Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s no shock that Mags and Went adore Frankie the moment they meet him. 

As soon as Richie picked them up from the airport that afternoon and brought them to the apartment, his parents practically lit up at the sight of Frankie. They’ve been talking about meeting him for months, but it’s only now that Richie’s mother and father have been able to come over to New York for a miniature vacation, promising to help Eddie and Richie with some of their wedding planning to take the stress off of them, and also to spend time with Eddie after so long, and to meet Frankie face-to-face.

They’ve seen him on Facetime a few times, and Frankie’s always politely smiled and nodded at them, but Richie knows they’ve been dying to actually meet him.

Once they enter the apartment (Richie, Eddie, and Frankie’s, as much as it makes Richie’s heart warm to realize), Richie can see Mags’ eyes darting around to living room to try and see if Frankie’s hanging around, and Richie laughs a little and nudges his mother lightly with an elbow.

“He’s probably in his room playing video games,” Richie tells her, and then, a little softer, “He’s not really a huge hugger or anything, Ma, and, um- you know, he might not talk just yet in front of you guys. So…don’t- just don’t take it personally or anything.”

“He doesn’t have to do anything he’s not comfortable doing,” Mags declares firmly, pinching Richie’s cheek between her fingers lightly. “What, you think I’m going to wrestle him into a hug? I’m saving that for Eddie.”

Richie laughs and shakes his head, giving his mother’s hair a light kiss. He’s missed his parents dearly; it’s only when the two of them are so close to him that he realizes just how much. “Let me go and tell him you guys are here. Do either of you need anything? Water, beer?”

“Definitely a beer,” Went says; Mags puts up two fingers, and Richie hoots.

“Now we’re talking,” he laughs, and helps his guide his mother to the sofa - stop it, richard, i can seat myself - before going over to Frankie’s room.

The door’s open a little, and so Richie hesitates for a moment behind the doorway before stomping a few times. He can hear Went and Mags in the living room wondering what in the world he’s doing, but it’s the best way to get Frankie’s attention without bustling into his room unannounced.

Frankie comes to the door a second later, brow quirked up.

“Now, could you tell that was me, or did you think it was your old man?”

“Definitely knew it was you,” Frankie quips back, shrugging.

Richie’s mind was a little blown the first time that Frankie told him how he could feel the difference between he and Eddie’s footsteps; Richie had no idea that the kid relied on feeling vibrations as much as he did, until one morning when Frankie had come into the kitchen and pointed at Richie, “You were up at three am, right?” and Richie had been a little freaked out, until Frankie mimicked loud stomping and continued, “You realize I could feel that, right? Tiptoe next time, dude.”

Now, Richie looks over the eleven year-old, shaking his head. “Whatever, man.”

“Are your parents here?” Frankie asks; when Richie nods, Frankie shrugs. “Okay.”

Frankie’s not exactly shy, but Richie can tell he’s still a little apprehensive as he follows Richie down the hall, and so, right before they get back into the living room, Richie turns and leans down, murmuring, “They’re really cool, I promise. They’re not expecting you to hug them or anything.”

Frankie glances up at Richie and nods, taking a moment to look into Richie’s eyes before a small, sly smile curls on his lips. “You’re nervous.”

“Have no idea what you’re referring to, little man,” Richie says, even though yeah he’s absolutely fuckin’ nervous, but it’s not like he needs Frankie to point that out.

When they finally make their way into the living room, Mags and Went immediately get to their feet, practically beaming at the sight of Frankie although they, to Richie’s relief, stay a little ways back, clearly taking Richie’s words to heart and not ambushing him yet.

“Hi, Frankie. It’s so, so nice to finally meet you face-to-face,” Mags says, and Richie notices that she takes the time to say her words slowly. “Oh, wow. Has anyone ever told you that you look just like your father?”

“The eyes and everything,” Went comments, and then, smiling at Richie, he says, “Although, I think he’s a little bit taller than Eddie was at that age, don’t you, Rich?”

