Archive of Our Own ^beta

Richie’s halfway to Wingstop when Eddie calls him, and he once again wonders what goddamn magical mind powers his dearly beloved must have to know exactly what Richie’s going to do even when Eddie’s stuck at work before he answers on the third ring with a, “Yellow.”

“Yellow? Are you twelve?”

“Definitely not, Eddie my love,” Richie pauses, glancing at the time and furrowing his brow. “What’s up? Everything okay? It’s a little early for your lunch.” Like clockwork, Eddie usually takes his lunches at one in the afternoon every day - the one time he took it at one-twenty, he called Richie to rant for thirty-five minutes of his hour break about his co-workers, and even though Richie doesn’t always follow Eddie’s line of thought, he loves that man with his entire being, so he listened and went oh, yeah, eds, fuck ‘em every time Eddie paused to breathe.

“Everything’s fine,” Eddie says quickly, and then sighs. “Well, ugh. Okay. I have a really big favor to ask you.”

Richie waves at the vendor of the falafel stand that he sees every time he’s in town as he makes his way past, furrowing his brow when he processes Eddie’s words. “Okay, shoot.”

“I know this is a lot to ask you, especially if you have plans already today,” Eddie begins, and Richie can practically hear Eddie gnawing on the inside of his cheek in worry, “but do you remember how I was going to leave early today?”

Richie thinks back, snapping his fingers. “Oh, yeah, right. Something with Frankie’s prison sentence, right?”

“His school, thank you very much,” Richie can see Eddie’s eyeroll as clear as day. “But- okay, yeah. Today’s First Friday and he’s getting out of school early, but of fucking course, today of all days is the day I get swamped at work at the last possible second-”

“-what the hell is First Friday?”

“-it’s a Catholic thing, where they receive communion-”

“-man, you’re barely even Catholic, I still don’t get the-”

“-Rich. So not the point,” Eddie says in his dad voice, and Richie quiets instantly, feeling like he’s about to be sent to his room for the night. “But- listen, if you’re not busy, would you….you know, would you be able to pick Frankie up for me? I know that’s a lot to ask, and if you’re not comfortable, I can either bring him here or ask his mother, but-”

“Dude, Eds,” Richie says instantly. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

Eddie sighs a breath of relief. “Really, Rich? Are you sure?”

Richie still never knows what to make of these moments: the times when Eddie seems almost confused about the fact that Richie doesn’t mind helping him out with Frankie, the fact that Richie genuinely likes hanging out with the kid. He’s tried to ask him about it, but every time he does, Eddie always gets that worried look on his face, always looks so nervous, and it breaks Richie’s heart every time.

“I’m twenty-thousand percent sure,” Richie says genuinely. He bites his bottom lip once he reaches the Wing Stop, deciding to wait outside to finish the call before heading in, and he says, “I mean- do you want me to just bring him back to the apartment, or could I, like…you know, hang out with him?”

“Hang out?”

“Get him something to eat, maybe take him somewhere,” God, this part feels so fucking awkward. “I’ve been wanting to just hang out with him one on one like we’ve talked about. But if- you know, if-”

“I’d love that,” Eddie says a little breathlessly. “Yeah, that’s- that’d be really nice, I think. I know Frankie would probably want to hang out with you over me, anyways.”

“That’s not true,” Richie laughs; Eddie tsks.

“He likes you,” Eddie says, and there’s something warm that twists in Richie’s gut when he hears Eddie say that, a line of thought popping into Richie’s brain once again, that question that he’s been dying to ask, the picture in his mind of the future he wants to have with not just Eddie, but Frankie too, more than anything else. “But Rich, don’t spoil him or anything, okay? And, um. Please just…watch out for him, pay attention.”

“Of course, Eds. You know I’d never let anything happen to him, right?”

“I know,” Eddie murmurs seriously. “I know you wouldn’t.” And Richie knows Eddie does, and again, Richie doesn’t really know what he did to deserve all of this, all of this trust and love, but he knows he never wants to do anything to break it.

“When does he get out of school?”

“Noon.”

“Alright, cool. Hey, do you know what flavor of wings he likes?”

“Wings?”

“They’re commonly found on birds, are a very delicious delicacy in the United States-”

“Asshole,” Eddie bites back, and pauses, screeching out, “Wait, is that what you’re doing right now?”

Richie blinks. “No.”

“Dude, who gets wings at eleven am?! Do you know how bad that is for your gut health-”

“My gut is in tip top shape, Eddie-kins; it’s only on the nights when you get a little bossy and decide to rearrange-”

“Okay, I’m hanging up now,” Eddie says quickly, and then, after a moment, “Thank you, Rich. Seriously, I mean it. And if- you know, if anything happens, please call me, okay? I should be done here in a little while.”

“I got this,” Richie laughs. “I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you too, so much,” Eddie replies softly. A pause. “But seriously, who in the fuck eats wings in the morning, I don’t understand what goes on in that head of yours-”

“You’re so sweet to me, baby dear,” Richie says with an exaggerated sigh. “I literally swoon when you get all take charge with me.”

“Whatever, just- go and have fun with Frankie, okay?”

“You bet.”

—

Once Richie actually gets across the street from Frankie’s school, he once again can’t help but wonder why Eddie sends the kid here in the first place; it looks all prestigious and high-strung even more so in person, and Richie feels out of place even from all the way out here. 

About five minutes later, Richie sees kids filtering out of the front doors of the school; some dash to the line of cars in the front, others head down the sidewalk, and Richie tries to peer over the dozens of heads to see if he can spot Frankie, until he finally sees him coming out of the front doors, walking alongside two other kids.

