his friends, Eddie decides to head out into the backyard where the kids are playing with Ben’s dog, nursing the cup of hot chocolate Ben made for everyone, sitting down on the top of the porch stairs and watching his son playing with Stan’s daughters.
The Georgia sun is warm despite the chill in the air; Eddie snuggles into his sweater. As soon as Stan and Patty invited the Losers to their home in Atlanta for Thanksgiving, Eddie accepted it eagerly and without a second thought. He - like most people nowadays, he can imagine - has never really liked Thanksgiving, and has spent the last forty-one years of his life dreading late November.
As a child, it was the thought of spending another lonely day with his mother, listening to her drone on and on about whatever flurry of anxiety she’d worked herself up into that year; as an adult, it was having to spend it with Myra’s side of the family in Wisconsin, watching the disappointment on Frankie’s face as his son got older. Spending the entire holiday at Frankie’s side, talking to his son and trying to entertain him, watching as Myra’s relatives moved about the rest of the house, refusing to spare a glance down at Frankie. Trying to get Frankie to play with his cousins and eventually having to separate them, realizing very quickly that Frankie didn’t like his cousins from his mother’s side of the family, and they didn’t care for him much, either.
“This seat taken?”
Eddie jolts, breathing out a sigh of relief when he sees Bev padding onto the back porch, gently settling herself next to him on the steps. She’s nursing her own cup, giving him a long side glance as she takes a sip.
“Not at all.”
Bev sets down her mug. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” she says, leaning over to give his temple a teasing poke.
“Not much,” he tells her; it’s not a lie, but Bev hums thoughtfully, brow raised as she sets her cup down on her other side.
“If you were anyone else, I’d believe that,” she jokes fondly; Eddie laughs a little, shaking his head.
“I guess I can’t argue with you there,” he admits, looking back to where the kids are. Frankie’s playing with Ben’s dog as Wren and Ava watch; Eddie smiles as Frankie grins when Roscoe drops the tennis ball in the grass at Frankie’s feet, pink tongue hanging out of his mouth as the German Shepherd backs up a few pawsteps, waiting for the boy to throw the ball again. “The kids are going to need to scrub every inch of their arms when they’re done playing with the dog.”
Bev follows his gaze, chuckling a little. “Oh, yeah. Roscoe slobbers all over his toys, believe me.” After a few moments, Bev asks, “So. How’s everything been going since I last saw you guys?”
Eddie takes another sip of his hot chocolate, smiling into his mug as he watches Frankie demonstrating to Stan’s younger daughter, Ava, how to throw the tennis ball better. The girl watches Frankie’s arms with rapt attention; as soon as Eddie’s son hands it back to her - rubbing his hands on the back of his pants, much to Eddie’s chagrin - Ava chucks the tennis ball almost over the fence completely as Frankie watches with wide eyes.
“Ha, she showed you!” Wren laughs; Frankie smiles, clapping Ava on the shoulder.
“It’s been good,” Eddie finally says to Bev, pausing briefly. “Really good, actually.”
“Yeah?”
Eddie nods. It has been - much better than Eddie ever expected it to be, maybe much more than he thinks he deserves. He, Frankie, and Richie have fallen into a routine over the past few weeks now that Richie’s permanently moved into the apartment, and every night during one of the weeks that Frankie’s staying at his apartment, sitting at the table with his fiance and his son, Eddie wonders what he’s ever done to deserve to have this.
“How’s Richie been?” Bev asks, a little softer. She has a thoughtful look in her eyes as she watches the kids play with Ben’s dog - now, Wren’s snatched the ball and is running around the yard with it, shrieking in laughter whenever Roscoe tries to gently grab it from her hands. “I can’t believe you guys are getting married, it’s like - I mean, yeah, we all knew it was going to happen, but it’s so surreal.”
“I know,” Eddie breathes; even now, sitting in the backyard of the Uris home with Richie most likely bugging Stan and Mike while they’re trying to finish cooking, Frankie in the backyard playing with Stan and Patty’s children, it’s almost like a dream that Eddie’s terrified he’ll wake up from at any moment.
(That he’ll come to and be in the tunnels under that house in Neibolt, Pennywise taking the form of his mother and looming over him, mouth twisted in a grin and hissing out: eddie, eddie-bear, you know someone like you isn’t going to get a happy ending, don’t you?)