And then, as Richie turns to Frankie, he realizes that this is the first time he’s ever had to actually translate for Frankie without Eddie here. Frankie usually doesn’t wear his cochlear’s when he’s lounging around the house, and Richie watches as Frankie - very amusedly, if Richie says so himself - watches with a quirked brow as Richie gives his all to translate anything that Frankie might’ve missed.

“Um,” Richie pauses, shuts his eyes and tries to remember how to translate a little taller. He tries his best though, heart stammering in his chest under the pressure, because even though it’s only just his parents and Frankie at home, it matters so much to Richie that he starts learning how to do this, to make sure Frankie doesn’t feel left out, that he understands everything.

He waits for Frankie’s answer after he finishes, and Frankie smiles and nods, grinning a little at Richie’s massive sigh of relief.

“Oh, wow,” Mags says in awe. “You’ve gotten so good at sign language, Richie - you must be fluent by now, right?”

“No,” both he and Frankie say at the exact same time; Richie looks down at Frankie, a little bewildered, before they both start laughing.

Mags and Went do too; he can see the warm way his parents look at him as he gives Frankie’s shoulder a nudge with his elbow, when Frankie nudges him back.

“And- you know, yeah, Eds and I were saying the same thing,” Richie says as they make their way back to the sitting area, Mags and Went sitting on the sofa, Frankie in one of the chairs and Richie in the seat opposite his parents. “That you’re taller than your dad was at your age, dude. You’ve started growing a little bit, surprisingly.”

Frankie nods and shrugs; he’s sitting in his chair, legs crossed on the seat and elbows propped on his knees as he watches Richie and his parents, dark eyes moving back and forth between them in that curious way that Frankie has about him, the way that always serves to remind Richie that the kid never misses anything, is always observing the people around him.

“So, how’s school, Frankie?” Went asks as he goes to take a sip of his beer. “You’re in middle school now, right? Sixth grade?”

“Dad,” Richie cuts in, gesturing to the beer. “You have to make sure your mouth is clear so he can see,” he reminds his father gently.

Went nods quickly. “Right, right - sorry, Frank, I’ll remember.”

Frankie glances at Richie, blinks, and then back at Went. “It’s okay. It’s just school.”

“Fair enough,” Went laughs. “Do you have a favorite subject or anything, at least?”

Frankie nods, “Math.”

“Really?” Mags says, smiling as she leans forward. “You know, Richie used to love math, too. Your father, on the other hand - if my memory is correct, I think Eddie hated it.”

Frankie shrugs. “That’s because he’s not that good at it.”

Went gives a full belly laugh, wiping at the corner of his eye as he looks over at Richie. “He’s pretty quick.”

Richie nods, sharing a glance with Frankie. “Oh, you have no idea.”

It seems like Frankie is at least at ease around Mags and Went; Richie knows it’s only the first time they’re meeting, but Frankie’s usually pretty good at letting Richie know how he’s feeling. He shares that with his father, since every emotion shows on Eddie’s face without fail, but Frankie seems relaxed. He nods and answers their questions, smiles and chuckles along with some of their jokes, and Richie breathes a sigh of relief as he realizes that it’s going pretty well, that Frankie seems to, at the very, least be comfortable around Richie’s parents, that he’s not rolling his eyes and asking to go back into his room.

Eds My Love Light of My Life ♡♡♡

How’s it going?

I’ll be home in about 10

Richie glances up as Frankie shows Went and Mags a sign, and then gestures to Richie; Richie smiles fondly, and at his parents looks, he says, “That’s how you say my name. Well, it’s my name sign, the one that Frank gave me, was it…” Richie tilts his head, whistles. “Woah. Almost a year ago. Time flies, huh?”

“A name sign?”

“Yeah, it’s- like, it’s a specific sign just for my name. Frankie made one for me; it’s something that only a Deaf person can give you.” Even after all this time, Richie’s heart still warms at the memory: he can still see it clear as day, remembers Frankie saying something to Eddie and then, at Richie’s furrowed brow, showing him the sign. When Richie had gotten a little emotional, Frankie had mimicked throwing up again, although Richie could tell that he was a little shy about it, a little nervous about the progression of their dynamic.