One of the kids is speaking to Frankie in what looks (at least to Richie) like fluent sign language, and Richie’s heart warms at the sight. Eddie’s told him a lot about how difficult it was for Frankie to make friends when he started going to school - not because he’s shy or anything, Richie’s learned real quick that Frankie is pretty extroverted, but because a lot of kids, in Eddie’s words, just ignored him.

Frankie gives a fist bump to his friends and laughs at something one of them says, and as the other two kids are walking away into the throng of uniformed kids on their way home, Frankie looks up, staring across the street.

Richie holds up his arm and waves to him; Frankie waves back, actually jogging over after double-checking that it’s safe to cross (because, he’s still Eddie’s son in every single way, as Richie fondly realizes time and time again), and walking over.

“Hey, man!” Richie says, holding out his fist; Frankie bumps it, smiling up at him. “Nice to see you on the outside.”

“Hey,” Frankie says, looking down at the paper bag Richie’s cradling to his side. “What’s that?”

“That,” Richie tells him, showing off the bag, “is lunch, my man. I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got you half lemon pepper and half plain. I thought maybe we could go find somewhere to sit and eat if you’re hungry.”

“I’m starving,” Frankie admits, walking side by side with Richie. “Mass took forever.”

Richie raises his brow, looking down at Frankie as they walk down the sidewalk. “Wait, you actually go to Mass when you’re here?”

Frankie looks up at Richie, puzzled. “Yeah? It’s a Catholic school.”

“I just didn’t-” Richie blinks a few times, shaking his head. “I just didn’t know it was actually like, a church,” And because Richie’s always been so curious about how Frankie feels about it, he can’t help but blurt: “Do you like it?”

Frankie shrugs. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I’ve been going here since I was in kindergarten, so I guess I’m just kind of used to it.”

Richie doesn’t really know how to feel about that, honestly. It doesn’t seem like Frankie is upset or angry or anything, but then again, Richie didn’t always like school himself. None of the Losers did - one of the only good things about it was that it brought all of them together. And Frankie’s in sixth grade now, aka one of the worst possible years in all of school, so maybe it’s that.

“Well, besides Mass being as boring as I’d imagine it’d be,” Richie glances around to make sure no parents or hyper-religious Catholic kids are around him, and then breathes a sigh of relief when he realizes no one’s around them. “How was school?”

“Okay, I guess.”

Frankie doesn’t say anything more, and Richie doesn’t want to keep pushing, despite how curious he is about the whole private Catholic school thing, so instead, he decides to ask:

“I didn’t know one of your friends was Deaf,” he says, and Frankie blinks up at him. “I saw your friend speaking ASL with you.”

“Oh,” Frankie says, shrugging. “Oliver’s not Deaf. He’s a CODA.”

Richie stares at Frankie, and Frankie rolls his eyes, laughing a little. “Child of Deaf Adults. His parents and older brother are all Deaf.”

“Oh,” Richie says, tilting his head to the side. “Huh.”

“Uh-huh.”

They finally reach a small park with a playground, and Richie watches fondly when Frankie holds up his finger and tells Richie to wait, taking some wet wipes out of his bookbag and wiping down the handles of the park bench.

“Okay, now we’re good,” Frankie says, and Richie laughs as he starts handing Frankie his food. “What?” Frankie asks, a hint of nervousness showing in his gaze.

“Nothing, you just-” Richie shakes his head, smiling. “You’re so much like your dad sometimes, dude.”

Frankie furrows his brow. “Not really.”

Richie decides to drop it, having figured out over the past few months that Frankie and Eddie, somehow, don’t see the ways that they’re similar to each other and start to get quite annoyed when anyone points it out or starts giving examples, even though to Richie - and the rest of the Losers - it’s fucking clear as day.

“How do you like your food?” Richie asks as he watches Frankie dip one of his boneless wings into his ranch cup. “Good, right?”

Frankie nods. “My parents never let me get stuff like this, especially not on school days.”

“Well, your dad did question why I was getting wings before noon-”

Frankie furrows his brow. “Yeah, that’s weird.”

“-but your old man has his cool moments.”

Frankie narrows his eyes and doesn’t say anything to that, continuing to eat his wings.

“Were you doing anything today?” Frankie asks suddenly, licking the ranch off of the side of his palm.

“Nah,” Richie shrugs, leaning back. “I woke up, sent some emails, answered a phone call, went to Wing Stop.”

“What kind of emails?”

“Work stuff,” Richie says, looking over at the playground. “Manager stuff, nothin’ exciting.”

Frankie blinks at him, waiting; Richie glances at the kid out of the corner of his eye and quickly looks away - Frankie has an even more serious stare than Stan does, and-

It’s not like Richie doesn’t want to talk to Frankie, or that he’s under some type of crazy NDA where he can’t talk about work, but. It’s been a subject that he touches on infrequently with Eddie - the whole what’s next? conversation. How the commute from LA to Manhattan and their mostly long distance relationship isn’t exactly a good setup for the long term.

Richie would leave everything behind for Eddie if he asked him to. But Richie knows that Eddie will never ask that of him, no matter how many hits that Richie tries to drop about it.

They finish off their wings, and as they start walking back in the general direction of the next subway station, Richie glances down at Frankie, wondering.

“Was there anything you wanted to do today?” Richie finds himself asking. It’s not that he’d mind going back to the apartment and chilling there until Eddie gets off work, but he and Frankie haven’t really been able to do this before, again thanks to the long distance. Frankie has his number and texts him every now and then, mostly to ask him opinions on video games, really, but they don’t get to really hang out one on one, not as much as Richie wants them to.

He really likes Frankie, is the thing. He’s been dating Eddie for months and Richie knows without a doubt that Eddie is it for him, that he’s the person he wants to spend his life with, but Richie really likes hanging out with Frankie, too. He’s Eddie’s son, sure, but he’s a really cool and fun kid to be around.