“I still can’t believe it,” Eddie admits, propping his elbows on the top of his knees and putting his chin in the palm of one hand, watching the kids. “Richie’s been good, though. He’s been-” He feels the tips of his ears flush, laughs a little, “-he’s really good with Frankie.”
And Richie is: he and Frankie get along great, not that Eddie had ever really had any doubts, but the awkwardness that Eddie had spent weeks and weeks worrying about hadn’t really happened. Richie and Frankie get along with each other; they have their own little inside jokes and their own dynamic.
Sometimes, Eddie thinks that Richie’s been able to figure out how to bond with Frankie in a short amount of time much better than he ever has.
“Yeah?” Bev asks, even though he knows that she’s seen it too - all of the Losers have, in fact.
Eddie remembers the long phone calls he had with everyone individually before Richie and Frankie officially met: he was a bundle of nerves, more so than usual, terrified that it wouldn’t work. That it would be too much for Frankie too soon; that Richie would realize he wanted more than a freshly divorced guy with a kid. That Frankie would hate Richie, that it’d be awkward and tense to the point where Eddie and Richie’s relationship wouldn’t be able to move forward, not for Frankie’s sake.
Before Eddie can say anything, the man in question walks out onto the porch with his usual clambering footsteps and chatter; Richie beams at Eddie, leaning down to give his cheek a kiss, before leaning over to give a loud mwah! to Bev’s hair, no matter how much she tries batting him away.
“What’d I do now?” Richie asks as he sits down on Eddie’s other side; Eddie wordlessly hands Richie his mug, smiling as he takes a large sip of hot coco.
“Just the usual.” Be amazing, the corny part of Eddie’s mind supplies.
“Richie,” It always shocks Eddie that Frankie’s become comfortable with speaking in front of the Losers over such a short amount of time; Eddie thinks that there’s members of Myra’s family who have never heard Frankie’s voice before. “Do you wanna play Manhunt with us?”
Richie slaps his knees. “You know it. I’m not gonna let you beat me this time, dude.”
Frankie’s smirk is wicked; Eddie watches as Frankie pats at the side of Richie’s jacket, leading him to where Wren and Ava are playing.
“He’s like a big kid himself,” Bev finally says, her expression unbelievably soft as she watches the girls run to meet Richie. “I always knew it was going to work out, Eds. We all did.”
Eddie nods. Ava is pointing in multiple directions and clearly is the one in charge of the game, and Eddie feels his heart warm at the sight of her and Wren taking the time to make sure Frankie understands, even using some sign language.
“You guys have been great with him too, you know,” Eddie finds himself saying, glancing over at Bev.
Bev raises her brow, and Eddie continues, “I mean - I know that no one else really has any experience with someone who’s Deaf or hard of hearing, so it’s not like I expected-”
“Eddie, you know no one would ever want to make Frankie feel left out or uncomfortable,” Bev cuts in, her voice gentle yet firm. “He should feel included in everything we do; we’re a family now.”
It’s simple, yet the sentiment makes Eddie’s eyes water a little. If Beverly notices, she doesn’t comment - she simply reaches over and squeezes his hand, holding onto it as they watch Ava covering her eyes and count, Roscoe loyally sitting at her side.
“How’s…” Bev trails off, and Eddie has a feeling that he already knows what she’s going to say. “What’s his mother doing today?”
“She’s on a cruise,” he says, shrugging at Bev’s surprised expression. “Her- some of her coworkers and her sister told her to take a vacation for the holiday, as soon as I…you know, when Stan and Patty asked us to come here.”
Eddie hadn’t actually mentioned the plans to come to Georgia for Thanksgiving to Frankie; Wren did, and once Frankie had asked about it, he was adamant that he’d rather spend the holiday with Eddie and Richie and Dad’s side of the family, instead of in Wisconsin with Myra’s family. Myra had gone back and forth with Eddie for a few days until she randomly texted him at six am sharp a few days ago that she’d made plans for herself for Thanksgiving.
“Well,” Bev shrugs, humming thoughtfully. “That worked out, I guess.”
“Luckily.”
“Do you think it’ll ever get easier?” Bev asks, smiling a little when she watches Ava direct Roscoe around the backyard to look for her sister, cousin, and uncle. “With Myra, I mean.”
“No,” Eddie says automatically.
Bev bites her bottom lip, sighs through her nostrils. “How’s Frankie dealing with that?”