It’s going really well. I think he likes Mom and Dad so far

I know they already really like him, lol

And truthful to his word, a little under ten minutes later, Eddie strolls through the front door, barely having time to set down his briefcase and toe off his shoes before Mags is wrapping him in a crushing hug, laughing at Eddie’s little oof. 

“Oh, it’s so good to see you,” Mags is saying, kissing Eddie’s cheek.

“How was work, Eddie?” Went asks, waiting until Eddie’s able to untangle himself from Mags’ death grip before he tugs Eddie into his own hug, clapping his hand on his back. “What is it you do again?”

“Risk management,” Richie says, tsking. “And yeah, it’s just as boring as it sounds.”

“Hush,” Eddie huffs at him once he’s able to catch his breath, and then, a little shyly, stands on his tiptoes to peck Richie’s cheek.

“Awww,” Mags coos at the exact moment that Went takes a picture with his phone - with the shutter noise and flash still on, Richie notes.

“It’s really great to see you both,” Eddie tells them, trying to pretend he’s not blushing. “It’s been so long.”

“Well, you have a very lovely apartment,” Mags says, smiling as she continues, “And we had wonderful company, too.”

“I’m glad,” Eddie says, sharing a quick glance with Richie as he looks over to where Frankie is still sitting in his seat, silently observing the adults. “Hey.”

Frankie gives his father a little smirk and tiny wave, raising a brow as he watches Eddie’s expression.

Richie never knows what to make of it, the way that Frankie and Eddie are able to communicate with one another without speaking or using sign language - and it’s doubly insane to him that neither of them see it, that they pretend not to notice all the ways that they’re alike.

“You have a really well-mannered and funny kid, Eddie,” Went tells Eddie, clapping his shoulder again before he squeezes him into another side hug. “Do you think he’s taller than you were at that age? Because I swear, you barely came up to my chest when you were in middle school, you know-”

“Oh, that is so not true,” Eddie says with a wave of his hand. “I mean, I wasn’t that tiny.”

The Tozier’s just give Eddie a long, hard look, and Richie laughs when he sees Eddie flush again, shaking his head and muttering under his breath at the three of them.

They decide to order takeout since Eddie’s exhausted from work and Richie’s exhausted from navigating LaGuardia and the surrounding traffic, and Richie watches as his parents interact with Eddie and Frankie, the excitement on Went and Mags’ faces apparent. He thinks that it’s dawning on the pair of them that they’re sitting around Richie’s new family: his future husband and stepson.

He thinks he sees Went get a little choked up when Frankie shows him and Mags some pictures from one of Richie and Frankie’s outings: one from a few weeks back, when they decided to go to the Hudson River after Frankie had gotten out of school early. In the picture, Frankie’s making bunny ears behind Richie’s head, both of them grinning ear to ear. It’s one of Richie’s favorites of the two of them.

“I just,” Mags says, sighing happily as she watches the three of them. “I can’t believe you two are finally getting married.”

Frankie munches on a noodle, wiping his face with a napkin as he says, very boldly, “Did you know that Dad and Richie liked each other when they were kids?”

Eddie chokes on his water; Mags beams at Frankie.

“You know, we had an inkling,” Mags says, shushing Richie when he tries to interject. “Oh, come on, Rich. You know you didn’t treat Bill or Stanley the same as you did Eddie - it was always mom, eddie’s so cute, i love making him angry, he just looks so cute-”

“Okay, maybe- we all know I’ve always thought Eds was cute, but come on, you guys haven’t known since then.”

“You were pretty obvious, Rich. It was quite adorable, though, really,” Went says, smirking at Richie’s groan.

And then, Frankie: “So you were okay with Richie liking boys?” He doesn’t say it rudely - Went and Mags seem a little shocked that he decided to speak in front of him, but Frankie, knowing that Eddie probably would have chided him instead of translating the sign language, continues, “It didn’t bother you?”