Frankie shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Well, do you…” Richie shifts from foot to foot; he knows that Frankie is watching him with an almost amused little glint in his eyes, and he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, do you wanna hang out some more? Go somewhere?”

Frankie blinks up at him, tilting his head to the side. “Where?”

“Anywhere, man,” Richie tells him, opening his arms up wide to gesture around them. “We’re in the Big Apple, kiddo.”

“No one calls it that.”

“The world is our oyster,” Richie carries on, laughing at the scrunch of Frankie’s nose. So much like Eddie. “C’mon, pick something.”

Frankie thinks for a moment, turning to look up at Richie. He shrugs. “Why don’t you pick something?”

“Me?”

“I mean, I live here,” Frankie says, and Richie glances away for a moment. “You can pick something, I don’t mind. I just like being outside.”

Richie thinks for a moment, before nodding and giving Frankie’s shoulder a squeeze. “Okay, I’ve got an idea.”

—

Richie’s idea is the Museum of Natural History.

Frankie looks up at the building, frowns, and then glances back at Richie. “Here?”

“Yep,” Richie says, glancing back down at Frankie. “What, you don’t wanna?”

“It’s not that,” Frankie pauses, peering up at him. “I just didn’t know you liked this kind of stuff.”

“You wanna know something about me?” Richie asks as they walk up the steps together. “I’m kind of a nerd.”

Frankie gestures around his own eyes, and Richie laughs.

“Dude, it’s not just ‘cus I wear glasses,” Richie tells him. “They’re a staple piece.”

“A what?”

“Like- you know, an important part of my brand.”

“Oh,” Frankie tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes. “Like your shirts.”

“Exactly.”

“The ugly ones, I mean. With all the patterns.”

Richie puts a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Frank. My man. You wound me.”

Frankie shrugs, but there’s a smile on his face as they walk inside. Richie shows the tickets he bought online and as they pass through security, the guard smiles and says, in a kind tone, “I hope you and your son have fun.”

Richie’s eyelashes flutter, and can quite literally feel his brain short circuiting as he comes up with something to say.

“Oh, um,” Richie’s saying, laughing a little awkwardly, “We’re not- he’s-”

But the security guard is looking at the next person in line and Frankie is nudging him, trying to get him to move.

When Richie glances at him, Frankie doesn’t really give any indication he heard what the guard said - no scrunch of his face, no annoyed look, no overjoyed stare, nothing. Richie knows that it’s hard for Frankie to pick up on every bit of conversation with his cochlear devices, so he thinks Frankie probably didn’t even hear her in the first place, which makes Richie feel even worse about it.

Frankie doesn’t give him much time to dwell on it; he immediately walks ahead of Richie into the exhibit hall, eyes wide as he takes in as much as he possibly can.

Richie loves museums - there really weren’t any in Derry, especially not like this. He keeps thinking of Night of the Museum, laughing when he relays that to Frankie and sees the massive eyeroll the kid gives him.

“You know,” Richie tells him, standing shoulder to shoulder as they peer into the glass of one of the taxidermy displays. “People pay me to tell them jokes, kid. You get ‘em for free.”

Frankie turns his head to look up at Richie, face completely expressionless. “Lucky me,” he deadpans.

They make eye contact for one, two, three seconds before they both crack into massive grins and start laughing, Richie almost putting his palm on the glass to steady himself until Frankie points at him and whips his head around to pretend to look for a security guard.

“Come on,” Frankie laughs, beckoning Richie to follow him; Richie does, stopping to comment on the animals in the exhibits or to ask each other questions.

Richie learns that Frankie’s favorite animal are platypuses, which caused a three minute debate between them on the correct pronunciation of what a group of platypus should be-

(“Richie, it’s platypuses.”

“Dude, I swear it’s platypi.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“No!”

“Yes! Respect your elders, Frank ‘n Beans!”)

-until a staff member had gently told Richie that the correct term is, in fact, platypuses, which felt like a big fucking error on the English language in Richie’s mind, but Frankie had looked so smug and proud of himself that he decided to let him have that win. He learns that Frankie’s favorite dinosaur is the spinosaurus, mostly because he saw Jurassic Park 3 after his parents fell asleep and he thought the spinosaurus in that movie was cool, and will take no criticism of the movie itself.

Richie, in turn, tells him that his favorite animal is a tie between the great white shark and tigers, that his favorite dinosaur would probably be velociraptors, also because of the Jurassic Park franchise, but when Richie started to explain that the raptors in those movies weren’t accurate towards actual velociraptors, Frankie had just blinked at him a few times until Richie finally relented.

It’s really nice, hanging out with him like this. It’s another reminder of the fact that Richie probably doesn’t need to worry all the time, that he and Frankie get along so naturally with one another. And it’s weird - Richie’s never been around kids much, not until reuniting with the Losers, but it’s so easy with Frankie. He’s smart and funny and even in the months they’ve known each other, Richie’s been able to understand him much better when he speaks, whether it’s in ASL or out loud, to the point that they’re at now, where Eddie doesn’t always have to translate between them.

Richie wants it to be like this all the time, he realizes. To take Frankie out on a day like this, when he gets out early from school or on a weekend or something. To talk to him about his day at school, make each other laugh and simply just hang out.

“I haven’t been here in awhile,” Frankie says randomly as they sit side by side in the Ocean Hall, right underneath the giant blue whale display and among clusters of other groups watching some documentary on sea life.

“Really?” Richie asks, glancing down at Frankie. It’s a little harder since the lights are low here, but Frankie lets him know that he can still see his hands and hear him clearly. “Have you been here on a field trip?”

“Yeah, in third grade,” Frankie says, and then pauses, glancing at Richie before, “My dad took me here a few times when I was little.”