Instinctively, Eddie wants to say that Frankie’s handled everything incredibly well, much better than Eddie had ever expected him to. That he’s welcomed Richie eagerly, that he seems excited to come over to their apartment every other week, that he feels closer to Frankie now than he did before the divorce, when Eddie had been operating on autopilot.
But there’s been times over the past few months, ever since summer break ended and Frankie started middle school, that he wonders if Frankie’s keeping things from him. The way his son dodges questions about how school is going, how Frankie quiets and shrugs when Eddie asks about certain friends. The times where Myra opens her apartment door on Sunday afternoons to trade Frankie over to him for the week and slams it just as quickly, seemingly exhausted with their son, and Eddie wonders.
He’s tried to ask Frankie about it, has told him time and time again that he’s always there for him if he needs to talk, but every time he does, Frankie gets this narrowed-eyed, annoyed look on his face: one of the few expressions that he has that reminds Eddie of Myra.
Before Eddie can open his mouth and spill any of that to Beverly, there’s a yell from the cluster of trees near the back corner of Stan and Patty’s backyard, and Richie stomps out from his hiding spot, Roscoe nosing against his hoodie pocket.
The trees above Richie rustle, and Eddie watches - wide-eyed and more than a little annoyed - as Frankie climbs down, landing in the grass and holding up his arms, “I win.”
“You cheated,” Richie accuses, digging into his jacket pocket and producing the source of Roscoe’s frenzied sniffing: what looks like a package of peanut butter crackers that Frankie must’ve grabbed from the airport yesterday. “You-” Richie looks over to where Eddie is sitting, “Eds, your son is a cheater.”
Eddie holds out his palms. “Nothing I can do about it, Rich.”
Frankie crosses his arms behind his back, shrugging.
“He- I can’t even look at you right now, man,” Richie’s saying, although he’s smiling when he looks down at Frankie. “How did you even sneak that into my pocket?!”
Frankie shrugs again, grin intact as he pets Roscoe behind his ears.
“I hope you guys are ready to eat,” Mike calls out from the backdoor, tilting his head to the side as Wren and Ava start ganging up on Richie, pointing and laughing at his frustration. “Did he lose a game against them?”
“Yep,” Bev says at the same time that Richie shouts out, “Because Frankie cheated!”
“Rich, get inside and get washed up for dinner,” Eddie says, laughing at his fiance’s expression. “You too, kids.”
Richie’s still calling for a rematch later as they walk back inside of the house; Bev looks over at the girls and grins, hooking her thumb over at Richie.
“Girls, don’t let him teach you how to be a sore loser,” Bev tells them, causing Wren and Ava to giggle.
“Am I the only person who cares about upholding honesty?” Richie asks. Both Eddie and Bev stare at him for a long time until Richie huffs, glaring down at Frankie. “Until next time, shortstack.”
Frankie narrows his eyes, but before the two of them can start going back and forth, Eddie gives his son a stern look, “Go wash your hands.”
Frankie huffs, glancing back at Richie with a grin and whispering sore loser as he darts past, following Wren and Ava to the bathroom.
--
Eddie’s always hated Thanksgiving, sure, but this year is proving to be the best one he’s had, probably ever: he’s surrounded by the Losers and their children and eating the best Thanksgiving food he’s ever had. Myra’s family always served bland turkey with the same sides every year, small portions of mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. Eddie remembers countless holidays where he and Frankie would pick at their plates, waiting until dinner was over and Eddie would sneak into Myra’s mother’s pantry and grab some snacks for the pair of them to share. It was easy to get away with, since most of the other guests were used to forgetting that he and Frankie even existed in the first place.
But now, Frankie is sitting across from Eddie, in between Bill and Wren, chowing down on his turkey leg; Eddie keeps trying to tell his son to slow down and chew, but every time he does, Frankie holds up a finger in a one minute gesture and continues eating.
“Good, huh?” Mike asks from Bill’s other side, arm nestled comfortably on the back of Bill’s chair. Eddie watches Bill lean back into it and he smiles to himself, giddy at seeing the two of them together.
Frankie nods, giving Mike a thumbs up.
“Ava,” Stan warns his youngest, narrowing his eyes at her. “Don’t feed the dog.”
“I didn’t,” Ava says, trying to hide the bread roll on her other side; Roscoe whines from his spot on the floor. “Daddy said no,” she whispers to the dog.