Eddie sucks in a sharp breath. “Frankie-”

But neither Mags or Went are offended - and Richie isn’t, either. He admires Frankie’s bluntness, the fact that he’s not afraid to simply ask.

“Not at all,” Mags says instantly, honestly. “I mean - during that time, we weren’t a hundred percent sure, but we figured it was a possibility.”

“We’re happy that he and your old man found their way back to each other,” Went agrees, winking at Eddie. “They’re good for each other, don’t you think?”

Frankie blinks, looking over at Richie, and then his father, and after a moment, nods. “Yeah, I like Richie.”

“Well, we do too,” Mags says, looking a little emotional.

“And you know,” Went goes on, sighing as a distant, fond look crosses over his eyes when he stares at Frankie. “I just- you know, I know we all keep saying that you look like Eddie, and you do, but- Mags, he looks an awful lot like Frank, doesn’t he?”

Mags swallows, nodding. “He does. Frank had the same freckle, except it was under his right eye. Do you remember that, Eddie?”

Eddie’s eyelashes flutter, and he glances down at his takeout box. “A little. Mostly from pictures, but- yeah.”

“You knew my grandfather?” Frankie asks, dropping his plastic fork.

“Of course,” Went says; Mags nods.

“What was he like?” Frankie asks, leaning forward as he looks at the pair of them. “I don’t know a whole lot about him.”

Richie steals a glance at Eddie, just to be sure, but Eddie’s set down his own utensils and is staring at Mags and Went, expression unreadable.

“Well, for starters - your father got his height from Frank, that’s for sure,” Mags jokes, and at Eddie’s tiny scoff, she says, “Well, it’s true, dear. Frank was- gosh, he was…five-eight? Five-seven?”

“We used to call him Little Frank, since there was another Frank who went to our school - mean guy, twice the height of any of us, so that was- well, for the sake of your young ears, let’s just say that we called the other one Big Frank,” Went says, smiling fondly at the memory. “But he was a little shy at first, your grandfather. We used to joke that no one knew what he actually sounded like, since he used to keep to himself a lot.”

Frankie blinks, glances over at Eddie, and then nods.

“But- you know, he had a really good heart. Honest and kind, hard-working,” Went continues, sighing. “I…well, I was very fond of him.”

“Do you remember him much, Eddie?” Mags says in a soft, unbearably kind voice; Richie watches as his mother, very slowly, cautiously, reaches her hand over the dining room table to touch Eddie’s wrist, fingers featherlight on his skin.

Eddie glances at Mags, and then clears his throat. “A little. I remember he used to call me słonko,” Richie’s never really heard Eddie speak any Polish before, but the accent comes out effortlessly for Eddie, with barely any trace of awkwardness, as if he’d been practicing the word for his whole life. And, knowing Eddie and the way he felt about his father who he barely knew - perhaps that’s probably true.

“What’s that?” Frankie asks, brow furrowing.

Eddie spells it out for Frankie in sign language. “It means little sun. It’s Polish.”

“You know, I remember the first time Eddie came over to our house,” Went says, leaning back in his seat as he looks over at Eddie and Richie. “I think it was your seventh or eighth birthday, and you kept telling me that your new friend Eddie was coming over the house, and we had to make sure everything was safe and tidy or else he wouldn’t be allowed to stay over.”

“Oh, I remember that,” Mags cuts in, laughing. “It was so cute - Richie, Bill, and Stanley spent the whole afternoon cleaning Richie’s bedroom, just for Eddie to come over, walk right up the stairs and ask when the last time we cleaned the bed sheets were.”

Frankie huffs. “He still does that.”

“It’s important,” Eddie says indignantly, but Richie can see that he’s smiling.

“Hey, listen, I knew I had one shot to impress him,” Richie says, holding up his hands, palms out. “It was hard enough convincing Rabbi Uris to let Stan come over, you think- I mean, c’mon, we all remember Mrs. K.”