“Littler than you are now?”

“Seriously?” Frankie narrows his eyes. “I’m gonna hit my growth spurt. Everyone says so.”

“I believe you, shrimp,” Richie jokes, and laughs at Frankie’s eyeroll. He thinks about Frankie’s words and then tilts his head to the side. “He did?”

Frankie nods. “After I got sick,” he says. “We came here because I liked looking at the animal exhibits. And I think because I didn’t have to talk to anyone, and neither of us really knew a lot of ASL then.”

Richie’s always been insanely curious about that time period, right after Frankie became Deaf and when he left the hospital. Eddie gets understandably emotional when he talks about certain pieces about it, about the actual hospital stay and right after.

When Richie tries to picture it, his heart hurts for Eddie and Frankie - even for Myra, although Richie knows she wouldn’t want his pity. He thinks about how scared and confused Frankie must’ve been, how traumatic it was for Eddie for Frankie to have gotten so sick.

(“He almost died, Rich,” Eddie had said one night weeks ago; Richie can’t remember how they even got on the topic, but Eddie’s cheeks had started to redden, and he buried his face in his hands, hiding from Richie. “I almost- it was so close, and he was so scared, and-”)

“Frank,” Richie says suddenly, biting his bottom lip. “Can I ask you something? It’s- it’s kind of personal, though, so if it’s not cool, just- you know, let me know.”

Frankie shrugs.

“Do you remember what it was like? Before- you know.”

“Before I became Deaf?”

“Yeah.”

“Not really,” Frankie admits, shrugging again.

Okay, fair. “Yeah, sorry.”

“For what?”

“I mean-” Richie sighs. “I figure people probably ask you dumb sh- stuff all the time, and I don’t want to…you know. Make you uncomfortable.”

Frankie blinks slowly, watching Richie with that gaze of his that makes Richie think that Frankie knows and understands far, far more than anyone - even Eddie - ever gives him credit. Yeah, the kid’s almost eleven, but he’s insanely perceptive.

But there’s something about that look, almost as if Frankie’s saying you won’t believe what i’ve been through without actually having to say it. And Richie doesn’t really know if he wants to know, if he can take it - the idea of someone bullying or treating Frankie like shit because of his disability makes Richie’s blood boil in a way that reminds him of Derry all over again, of Henry Bowers and Pennywise taunting them.

“You’re not,” Frankie finally says.

“Okay.” He wants to ask more, but it’s the thought of bothering Frankie that makes him hold his tongue.

“I mostly just remember how freaked out my parents were after I got sick,” Frankie starts toying with his shoe lace, stopping after a moment to continue signing. “My dad especially. He told me he cried when he had to hold me for the spinal tap thing.”

Eddie had told Richie more than that. How yeah, he cried, but that he had broken down in the hallway outside the exam room after they were done, falling onto his knees on the hospital floor and sobbing into his hands. How Frankie had been so terrified and in so much pain from meningitis, clawing into Eddie’s arms and chest and screaming.

“Yeah,” Richie finally says, knowing there’s really not much he can say to all of that. “I’m…you know, I’m sorry, dude.”

Frankie shrugs again, turning his attention back to the documentary. “It’s okay. I don’t really remember a lot of it. I’m used to everything now.”

Richie’s always been amazed at how resilient Frankie is, how much Frankie’s adapted to the changes in his life - both from years before and now, having his whole world flipped upside down by the divorce. How Frankie doesn’t seem to hate him at all, even though Richie knows he played a massive part in Myra and Eddie’s divorce.

He doesn’t know how he’d handle it if he had to deal with so much at a young age. And when Richie considers the fact that Frankie was raised by two pretty anxious parents - and even though Richie loves Eddie, he’ll be the first to admit to that part - he seems to accept each change in his life.

Frankie refocuses back on the documentary; there’s a section on fish, and out of the corner of his eye, Richie can see Frankie smile thoughtfully.

“I like clown fish, too,” Frankie says randomly, and before Richie can ask why, he continues, “You know Finding Nemo?”

“Of course, dude, who doesn’t?”

Frankie laughs. “I always…” Even in the dim blue light of the Ocean Hall, Richie thinks he can see a faint blush on the kid’s cheeks. “Nemo and his dad kinda remind me of me and Dad, you know?”

Richie feels a sticky sweet sense of fondness - more so because that’s pretty fucking accurate, and it’s insanely adorable to see Frankie, who always jokes around and messes with Eddie, show yet again the fondness that he has for his father.

“That’s adorable,” Richie finds himself saying, watching as Frankie scrunches up his nose. “What?”

“Ugh, whatever,” But Frankie’s smiling to himself, propping his chin on his knees as the two of them continue to sit side by side, watching the documentary.

—

After the museum, they walk across the street to Central Park; Eddie had texted to let him know that he’d be home in about an hour or so, and since Frankie still seems eager to be outside, Richie figures it’s a pretty laidback way to pass the time.

Frankie keeps looking at his shoes, though, and it seems like there’s something on his mind. After awhile of not talking to each other, Richie’s more than a little freaked out that maybe he did say something to upset him, and after a few of Richie’s jokes fall flat, he’s about to muster up the courage to ask him what’s up, until Frankie surprises him by saying:

“Richie? Can I ask you a personal question?”

Richie gnaws on the inside of his cheek as he wonders what this could possibly be about, shifting from foot to foot as he says, “Sure, man. Shoot.”

Frankie stops walking. “Are you and Dad ever going to get married?”

Richie stops walking immediately, staring down at Frankie with wide eyes. “I- um-”

Frankie watches him, unblinking.

“Dude,” Richie finally manages to say, laughing a little awkwardly. “Really, uh- you know, you’re putting me on the spot here-”

“You don’t wanna marry my dad?”

