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Richard Tozier and Michael Wheeler were the type of cousins to sell their organs instead of trying to get along with each other. Well, for Mike it depended on which organ and Richie would just dive right onto the operating table, but that's unrelated. The point is, they never got along and they never liked to hear how much they looked alike and they never liked how they were forced to share sweatshirts in the winter. They fought like baby cats and dogs. Even when Richie's boyfriend was on the line. Literally.
The house was supposed to be quiet, and then it wasn't. Mike's aunt had come over out of the blue at a ripe 10 AM in the freezing damp morning on a Saturday for a visit, which Mrs Wheeler swore up and down she “forgot to tell Mike about”, and of course she brought idiotic little Richie along. The same stupid Richie that cracked a dirty joke every chance he could get, the same stupid Richie that made fun of the way that Mike's maybe crush Will Byers dressed even though he himself wore Hawaiian shirts and sandals in November. He was a menace basically, and today was no different.
Luckily for Mike, Richie had taken a very attached interest to his D&D book collection, so while he was down in the basement tankering with whatever, Mike stayed by the staircase writing random words down in his notebook out of pure boredom and keeping an eye on Richie. He could have called his friends over, but he knew that Richie would just be his usual foolish self, so he would rather not. Besides, his mom and aunt were out to brunch, so there was no point in arguing over spilled milk.
“Don't knock anything over! And don't touch the box!” Mike hollered, tilting himself to the side to see what Richie was up to. The younger raven-haired boy was on the couch, gripping one of the achievement books in his hand and snorting to himself. “Hah, this is so nerdy.” He giggled, ironically flipping a page. Mike sighed, scooting a step down. “Well, you're still looking at it.”
Richie dramatically put a hand up in surrender, pushed his glasses up, then squinted at the book a little. Mike finally decided that sitting on the stairs all day and watching his younger cousin launch comment after joke after comment was exhausting, so he pushed himself off the staircase and headed down to the actual basement, sprinting to sit beside Richie. Of course he was wearing his typical pink tropical shirt and shorts on a wet swampy day. Mike slowly sunk into the couch as Richie let out a gasp, pointing at the page where a huge splotchy crimson-red black hole lay in the center. It was mainly used for if you did a certain complex quest right on a forged path.
“I know this one!” The younger boy chirped.
“You do?” Mike asked. Big mistake. He should have known better.
A familiar mischievous and witchy smirk crept onto Richie's lips. “Yeah! It's obviously Eddie's mom's vag on Halloween!” He laughed at Mike's groan, lowering the book and pressing his palm on his stomach.
“You're nuts.” The slightly older messy-haired teen grumbled, snatching the book away from Richie's grip and standing up to put it back. Richie grinned some more, his legs swinging off the couch. “No thanks, only Eddie has access to those!”
“Eddie or Eddie's mom? Make up your mind!” Mike's voice got a tad higher as he shoved the book back on the shelf. “And if you say both, I swear I'm gonna strangle-”
Then, the telephone upstairs rang, the sound piercing and slicing through the air. The room suddenly went very quiet, only the ear-splitting sounds of the phone ringing substituting. “I'll get that, it could be Will.” Mike whispered, quickly heading to the stairs. Richie coughed, leaning to put his elbows on his knees. “Hah, yeah! Your geeky boyfriend! The one with the curved bowl-cut hair!”
Mike's eyebrows furrowed at Richie's reply. “He’s not my boyfriend!! SHUT UP, LOSER!” Mike screamed from the top of the stairs, the phone still loudly ringing as he ran to the kitchen to pick it up in time.
“Make me! Tell your dummy boyfriend or whoever it is to fuck himself, I don't care!” Richie shrieked back, kicking his legs again and debating on which other book to dive through. Mike pretty much slid into the kitchen, almost falling over, but managing to pick himself up and grab the telephone at the very last minute, pulling it up to his ear and fiddling with the wire. Was it Will? Or maybe El was calling?
“Hello?” He asked, a hint of hope visible in his voice. But the voice that crackled through the other end wasn't Will, but someone else's voice that he recognized. Eddie Kaspbrack. “Uhm, h-hi, is this the right house? This is Richie's Aunt's house right?” The voice was hesitant and a bit soft, but still fairly recognizable. A feeble sincere smile spread on Mike's mouth and he leaned against the wall. So this was the guy that Richie drooled so hard over?
“Yeah hey, I'm Mike Wheeler, his cousin. You're Eddie right? His boyfriend?” There was muffled silence on the other end, then a very small and barely clear flustered noise, then Eddie's voice came through again.
“Well, I wouldn't call us that, I don't- I would think so, but he's so fucking confusing.” He replied on the other end, and Mike pushed his back off the kitchen wall.
“Yeah I get that. He's a little shit and trust me, I'm speaking from first experience. Hold on, I'll get him for you.” The older boy said, lowering the phone and covering it. “HEY DIRTBUG, EDDIE'S ON THE-” That's when Mike got an idea. A brilliant vengeful idea to get back at dumb Richie.