A look crosses on both Mags and Went’s faces at the mention of Sonia; even though Eddie snorts and tries to say that, once again, he stands by the fact that checking for clean bed sheets is an overlooked question when it comes to staying over someone’s house, Richie sees it.

And, of course, so does Frankie.

“You knew my grandmother too, right?” Frankie asks, and Eddie stops mid-rant, looking over to his son. “Grandma Sonia.”

Went glances at Mags, clears his throat. “Well, yes.”

“Sure,” Mags says with a bob of her head.

“Were you guys friends with her, like you were with my grandfather?” But from the way Frankie asks, Richie thinks that the kid already has a good enough idea of the answer.

“Did you guys want dessert?” Eddie asks after a beat of silence. “I think we still have some ice cream, if these two haven’t eaten it all.”

“I resent that,” Richie says.

“I don’t really remember her much,” Frankie continues as if Eddie hadn’t spoken at all. “My mom says she stopped coming by after I got sick.”

“Well-”

“Frankie,” Eddie says, capturing his son’s attention with a few light knocks on the wooden table. “They’ve had a long day.”

Frankie stares back at his father, narrowing his eyes. “You just asked if they wanted dessert, though.”

“What’s your point?”

“That you could’ve just said you wanted me to stop talking.”

“That’s not true.”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“Frankie,” Eddie says, expression firm. “Enough.”

“Uh,” Richie tries to cut in, but Eddie’s gaze snaps to him in an instant, effectively saying stay out of this without the words having to leave his mouth. And since Eddie in discipline mode is a terrifying sight, Richie takes the hint and snaps his mouth shut.

Frankie crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine, whatever.”

“Thank you,” Eddie grunts back, and turns to Mags and Went, expression softening. “So. Ice cream? Beer?”

“Well, both are fine,” Mags says quickly, blinking at Eddie.

“Yep, we’ll take both,” Went agrees.

After his parents give him that look, the you better get your ass in there and make sure your soon-to-be husband is okay look, Richie follows Eddie into the kitchen, dropping his voice to a whisper as he says, “So, uh, Eds. What’s- are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Eddie answers quickly, in a manner that says that he’s very much not okay. “Can you go and grab a few beers for me while I get the bowls for the ice cream, please?”

Richie does as he’s told, but as soon as he puts the bottles on the counter, he faces Eddie again. “Eds, c’mon, you- I mean, listen, I get it,” At that, Eddie looks up at Richie, letting the glass bowl in his hands hover inches over the countertop, “I get that- you know, we started getting into some heavy topics, and I kinda fucked up by mentioning your mom, but-”

“Rich, I’m not angry,” Eddie says.

“You…,” Richie shrugs. “I mean, you kind of seem- well, a little upset.”

“I’m not-” Eddie sets the bowl on the counter and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Richie, for the last time: I’m not upset. I just didn’t want to talk about her, especially not in front of Frankie.”

And because Richie can’t help himself, especially not when it’s something he’s been dying to know, he asks, “I mean…does Frank, you know…does he know? About…?”

“About my mother?”

“Yeah,” Richie says, flinching a little under Eddie’s hard stare.

“No,” Eddie’s voice is harsh, final. “And he’s not going to for a long time. Can you grab me the ice cream scoop?”

Richie starts to dig around in their cabinets, biting his lip as his fingers close on the handle of the ice cream scoop.

“He doesn’t know anything?”

“No,” Eddie repeats slowly, and Richie can tell he’s becoming a little annoyed. “Richie. This isn’t really a conversation I want to have while your parents and Frankie are in the next room over.”

“Alright, alright,” Richie says, handing Eddie the ice cream scoop. “I’ll drop it.”

But Richie can’t really drop it; after dinner and dessert, where Frankie is a little quieter than usual and Eddie is noticeably more agitated, after the three of them drop Mags and Went back off at their hotel with the promise of getting together tomorrow to do some pre-wedding errands together, and when Richie and Eddie are getting ready for bed, the question is still burning in the front of Richie’s mind, so much so that as soon as Eddie lifts the covers and slides into bed next to Richie, about to snuggle into his arms, Richie asks, “So Frankie really doesn’t know…you know, anything?”