“No! Man, no, that’s-” Richie furrows his brow. “Where is this even coming from?”

“I’m just curious,” Frankie says.

“Well,” Richie tries to think, rubbing his forehead. “Look, man. That’s a conversation for your father and I.” He doesn’t say it unkindly, but he’s definitely thrown off balance by the barrage of questions.

Frankie nods, and Richie thinks the conversation is over for now, something that he and Eddie might laugh about later but continuously give each other little side glances, that little hint hint, wink wink, nudge nudge that they’ve been doing for months, until Frankie says out loud, in a dejected voice:

“Is it because of me?”

Richie stops completely and stares at the back of Frankie’s head, this time not so much as awkwardly caught off guard as much as confused and, admittedly, a little concerned.

“What?”

Frankie doesn’t look at him at first, until he finally meets Richie’s eyes almost defiantly. “It’s because of me and my mom, right?”

“Frank,” Richie says slowly, frowning. “Frankie, that’s not it at all.”

When Frankie still stares at him, clearly not believing him, Richie drops onto one knee and stares at the kid, expression serious.

“Frankie, this isn’t really a conversation I should be having with you,” he reminds him, both respecting and becoming a little frustrated by Frankie’s groan - the kid is stubborn, but it’s in moments like these that Richie gets why Eddie gets so flustered. “But I want you to know that it’s not because of you at all, alright? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Something about those words seem to hit home for Frankie; he searches Richie’s gaze as though trying to gauge his sincerity, and finally gives a slow nod.

“Okay,” Frankie doesn’t usually ever let any of his more vulnerable emotions show, at least not around Richie, but in that moment, Richie wants nothing more than to hug him. But he knows Frankie doesn’t really like hugs, so he settles for giving him a smile and a nod, dusting off his knees as he stands up.

They start walking again, and Frankie says, so quietly that Richie almost doesn't hear him, “I’d be okay with it, if you and Dad got married, you know.”

“Huh?”

“My friend told me that usually people ask someone’s parents if it’s okay to marry them before proposing,” Frankie says, and Richie has half the mind to say that not everyone does that, and what the context is, until he continues: “But Dad doesn’t really have any family besides me, so…I guess I just wanted to say that I’d like it if you guys got married, since it’s just me and him.”

Richie swallows, unable to stop himself from asking, “Really?”

“Yeah,” Frankie nods. “Dad’s a lot happier with you. And I-” The tips of Frankie’s ears turn red. “I, um. I’d think it’d be cool, if…you know, if you were my stepfather. I’d want you to be.”

Richie feels his eyes watering, a massive lump forming in his throat.

He’s thought about marrying Eddie ever since Derry; he’s had the fucking ring picked out for months. And- it’s not because of Frankie specifically that he hasn’t asked, not at all. Maybe he’s still a little nervous that it’s too early to get married, that he and Eddie still have a lot of shit to figure out.

But just as much as he wants to be Eddie’s husband, Richie really wants to be Frankie’s stepfather. Especially over the past few months, the more time he’s spent with Frankie, the more he’s gotten to know him, all he’s been able to think about is how nice it’d be to be able to call himself that.

If I had a kid, Richie can’t help but think for the hundredth time, I’d want them to be just like Frankie. 

He knows he loves Eddie, of course - that’s as natural as breathing to him at this point. But Richie also knows that he cares for Frankie very deeply, that in all of his fantasies about the future and what it holds, he can’t stop himself from thinking about the three of them as a family.

“Thank you,” Richie finally breathes, sighing in relief. “You, um… You don’t really know how much it means to hear you say that, man.”

Frankie nods, and then, after a brief moment of hesitation, walks over and wraps his arms around Richie’s waist quickly; Richie barely has time to process before Frankie lets him go, a thoughtful smile on his face.

—

Richie’s not really sure how to approach the topic with Eddie about the conversation he had with Frankie; he thinks about doing it when Eddie gets back from work, but the three of them get caught up having dinner, and then watching a movie, and then Richie helps Frankie piss Eddie off during a game of UNO by making up new rules for the game, only to have Frankie throw him under the bus and make up his own rules and beat them both. He gets caught up in the time spent with them, and the conversation about marriage slips his mind until bed that night, after Eddie’s already showered and Richie’s getting changed and he turns around and sees Eddie in one of Richie’s old shirts and a pair of pajama bottoms a size too big for the shorter man, and it hits Richie again like a ton of fucking bricks that he doesn’t want anything else in life but this.

He wants to play frustrating games of UNO with Eddie and Frankie, to watch shitty movies until Frankie has to go to bed for the night. He wants to pick him up from school and hang out until Eddie gets home. He wants to be able to sleep beside Eddie every single night, not for a week at a time every couple of weeks or once a month like they’ve been doing.

Richie’s been thinking it over in his head - he knows Steve would be pretty annoyed if Richie up and leaves LA to stay in New York, but it’s not like Richie won’t be able to find work. It’s fucking Manhattan, of all places.

He doesn’t know how to bring it up with Eddie, if it should wait until morning, but Eddie’s knows him inside and out, so he of course notices that something’s up.

“Rich,” Eddie murmurs, padding close. “Is everything okay?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been staring at the wall for the past three minutes and not saying anything,” Eddie continues, furrowing his brow. “My rule for you is anything longer than a minute of silence means I should keep an eye on you, anything longer than two means I have to check in.”

“Okay, I don’t talk that much,” Richie jokes, but when Eddie continues to stare at him with that same, squinted look, Richie sighs, picking at the bed sheets.

“Did…,” Eddie blinks. “Did something happen today when you were out with Frankie?”

Richie looks over at Eddie. “What? No,” He bites his bottom lip. “Well, uh- okay, technically, yes, but it wasn’t like, bad.”