Roscoe actually turns to look up at Stan, large ears flicking back and eyes widening underneath Stan’s stern look.
“No,” Stan repeats.
“He can have a little bit,” Ben says, tearing off a piece of turkey. “Catch, Roscoe.” Roscoe snatches the piece of turkey midair and actually looks back at Stan, as if to say see?
“How can you resist those puppy eyes, Stan?” Richie asks incredulously.
“Very easily.”
Roscoe whines again, nosing Stan’s pant leg.
“How do you say dog in sign language?” Wren randomly asks Frankie; Frankie sets down his turkey leg and pats his leg twice and snaps his fingers.
Roscoe immediately leaves Stan’s side and goes over to Frankie.
Wren looks bewildered, and Eddie laughs a little as he explains, “That’s really how you say it. You can spell it out, too.”
“Like this?” Wren spells the letters out with her fingers, quicker than Eddie had expected her too. “I know the alphabet.”
“Me too!” Ava cheers, and then pats her leg twice and snaps her fingers; Roscoe leaves Frankie’s side and goes back to his initial spot between Ava and her father. At Stan’s groan, Ava explains, “I’m practicing ASL.”
“You know the whole alphabet?” Frankie asks Wren, frowning when she nods. “Why?”
Wren blinks. “What’d you mean why?”
Frankie shrugs and looks back at his plate. Eddie can see the stiffness in Frankie’s shoulders; it’s not anger, Frankie usually lets people know when he’s angry or annoyed, it seems like he’s more or less confused, maybe a little overwhelmed.
There’s multiple different conversations going on at once - from Richie launching into a debate with Bev and Patty over whether the second Jurassic Park movie is actually good or not, to Stan and Ben going back and forth over feeding the dog table scraps, and Mike and Bill talking animatedly to one another about some podcast they’ve started listening to - yet somehow, it seems like everything stills when Frankie speaks up and says,
“You guys don’t have to do that, you know.”
There’s a beat of silence that follows; Eddie tries to catch his son’s eye from across the table, but Frankie stubbornly looks away from him.
“Learn ASL for me,” Frankie goes on, shrugging. “It’s not a big deal.”
Before Eddie can interject, to try and get Frankie’s attention, ask him if he needs to take a break, Mike says, earnestly, “Of course it’s a big deal, Frank.”
“Why wouldn’t we want to learn for you?” Bev says, not unkindly. “You’re a part of our family.”
Frankie’s gaze snaps to Bev’s quickly, searching hers - gauging her sincerity, if she truly means that.
“You guys don’t eat pork for us,” Wren offers; Frankie’s eyelashes flutter.
“Well, that’s- that’s different.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“No.”
“Yeah.”
“No.”
“Yeah.”
“I like talking to you,” Richie cuts in, shrugging. At Frankie’s expression, he continues, “And I like learning ASL so that we can understand each other better. I mean, how else would the two of us team up against your old man, huh?”
“Hey,” Eddie tries to joke, but it’s a little breathy; Richie notices, of course, he always notices everything about Eddie - sometimes to Eddie’s joy, other times to his annoyance - and he feels Richie’s hand come to touch his side, worried.
“Oh,” Frankie finally says, glancing down at his plate and shrugging again. “Okay. As long as…I mean, as long as it doesn’t like- you know, bother anyone.”
“Not at all,” Ben says gently, and then, “You’ve been really patient with how long it’s taking everyone to learn.”
Frankie shrugs, pushing his mashed potatoes with a fork. “I mean, I can understand a lot of what’s going on from reading lips, but…” His cheeks tint pink, and Frankie ducks his head, nodding. “Okay. Um. Thanks.”
“Aw, we’re embarrassing him,” Richie jokes; Eddie glances between his fiance and his son, worried that Richie’s saying the wrong thing at that moment.
“Rich,” Eddie mutters, until Frankie narrows his eyes at Richie.
“Nu-uh.”
“Yeah-huh.”
“You’re just mad that you lost at manhunt earlier.”
Richie plunks his fork down. “Okay, little man, what does-”
“Sore loser, sore loser, sore loser.”
“And they’re back,” Eddie breathes a sigh of relief, trying to catch Frankie’s eye; Frankie still seems a little bashful, but he looks back at Wren, smiling when she starts showing him how quickly she can do the alphabet.