Eddie stiffens, turning to look at Richie with a furrowed brow. “Seriously, Rich? I told you to drop it.”

“No, I said I’d drop it, and I said that because my folks and Frank were right there,” Richie counters, but when Eddie doesn’t smile back at him, he sighs through his nose. “Eds, I just- you don’t really…I mean, I know you don’t like talking about your mom-”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Eddie says, shrugging.

“-but, I mean, I didn’t realize that Frankie remembered her, at least a little bit. You don’t really talk about that time period.”

“And there’s a reason for that, Rich,” Eddie says, and his voice sounds so sad, so broken, that Richie feels like shit for bringing it up again. “I don’t like thinking about her. It’s not exactly a fun topic for me to bring up around my son, either.”

“I’m sorry,” Richie says instantly, trying to catch Eddie’s gaze. “I should’ve- I should’ve kept my mouth shut, I just didn’t-”

“I’m not angry with you,” Eddie stresses, sighing sharply. He sits up in bed, putting his face in his hands, and Richie instantly scrambles to sit up next to him, gently putting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. When Eddie doesn’t shake him off or get annoyed, Richie wraps his arm around both of his shoulders, gently guiding him towards his chest. “I’m sorry. This is so stupid.”

“It’s definitely not,” Richie says firmly. “It’s not like we’re talking about the Earth being shaped like a disc, with Antarctica being some sort of ice wall surrounding it-”

Eddie takes his face out of his hands, fixing Richie with a confused, shiny stare. “What?”

“Frankie and I watch a lot of stupid Youtube videos together when he’s home from school, don’t worry about it,” Richie says quickly, and when Eddie rolls his eyes and laughs, Richie sighs. “There’s my Eds.”

After a long while, Eddie murmurs, “There’s a lot of things I don’t want Frankie to know about just yet, not until… I mean, I wish he never had to, he’s too young to understand.”

And Richie doesn’t really know if that’s true; Frankie oftentimes seems so much older and more mature than any eleven year-old that Richie’s ever met, definitely more than he was at that age. He thinks that Frankie’s sort of had to grow up a little bit faster because of the divorce and the nature of it, and Richie knows that Eddie probably knows that too, but maybe this is one of those things that Richie just can’t understand, since he wasn’t really around for the end of Sonia’s life or the beginning of Frankie’s.

A question burns on his tongue, and before he can stop himself, Richie asks, “Are you ever gonna tell him about…you know, about Derry, Eddie? About ‘89 and last year?”

Eddie shuts his eyes. “I don’t know if I should.”

Richie blinks, but before he can say anything, Eddie continues, “I know he wants to know. But there’s that part of me that thinks he won’t believe me if I do tell him. That if I told him about Pennywise and about what happened, he’ll get mad and think I’m lying to him, that I’m making up a story so I won’t have to tell him the truth. And the fucked up part is that I think I’d be fine with that, if Frankie just thinks it’s a scary story and that it isn’t real, that he doesn’t know that these sort of things exist in the world, you know?”

And, to be honest, Richie does kind of get that. With Sonia, he knows he’s lucky enough to never understand what it’s like to have a parent like that - especially after today, he’s counting his blessings with having good parents like Mags and Went. But with the clown, Richie understands where Eddie is coming from.

He knows that Stan says that he still doesn’t know himself if he’ll ever tell his daughters and unborn baby Urine about Pennywise, although Richie understands that Stan, especially, has it much more complicated. A lump grows in Richie’s throat when he remembers when they all went to Derry together months before with the kids, when Richie, Bev, and Stan sat together in a room in Derry Home and Stan had said, with the most emotion that Richie’s ever heard from the man that he’s known and loved since he was three, “I can’t tell my daughters that I almost…that It made me so scared I almost… I can’t do that to them. I won’t.”