“Yeah, whate-Wait, DID YOU SAY EDDIE?!” A shrill voice responded, and Mike could hear rapid footsteps growing louder every second. Time for his revenge. He grinned maliciously, turning around and holding the telephone up to his ear again. “Actually, Richie told me straight up that he wants you to go fu-”
“STOP, YOU WANKING NERD-FUCKER!” Richie screeched, running into the kitchen just in time and sliding across the floor on his grubby socks, attempting to grab the phone from Mike. Mike pushed Richie's stubby face and Richie got ahold of his other arm, suddenly chomping it with a force of a thousand suns. That kid practically had fangs for front teeth. “OUCH, YOU-”
Eddie heard more muffled sounds, and insults and brawl noises being thrown around. Finally Mike got shoved to the counter and Richie triumphantly held the phone tightly in his hand and a fork as a weapon in the other, slowly sliding down the wall as he spoke. His glasses somehow ended up beside him. Mike caught his breath, wiping sweat off his forehead. Richie's elfish face beamed.
“Hey Eddie Spaghetti, ya miss me?” He remarked, picking up his glasses and pushing them on, a visible flirty shimmer in his eyes. God, Mike thought, this is gonna be painful to listen to. Eddie sighed on the other end, and more faint hushed and crackle sounds occurred before he managed to speak.
“Yeah, of course I missed you dumbass. I'd tell you to use your head but it's clear you lost it.” The dark brunet muttered and coughed, an annoyed edge to his tone but no actual malice. Richie's tongue moved side to side inside his cheek and he brought one knee up to his chest, sighing happily. “Yeah, I lost it inside your mom.” He chuckled, clearly not talking about the head connected to his neck.
There was a pissed off groan on the other end. Richie cut in.
“Ah, relax! No need to miss me. I'll always be in your heart…and in your sheets.” He chortled and Mike physically cringed, standing up to go to the living room. He couldn't stand to hear Richie flirting with Eddie any longer or his brain would suffocate. He didn't even have to see Eddie rolling his eyes to know he was doing it. His voice slipped through again.
“You're such a crackhead. What're you doing over there anyways?”
Richie snickered. “Your mo-”
“Richie!” Eddie interrupted.
“Fine, I'm hanging out with a representative of failed abortions.”
“I can hear you!” Mike yelled, somehow magically appearing in the doorframe again. Richie lowered the phone and gave him a “shut up or I'm gonna throw tampons at your ex girlfriend’s house again” glare, and Mike's cheeks faintly burning with furious anger. “You little piece of shit.”
Richie ignored him and turned his attention back to the phone, dropping the fork on the floor with a metallic clank. “Why don't you come over! I'm getting awfully lonely, señor.” He cheeped, suddenly switching to a thick Mexican accent. Eddie sighed, the sound fogging through the telephone.
“I can't Richie. You're a whole town over! It takes at least an hour to get from Derry to Hawkins.”
Something faltered in Richie's expression.
“I swore to my mom I’d stay here while she's at work.” Eddie added. “Besides, there's nothing to do inside your house anyway.”
Mike should have told him to just get off the phone at that moment before the conversation kept dragging, but of course Richie just had to be his thick-headed self, he just couldn't resist. “Well, it beats being inside-”
*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.* Silence. Mike leaned on the doorframe, his shoulder lifting in a weak shrug and letting out a trapped breath. “You just can't control yourself, can you? That's your boyfriend out the window.” He joked with a straight face.
Richie stared at the phone, like it personally offended him by doing its job. He was quiet, unnaturally quiet, formulating a plan in his brain. Mike snapped his fingers and a small surge of concern flew around in his brain. “Hey, hello? Earth to Richie?”
The bug-eyed boy pressed his lips together and narrowed his eyes at Mike. The older teen crossed his arms. “What's that look for?”
That's when the younger boy bounced off the floor and stood in front of Mike, his stance bold and brave like he was sending himself on a grand quest. Then, completely without warning, he turned around and bolted for the door, his legs practically turning into hamster wheels before Mike even processed what was happening.
“Wha-HEY!” He called out, running after Richie who was already outside and heading to the driveway. “What're you think you're doing?!”
Richie snapped his head around, almost running into Mrs Wheeler’s car but halting to a stop just in time. Luckily for Richie–but unlucky for Mike–his mom had been picked up so her car was still set in the driveway. “What does it look like dumbass?! I'm heading to Eddie's myself!”
Mike was baffled and just speed-walked closer. “You can't do that!”
Richie tugged at the car handle until, by some badly timed miracle, it swung open. He hopped in the backseat and glanced at Mike, eyes filled with chaotic determination. His glasses glistened even in the foggy weather. “Watch me punk! Unless you want to drive me yourself!”
“I can't do that! I can't drive yet, and you can't either!”
“You're telling me a scrawny chicken like you beat a monstrous entity and you can't drive a damn car?” The little menace shot back, rolling down the window and hanging his arm out. Mike stared at him, the breeze pushing his side bangs out of his face. “You're telling me you beat a killer clown and you still don't have common sense??”