“I demand a re-do,” Richie says, gesturing to Stan. “C’mon, Staniel, next round, you and me-”
“Oh, no, that’s all you,” Stan says as he leans back in his seat.
“Eddie,” Richie turns to him, and groaning. “Tell your son to stop bullying me.”
“Dad, tell your boyfriend to stop crying.”
Bill nearly spits out his drink, turning his face to hide it in Mike’s shoulder; Bev and Ben cover their mouths with their hands, shoulders shaking in laughter.
Richie puts a hand on his chest, grinning. “Franklin Kaspbrak, how dare you-”
Frankie grins, and very slowly begins reaching up to his ears.
“Frankie,” Eddie warns before Frankie can move an inch closer. “Don’t you dare.”
Frankie takes off one of his cochlear’s, and then the other, setting them down on the table, before crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes.
“Is he-” Richie hooks a thumb over to Frankie. “Is he really-?”
“Yeah, he is,” Eddie groans. “That’s what he does when he’s done arguing.”
“Okay, well, I’m gonna wait until he opens his eyes,” Richie says, pushing his plate over an inch and staring at Frankie’s closed eyes, waiting.
About two minutes pass before Frankie opens them, and he completely ignores Richie as he takes another bite of one of his rolls and crosses his arms back over his chest, still smirking as he shuts his eyes.
--
After dinner is done, everyone sits out in the Uris’ backyard; Richie had managed to get Bill and Ben to join them in his manhunt rematch, but they’d all lost to Ava, who, by all accounts, didn’t cheat, but Frankie’s smug expression was enough to make Richie try and demand a third game.
But now, everyone unwinds as the kids sit in a small circle in Patty’s garden; Eddie isn’t too far from them, and he can’t help but overhear his son talking to Wren and Ava.
“Are you worried about having a new sibling?” Frankie asks; Eddie looks over his shoulder, staring at his son’s profile in the fading sunlight. Frankie’s asked about Patty’s pregnancy on and off again ever since he’d been told about it, and there’s always that question in the back of Eddie’s mind, that curiosity that’s only gotten stronger the longer he’s been with the Losers.
“Not really,” Wren says, shrugging. “Babies are cute.”
Frankie wrinkles his nose. “Not really.”
“Have you ever been around a baby?”
Frankie thinks, tilts his head to the side. “No.”
“So how would you know?”
“I’ve seen pictures and stuff.”
“I’m excited,” Ava says, petting long strokes down Roscoe’s side. The German Shepherd has long since passed out, probably exhausted from playing with three children all day. “I hope it’s a boy.”
“Why?” Frankie asks; Eddie can see the curiosity in his son’s eyes as he leans forward. “Does it make a difference?”
“Not really,” Ava shrugs, looking back down at Roscoe as she buries her fingers in his shaggy coat. “I just think it’d be fun to have a brother.”
“I hope it’s a girl,” Wren counters, tucking a curl behind her ear. “My friend has a brother who leaves the seat up in the bathroom all the time.”
Frankie blinks once, twice, and Wren makes a face. “Ew. Do you do that?”
“Sometimes.”
“Well, that’s gross.”
“That’s your opinion.”
“Uncle Eddie,” Wren says, frowning. “That’s gross, isn’t it?”
Eddie thinks, nodding. “I mean, it is, but-”
A bird suddenly calls from above them, and in unison, Stan, Wren, and Ava all say, “Common nighthawk.”
Everyone stares at the three of them, minus Patty, who merely sighs and says, “I wasn’t paying attention that time.”
Frankie looks at the girls. “What?”
“The bird,” Ava laughs, pointing up to the tree above them.
Frankie nods. “I thought I heard a little noise, but-” He gestures to his cochlear device.
Instead of asking questions, Wren goes, “Well, it sounded like- you know,” She tries to mimic the sound, a shrill little peet noise.
Frankie laughs, shaking his head. “Okay, thanks.”
Eddie offers to grab a few refills for everyone; he notices Richie following him into the house, and the pair of them walk wordlessly into Stan and Patty’s kitchen.
“You’re having fun, right?” Richie asks suddenly.
Eddie frowns, looking over at his fiance until Richie murmurs, sheepishly, “You just seem kinda, you know-” He points at the wrinkle on Eddie’s forehead, “in there.”
“I’m having fun,” Eddie confirms, because he is - he loves being with the Losers, and he’s definitely had more fun this Thanksgiving than he ever has before. “I’ve just been… I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking.”