Maybe it’d be easier if Frankie never knows that when his father was a kid, just two years older than he is now, a demonic clown killed their best friend’s little brother and a bunch of other kids in their town, and twenty-seven years later, almost killed Eddie, was the reason why Stan almost killed himself. Or if he ever did know about it, he'd just think it was a stupid story that they all made up so that the kids would stop asking questions.

Richie can’t say for sure that he knows what’s the right or wrong thing to do in this scenario; there’s that part of him that knows, just as much as Eddie does, that Frankie is incredibly smart and very understanding, that there’s a big chance that he’ll believe every word that Eddie tells him.

But Richie doesn’t know how either of them would deal with that either, with Frankie knowing the whole truth about Pennywise, about what happened during the summer of ‘89 and in 2016. 

Why freak the kid out? is the eventual conclusion Richie finds himself coming to, although he doesn’t know for how long it’ll hold; for now, though, he reaches over and squeezes Eddie’s hand, presses a kiss to his fiance’s hair.

“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” Eddie finally asks, his voice so soft that Richie almost doesn’t hear him.

“Hm?”

“About…you know, with Frankie,” Eddie hesitates, shutting his eyes.

“You mean with the clown?” Richie gnaws on the inside of his cheek. “With your mom?”

“Everything,” Eddie murmurs, wrapping his arms a little tighter around his knees. “I just…ever since the meeting with his school's headmistress-” Eddie stops, sighs sharply. “No, that’s not right. Ever since the divorce, or hell, maybe even before that, maybe his whole life- I don’t know if I’ve been doing right by him, you know?”

Richie’s not really following, but if there’s one thing he does know, it’s that he thinks Eds is a good father, probably even a great one - maybe he’s biased, but he sees the way Frankie is with Eddie, sees how much the kid trusts him. Knows that Frankie’s had to deal with blow after blow after blow ever since the divorce, but the kid’s been handling it much better than most adults do.

And then there’s the line of thought that Richie has again, something that Bev had said a few weeks back over the phone when she asked Richie how Frankie was, and he let it slip about the meeting at his school: “I’m really glad that he’s been getting therapy; I worry about him.”

“You do?” Richie had asked, although he wasn’t sure if Bev meant in that new aunt way of hers, that i’m always going to watch out for him kind of way, or-

“He’s their only child, and it seems like…listen, I’m being as gentle as I can when I say this, but Frankie’s the one who catches the brunt of everything when the three of you-” And Richie had furrowed his brows, didn’t like being lumped in with Myra, even though he didn’t have time to argue as Bev continued, “-can’t figure out how to get along for his sake. And I know it’s a shitty situation on all fronts, for Frankie, Eddie and for you, and even for her, but…he’s just a kid, Rich. You have to look out for him. He’s too young to think that he needs to be the mature one, or that he should be keeping everything inside.”

And now, Richie glances over at Eddie, watching as his fiance stares into the fabric of their comforter, picking at the cotton between his nails, wracked with worry.

“I think you always try to do the best you can by him,” Richie says honestly, because that’s the truth: he knows that in his bones, no matter how much Eddie frets over it. “And…I mean, I know I don’t know much about being a father or anything, but the fact that you’re the one pushing him to go and talk to someone, that you give him the space to do what he wants, to voice his opinions, that you actually listen and talk to him - Eds, I think that counts for something, you know? And I know he loves you, that he trusts you.”

And then Richie hesitates, wondering if what he’s going to say next is too far, even though it’s already tumbling out of his mouth before he can stop himself, “You’re not Sonia, Eddie. You know that.”

Eddie stares at Richie with wide, glistening eyes; Richie stares back, concerned that maybe he overstepped, until Eddie swallows and bobs his head, voice shaking, “Thank you, Rich.”

Riche breathes a sigh of relief, opening up his arms; Eddie takes the hint immediately and crawls over, resting his head against Richie’s chest.

After a while, Eddie presses a kiss to Richie’s jaw and murmurs, “You know that’s not true, though.”