They stared at each other for a few uncomfortably long seconds, then Richie attempted to crawl into the driver's seat.
“Okay fine!” Mike cried out, face-palming himself. “Fine, I'll drive you, but if I get scolded for driving underage because you couldn't have any amount of human decency-” The rest of his rant dissolved into annoyed murmuring as he slipped into the driver's seat, firmly slamming the car door shut. Richie's wide toothy smile came crawling back.
“Thanks bug!”
“If you make any more jokes, I'm tossing you out of this car and some dingy mailman can adopt you.”
Richie wrapped his hands around his knobby scratchy knees. “Deal.”
Mike's fingers trembled on the button, and he hesitated to start the engine, every possible bad scenario rushing through his paranoid mind. What if they crashed? What if they hit someone? What if Vecna somehow-
“C'mon! It's not that hard!” Richie leaned in and punched his palm to the button, starting the car himself. The vehicle rumbled and groaned and started vibrating, and then there was no going back. His foot slammed on the squeaky pedal and the car launched forward, catching Mike off guard at first. The wheels squeaked once, then twice, and then started running on the crackled rocky road. He couldn't believe he was actually driving an hour to Derry for his little insect cousin to visit this Eddie, but he had seen and done stranger things. And he would have rather done this than hear one more gag about Richie's wang being inside someone's mom.
_______________________________________
After an entire 54 minutes of horn honking, random swerves, car smell, and Richie frequently yelling “Faster! Faster!”, they finally reached the house with the falling-apart gate and the rusty roof. Both of their heads were still on their torsos and Mike finally got to exhale as Richie almost collapsed and flew to the doorstep. Jeez Louise. His sneakers crunched the leaves and sticks stuffed in the soggy grass as Mike followed a suddenly hyper Richie knocking frantically on Eddie's old door. Mike halted to a stop near the steps.
The breeze blew twice in half a minute before the door creaked open, and a surprised tanned brunet boy stood there with his jaw hanging. “Richie?? What are you doing all the way out here??” He gasped despite his shoulders relaxing and another surge of concern ran through Mike as he remembered that Eddie had asthma. He expected Richie to say something, to fail at resisting to crack another joke or weird remark. But instead he just straight up grabbed Eddie by the waist and pulled him up, forcing a low squeak out of him and his hands scrambled for support. The ravenet peppered kisses on his boyfriend's face as he slowly stepped up the stairs creaking under the weight.
“Wanted to see you.” He said, pressing a sharp kiss to Eddie's jawline.
“A lot, a lot-lot.” Another kiss at the base of his throat. Eddie shuddered and blushed violently as they reached the top of the stairs. “You're insane, we just talked on the phone. I hung up for a freaking reason.”
“That’s not enough, I can't get enough of you and that voice!” Richie exclaimed in reply. “Perfect material for my midnight jer-”
He caught a glimpse of Mike giving him the look of pure disappointment, and just clamped his mouth shut like a goldfish. “C'mon, let's ditch that doormat.”
The two boy’s voices faded to silence as they raced towards Eddie's room. Mike ran inside, leaning past the doorframe. “Hey-you promised it would be just a quick-” the rest of the sentence died out in his throat, being replaced with a ragged sigh. “Of course.” He muttered.
Adruptly, the house's telephone rang, the huge piercing metallic sound doing very little to submerge the giggles upstairs. The older teen let it ring for a few seconds, then betrayed his inner thoughts and ran to pick it up, grabbing the wire firmly in his hand as he spoke. “Hello?”
The woman's voice on the phone wasn't one that he recognized, it was sweet but stern at the same time. “Eds hon? I'm almost done with my shift, did you take your inhaler?” Mike froze as still as an ice statue. What was he supposed to say? He could go grab Eddie from upstairs or just hang up the phone or turn himself in, but the woman on the other end magically caught on before he could say it himself.
“Wait a damn minute- You're not my son!! Who are you?! Where's Eddie and what are you doing in my house?! I'm calling the-” The voice shrieked, fissuring through the end of the telephone, and the phone slammed back onto the rack with a quick *CLACK*, the threat remaining unfinished. Mike caught his breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, an irritated noise rumbling in his throat.
Boy, he was in a lot of trouble now, all because of his blithering idiotic turd of a little cousin. The kitchen light buzzed and the clock ticked, and slowly but surely, Mike felt a simper curving on his lips. Because as much as he hated Richie, it was somewhat worth it on a certain level to see him happy. To see him smile and laugh and excited about something other than making fun of people's body count. He made three mental notes at that moment.
Never pick up the phone at a semi-stranger’s house, never try to get verbal revenge against Richie Tozier, and always remember that a loser's power should never be underestimated, especially when it involves their own soulmate.
The bite mark on Mike's arm ached and stung. Oh, and store emergency muzzles. Sweater sleeves were never trustworthy.