Richie’s brow furrows. “Has You-Know-Who-”
“No, no,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “It’s not Myra.” The only time he’s heard from Myra today was when she texted him to tell him that she wanted him to tell Frankie to text her back and check in with her; when he told Frankie, his son had groaned and grumbled that his mother had been asking him to check in every few hours, to which Eddie had to turn and bite his tongue.
“Alright,” Richie nods, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “So it’s not Myra. So…”
Eddie nibbles on his bottom lip, looking out the window that overlooks the backyard. He can see the Losers gathered around and laughing, the kids a little ways away and talking animatedly back and forth. He watches Frankie with Wren and Ava, how at ease Frankie seems with them, more than he ever has with other family members around his age.
Richie walks over to Eddie’s side, following his gaze. “You worried about Frank?”
“No,” I always am, he thinks automatically, but, “Not presently. I just- he’s really good with Ava and Wren, right?”
Richie nods. “The three of them get along really well,” A beat of silence, a low grumble from Richie. “They’re really good at ganging up on people.”
Eddie rolls his eyes fondly, and then - not for the first time, especially not in the past few weeks, but more strongly than ever before - a thought pops into his head: it’s of him with Richie and Frankie, at a family gathering much like this, years from now, younger children running around the house and squealing, tearing up to Frankie and grabbing his hands, asking if he could play with them-
-and Eddie swallows, eyelashes fluttering.
“Eds?” Richie’s voice snaps Eddie out of the daydream; he looks over at his fiance, brows knitting together at Richie’s tentative, almost shy expression. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” Eddie murmurs.
“Do you ever…” Richie looks back out the window, looking over to where the kids are with Roscoe. “Do you ever…you know, think about kids?”
Eddie breathes out sharply, and Richie rubs the back of his neck worriedly.
“I just- sorry, I know…I mean, I know that’s kind of sudden, but-”
“You mean having kids together? You and me?” Eddie asks, even though Richie’s question was obvious, could only mean one thing: that it wasn’t just Eddie, that Richie’s thought of this before. That he’s been entertaining the idea of having children together.
“Well, it wouldn’t be by myself,” Richie says, and then, a little more quietly, “Yeah. You ‘n me.” At Eddie’s shocked expression, Richie continues, “It’s just- ever since Stan and Pats, I’ve been…I’ve been thinking of it, you know? About what it’d be like.”
Eddie has too as of late. With Myra, Eddie had known that they would only ever have Frankie: Myra’s pregnancy had been a complete surprise, and it had dawned on Eddie the older Frankie had gotten and the more he and his mother had argued, and how emotionless Myra and Eddie’s marriage had been, that they shouldn’t have more children together.
But with Richie, Eddie can see it clearly: he can see a future where he and Richie have children together. Where they sit Frankie down and announce, “You’re gonna be a big brother,” and that dream is so incredibly enticing that Eddie has to grip the side of the counter to steady himself.
“I have, too,” Eddie finally says, tearing his eyes away from the window to lock eyes with Richie. “Been thinking about it.”
“Really?” Richie asks, as though he can’t believe it; at Eddie’s raised brow, Richie continues, “I just- I mean, you know this is all kinda new to me, and-”
“Rich,” Eddie says, reaching over to take Richie’s hand. “You know that you’ve been amazing with Frankie, right?”
“I’m alright,” Richie tries to joke; Eddie squeezes his hand.
“I mean it,” Eddie says seriously. “He really likes you; you two get along so well, it’s- I mean, I love it, but sometimes, it’s infuriating when you two gang up on me-”
“It’s just so easy, Eds-”
“-but he really likes you, Richie. You know that, right?”
“I like him too,” Richie says automatically, seriously. “At dinner, when he was saying we didn’t have to learn ASL for him - it broke my heart.”
“Mine too,” Eddie says softly; he wants to talk to Frankie about it, when they’re not surrounded by so many people. “I wish he didn’t think that way.”
“I wanna be there for him, you know?” Richie says, glancing back out the window. “And…I mean, about- you know, about us having kids.” Eddie’s heart thumps in his chest. “Would you really want that with me one day?”
“Yes,” Eddie says automatically, faithfully. “I think Frankie would be a good brother.”
Richie and Eddie watch as Frankie teaches Wren and Ava a few more signs; Eddie’s heart warms at the sight.
“I do too.”