Eddie looks worried. “What does that mean?”

“I…,” Richie shuts his eyes briefly. “Okay, so. Frankie…uh. He sort of asked me something today, and I told him it was something that was between you and me-”

“Rich, you’re kind of freaking me out, here-”

“-he asked why you and I weren’t married yet.” The sentence hangs in the air for a terrifyingly long time; Richie forgets to breathe for a while, staring at Eddie’s shocked face. “Yeah.”

“Why would he-” Eddie shakes his head, “Nevermind, this is my son I’m talking about. Of course he’d ask you that.”

“To be honest, I’m shocked it took him so long to ask,” Richie has to admit - Frankie’s not exactly shy, and terribly blunt at times.

“Yeah,” Eddie hesitates, unable to meet Richie’s eye. “So. What…I mean, what’d you say?”

“I told him it was a conversation between you and me,” Richie murmurs, glancing at Eddie. 

Eddie nods. “Okay, that’s good.” Another beat of silence; Richie can see Eddie peering at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“I, uh…” Richie’s thought of how this conversation would go maybe a thousand times over the past months. About how he’d ease into the topic of marriage with Eddie, maybe take him somewhere nice and secluded. Plan a big proposal surprise with their friends, white horses on the beach, the whole goddamn nine yards.

But right now, looking over at Eddie sitting on his designated side of the bed, cutely fiddling with the bottom of the shirt he’s wearing, all shy and nervous, Richie quite literally can’t think of anything else other than how much he wants to marry this man.

Richie turns to face Eddie fully. “Eds, you know I’d do literally anything for you, right?”

Eddie looks at Richie, owl-eyed. “I would for you, too.”

“I mean,” Richie swallows, “Eddie, I really don’t…I don’t want to do this long distance thing anymore, you know? I want to be with you, all the time.”

“I want that too,” Eddie says, and Richie can see the fear come up, the worry, and before Eddie can continue, Richie cuts in:

“I know you can’t leave Manhattan,” he tells Eddie quickly. “That’s not fair to Frankie or you. I get it, so- why don’t I just move here?”

“Rich, your whole life is in LA,” Eddie reminds him, eyelashes fluttering. “You…I mean, Steve, your friends, your career - all of that is in LA, you can’t just-”

“Sure I can,” Richie says, shrugging. “Fuck it.”

He tries to joke about it, striving to make Eddie smirk or do a good-natured roll of his eyes, but Eddie frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, looking anything but amused.

“Rich, be serious,” Eddie tells him.

Richie sighs. “Okay, fine - yeah, it might not be easy at first, but man, it’s not like you live in the middle of Bumfuck, Nebraska or something. This is New York,” he stresses, complete with an exaggerated New York accent, “I can find work here, or travel back to LA every once in a while if they need me. And- look, Eddie, none of that matters to me, okay?”

“It should.”

“Well, it doesn’t.” 

“You shouldn’t have to move all the way on the other side of the US just for-” Eddie starts, but before he can go any further, Richie reaches over and takes his hands, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the back of Eddie’s trembling hand.

“Eds, stop that shit right now,” Richie says, a little firmly. “Why can’t I do that for you? Why should you have to give up your whole life, your career, your son, when it’s easier for me to just say fuck it?”

“I just-” Eddie’s voice wobbles, and he shuts his eyes; Richie feels his heart begin to sink. “I just don’t want you to resent me.”

“What?”

“If you move here,” Eddie mumbles, refusing to meet Richie’s eye, “you might realize that this wasn’t worth giving up your life in LA, and I just- Rich, I don’t want you to wake up one day and regret it.”

“Eddie,” Richie says seriously, squeezing Eddie’s hands gently. “Eds, baby. Look at me.”

Eventually, Eddie does. Richie almost wants to cry himself when he sees the dampness in Eddie’s eyes, the fear, and the realization that this is what Eddie has been so scared of, why the topic of marriage is something that Eddie’s always seemed so panicked about: he doesn’t believe that he’s worth making the move for, that he has too much baggage for Richie to handle.

“Eddie, I literally have not loved anyone the way I love you,” Richie tells him seriously. “Even when we were apart for all those years, I…I guess I was always looking for you, even when I didn’t even know it. Some short, flamboyant little man-”

“I’m not flamboyant.”

“-yeah, you are, but that’s not the point. The point is: Eddie, I’m head over heels for you. When I go back to LA, all I can think about is coming back here to be with you. I’m not worried about leaving everything behind in LA because none of it matters to me if you’re not there, alright? It’s not- I don’t think of it as like, a sacrifice, or something, because being with you and Frankie isn’t some sacrifice I’m making. I want to be here with you.”

Eddie’s watching him carefully; Richie can see the fear leave his eyes bit by bit at the sincerity of Richie’s words, the seriousness of his tone. Knowing that Richie truly means all of this, that he wants this.

“You and Frankie are worth it,” Richie reminds him, and at the mention of Frankie, Eddie murmurs:

“And you’d…you know, with Frank. If you’re going to be here, if you’re-” Eddie swallows, “-if you’re serious about wanting to marry me, you know that means that you’re going to be a stepparent, right?”

Richie’s heart stutters in his chest; he nods fervently. “I want to be that for him,” he tells Eddie genuinely. “Look, I really like Frankie. I know he’s…I know there’s so much shit with your ex-wife, but I want to be there for him too, you know? Help you out with him, and-” Richie shifts in the bed, feeling a little shy as he finally mumbles out, “-and to be…you know. A family. The three of us.”

Eddie sucks in a breath, and before Richie can ask if maybe that was too far, if he’s overstepping, Eddie tugs his hands out of Richie’s grasp, and cups his hands on Richie’s cheeks, pressing kiss after kiss on Richie’s lips, nose, cheeks, forehead.

“Wow, okay,” Richie laughs, blinking back his tears.

“You’re serious about this, Rich?” Eddie asks after a moment, his voice quiet.

“As a heart attack, Eddie baby,” Richie murmurs; at Eddie’s narrowed eyes, Richie softens, bringing up his hands to place over Eddie’s, bringing their foreheads together. “Yeah, Eds. I’m serious.”

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs, nodding. “Okay, okay.”

Richie blinks once, twice. “Did we just get engaged?”

Eddie pulls back a little, face flushed. “Did- did one of us actually say the words, or-?”

“I mean, it was kinda implied,” Richie points out, laughing a little. He lets go of Eddie’s hands and, before Eddie can say anything, gets out of bed and practically runs to Eddie’s side, dropping to one knee in front of the other man. “Okay, let’s do this proper, Eds.”

“Rich,” Eddie laughs, breathy and overwhelmed.

“Edward Kaspbrak,” Richie says, smiling at Eddie’s little eyeroll. “Will you marry me?”

Eddie’s freely crying now, sniffling as he nods over and over again. “Yeah, Rich, yes. I want to, I-”

Richie stands up and kisses Eddie; Eddie wraps his arms around the back of Richie’s neck, tugging him downwards and on top of him. When Eddie oofs when Richie loses his balance and almost topples on him, Richie laughs into their kisses, nuzzling his nose into Eddie’s jawline.

“I love you,” Richie tells him, voice overwhelmed with emotion.

“I love you too,” Eddie tells him, sniffling into Richie’s skin. “Oh my god, we have to- we have to tell everyone, right?”

“Yeah,” Richie laughs, moving so he can lay alongside Eddie.

“The Losers are going to freak out,” Eddie murmurs, and then, after a moment, “As for Frankie…”

“Frankie sort of, you know,” Richie shrugs. “He said he wanted us to get married.”

“Really?” Eddie asks, sitting up to look down at Richie. “He did?”

“When we hung out today,” Richie murmurs. “He said he’d be cool with it.” That he wanted me to be his stepdad.

Eddie is quiet for a few moments. “He really trusts you,” he finally says.

The thought warms Richie’s heart: the fact that Frankie actually trusts him, that he likes Richie. It still takes him by surprise, the fact that he’s been able to fit into Eddie and Frankie’s dynamic much more easily than he ever expected to.

“Yeah,” Richie murmurs, nodding. “That’s good, right?”

“Very good,” Eddie agrees, and then, wincing. “Fuck. You do know that this means you’re going to have to deal with Myra more, right?”

“Eh,” Richie shrugs. “She doesn’t scare me.” A pause. “Well, a little bit. But I can handle her - it’s a big fucking city, and I haven’t run into her yet, so.”

Eddie lays back down next to Richie; they’re shoulder to shoulder, and everything suddenly hits Richie full force: they just got engaged. Eddie’s his fiance now, and eventually he’ll be his husband, and Frankie’s going to be his stepson.

Richie has no fucking clue how he got to be so lucky, none at all, but he knows damn well he’ll do anything to keep this.

—

They’ve gone over a few times on how to tell Frankie about their engagement - Eddie says maybe they should wait, Richie thinks they should just come out and say it - but Frankie is insanely more perceptive than either of them give him credit for, so when he wakes up in the morning and sees the pair of them milling about in the kitchen, caught between a mixture of overjoyed and nervous, constantly glancing over at Frankie to check if he’s watching, Frankie slaps the table to get their attention, leans back, and says, pointedly:

“What’s going on with you two?”

“Nothing,” Richie says at the same time Eddie blurts, “We have something to tell you.”

Both Eddie and Richie look at each other, wide-eyed. Frankie huffs at the sight.

“Okay,” Eddie murmurs, leading the way to the breakfast table, Richie close on his heels.

When they take a seat, across from Frankie, the kid is watching them with a careful gleam in his eyes, head tilted to the side as he watches their expressions, their movements. Richie sometimes wonders where Frankie got that from: that ability to make someone feel like they’re under a microscope, being carefully picked and prodded at. Richie once again thinks that, for a kid that’s almost eleven, he notices so much more than anyone realizes.

“So,” Eddie starts, laughing a little awkwardly as he glances at Richie, and then back at Frankie. “So, um. Richie and I have been dating for awhile now, and…listen, you know how when two people really love each other, they start wanting to spend more time together?”

Frankie stares at Eddie, unblinking. Even Richie’s a little confused about where Eds is going with this.

“And Richie’s been staying here whenever he’s in town, and- you know, as time goes on-”

“Richie,” Frankie cuts in, looking directly at him. “Did you finally ask Dad to marry you?”

“Yep,” Richie says, and Eddie splutters, looking between the two of them.

“Excuse me, I was in the middle of-”

“Dad, I didn’t get what you-”

“Yeah, Eds, I mean, you were kinda confusing-”

“I was leaning into it,” Eddie stresses, leaning back in his seat. “But yes, Frankie, yeah. Richie asked me to marry him.”

Frankie nods, and then looks at his father, eyes fixed on his face. “You said yes, right?”

“Yeah, did you say yes?” Richie asks, grinning at Eddie’s widened eyes.

“You two need to stop doing that,” Eddie tells them, but laughs, nodding at his son. “Yes, Frank, I said yes. Richie and I are getting married,” After a beat of silence, his expression softens a little, his voice lowers, “Is that okay, Frankie? It’s- yeah, there’s going to be some changes, but nothing major, okay? I promise.”

Frankie blinks, and then nods. “It’s fine, Dad,” he says, and then laughs a little bit. “I mean, everyone was asking me why it was taking so long.”

“Everyone?” Eddie asks, blinking. “Who is everyone?”

“Wren and Ava,” Frankie says, thinking. “Some people at school. That lady who lives down the hall. Everyone.”

“Whatever,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling at Frankie, gripping Richie’s hand tight under the table. “Thank you, Frankie. It really means a lot to me that…you’ve been so good about everything, you know? All the changes, and- well, it just means a lot.”

Frankie nods, and then looks between them. “Can we have breakfast now? I’m starving.”

“I’ll even make your favorite,” Richie tells him, laughing when Frankie does an exaggerated fist pump. “Extra blueberries and all, bro.”

“Awesome.”

—

In the afternoon, Frankie finally manages to convince Eddie to take him to the Nintendo store, continuously saying, “But, Dad, it’s a special day, it’s your special day.”

“Why would my special day involve me taking you to a store to spend money on video games for you?” Eddie asks.

Frankie shrugs. “Well, you don’t have to. Richie has money, too.”

“Franklin-”

“Man, you gotta give it to ‘em,” Richie laughs as they make their way into the store, watching as Frankie immediately leaves their side and goes over to look at the displays. “He’s a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to say it.”

“He’s certainly something,” Eddie says, watching his son go through the different games, picking up one, and then two, and then has a stack of five before either of them can blink. “And he’s not getting all of those. I told him he can get one.”

“I’ll buy one, you buy one,” Richie says, and then Eddie holds up a finger, glaring up at him.

“Rich, you cannot spoil him,” Eddie tells him, although Richie can tell that there’s no bite to Eddie’s words, that he seems amused more than anything else.

After a while of watching Frankie, Eddie asks in a voice so quiet Richie almost doesn’t hear him, “Do you think he’s okay? You know, with…”

“Eddie, you heard him this morning,” Richie points out, not unkindly. “The kid’s been practically counting the days down himself.”

“I know, I know,” Eddie murmurs, frowning. “But he’s- he’s still so young, and I’m just…you know, I’m worried.”

“About?”

“About…,” Eddie bites his lip, letting out a deep sigh. “I just worry about how people are going to react, you know? At his school, or in life.”

Richie furrows his brow. “Has he said anything about school? About- if it’s been different for him there, or anything.”

“He changes the subject whenever I ask him,” Eddie murmurs, shifting from foot to foot. “Myra made some comment a few months ago, though, and it just- it bothers me, sometimes.”

“What comment?”

Eddie frowns. “She said one of the other mothers told her how sorry she was for Myra. About how everyone knows about it, something like that.”

Richie sucks in a breath, looking over at Frankie. Frankie’s busy weaving between the throngs of people, stopping to look at a Pikmin section; he’s not even looking at them, completely preoccupied.

“That…” There’s so many things Richie wants to say to that, so many things he wants to ask. A lot of it centers around the question of why Frankie even goes to a Catholic school still in the first place, if it might be better for him to go to a public school or a school for the Deaf, or something - and the other half of it is wanting to talk about Myra, to tell Eddie that maybe she should mind her own business, that they’re in New York of all cities, that there’s probably tons of kids that go to Frankie’s school, even, who have gay parents. That it shouldn’t fucking matter, that Frankie shouldn’t have to deal with any of it. 

He settles for: “That fucking sucks.”

Eddie nods and doesn’t say anything else.

Richie waits, and then, “Eddie, I think…listen, Frank understands way more than I think we realize sometimes. It’s kinda freaky.”

“You think?”

“Yeah,” Richie nods. “And…listen, about his school. I mean, when I went to pick him up yesterday, he seemed alright. He has a friend that speaks sign language, even.”

“Oliver,” Eddie murmurs fondly.

“Yeah. And I don’t- look, I don’t really get the Catholic part of it, or the private school thing. But it’s not really my place to tell you where to send him, but…” Realization hits Richie then, and he straightens his shoulders a little. “I guess now it’s also my job to help you look out for him, right? More than usual. Talk to him, let him know I’ll listen.”

“Yeah,” And then after a beat, “I think he’d tell you if something was going on before he’d tell either me or Myra, anyways. You have a good rapport with him.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Eddie murmurs, and Richie smiles to himself, nodding.

Frankie comes back up to them with an armful of games and two plushes.

Eddie stares down at his son, eyes narrowed. “One game, Frankie.”

Frankie doesn’t budge.

Eddie stares at him, narrowing his eyes. “Fine. One game, one stuffed animal.”

Frankie shifts his haul to one arm so he’s able to sign to his father. “Two games, one stuffed animal.”

“No.”

Frankie thinks for a moment, glances at Richie, and then back at Eddie. “Two games, one toy, and I do the dishes tonight.”

Eddie grins. “If you throw in cleaning up your room, I’ll get you three games.”

Frankie narrows his eyes. “Fine.”

“Thank you for playing,” Eddie tells his son as Frankie picks out the three games he wants, along with the Toad plush he wants.

As Eddie goes up to the register to pay, Richie stops Frankie and holds out his hand; Frankie grins and gives him a high-five when Richie takes the remaining games and plush.

“Seriously?” Eddie demands when they’re outside the store and sees Richie hand off the bag to Frankie. “I already-”

“That was your deal, Dad,” Frankie tells Eddie. “Richie and I made our own deal.”

“I’m throwing in two nights of dishes now,” Eddie tells Frankie, ignoring his son’s groan. “Play stupid games and win stupid prizes, Frank.”

As they’re walking away, it hits Richie that he never actually made a deal with Frankie, and he leans over when Eddie’s back is turned to ask, “Wait, what deal, dude?”

Frankie grins wickedly. “You’ll know later.”

Richie mocks horror at his words, but as he walks down the street with Eddie and Frankie, watching the pair of them go back and forth in ASL, he realizes that this is exactly where he wants to be, for as long as he possibly can be.