Richie furrows his brow, wondering why in the world Eddie keeps trying to convince himself that he’s a bad parent, until Eddie continues, “About you not knowing much about being a father.”

Richie sucks in a breath, unable to move. “Huh?”

“You do a really good job with Frankie,” Eddie murmurs, and Richie’s heart thumps against his ribs. “Rich, I just… I just want you to know that I want you to be that for him, you know?”

And god, Richie does too, although he finds that when this particular topic comes up, for once, it’s hard for him to find the words: about how sometimes, when he’s hanging out with Frankie and talking to him, whether they’re going out in town and doing something, or simply relaxing together and watching television, all he can think about is how lucky he is to have this, about how much fun he has with Frankie. About the fact that he wants to see all of Frankie’s milestones - he wants to be there when he graduates high school, when he gets his first car, and goes to college. How he’ll want to see Frankie get married and have his own kids. 

About how sometimes, when Frankie turns to get his attention, Richie wonders if Frankie will call him Dad instead of his name.

“You do?” Richie finally asks, although it’s obvious, Eddie’s always said that.

“I do,” Eddie says easily, simply.

“Eds, you know that I…” Richie swallows. “You know that I think of him like my own, right? I know he’d probably rip on me for that, but he’s not just…I don’t really think of him as just being my fiance’s son or anything. You get what I’m trying to say?”

“I know,” Eddie murmurs, his voice breathless and happy. “I understand.”

And Richie will wait for Frankie to make the first move, of course; he knows that they get along really well, but he doesn’t want to push too much, knows that he’d understand if Frankie isn’t there yet. Frankie’s already going through enough as it is, and he’s still so young, but Richie still hopes that one day, that Frankie will not just think of him as his father’s husband, but as an additional parent, too.

—

Eddie has to work the next day - back to your stuffy old office, mr. k, and Frankie had grinned and shooed Eddie away and out the door - so Richie decides to ask Mags and Went to join him and Frankie for some of the errands that Eddie wants him to run for the wedding.

When Richie asks Frankie if he wanted to come and if it was cool if he could bring his parents, Frankie furrows his brow and looks Richie up and down.

“You actually want me to come and help you with…you know, the wedding?” The kid seems bewildered, like he didn’t realize that his opinion mattered.

“Of course, little man,” Richie says. “You do realize you’re like, in the wedding, right? Like a major character?”

Frankie shuffles his feet and glances away, suddenly a little shy. “Oh. Yeah, okay. That’d be cool.”

Richie’s a little concerned, although in that moment he just nudges Frankie’s shoulder with his own and tells him to go and get ready, because it seems almost like Frankie had assumed that he wouldn’t really matter. That Eds and Richie would’ve just told him to go and stand in the corner for the night, that he’d be sitting in the back row and join for some pictures, but then would have to go back to his mother’s house, or something.

Mags and Went are eager to help - our baby’s getting married, they both keep saying, and every time Frankie sees one of them call Richie their baby, he does the sign for baby and makes a pouty face at Richie whenever he catches his blush, just to be a little shit - and Richie’s thankful for the fact that they don’t seem to mind that the tasks for the day are pretty boring.

Like, for example: flowers. 

Eddie has a list of flowers that he keeps pretending like he cooked up, but Richie knows that Mike and Bill were the ones who recommended them all, and Mags and Went both seem eager to go with Richie and find the best florists and bouquets for them.

“Roses are the obvious first choice,” Mags says, eyes lighting up at the sight of the displays. “Oh, now this is just gorgeous. Do you like flowers, Frankie?”

Frankie glances up at her, looking back at the displays and shrugging. “They’re okay.”

Mags barks out a laugh, smiling at him. “For an eleven year-old boy, I think that’s a pretty massive compliment,” and Frankie’s lips quirk up a little in his own smile, his shoulders relaxing.

“Now, Eddie says he wants roses, of course, good choice, peonies, hydrangeas, lilies, tulips….oh, now look at that, he put right here at the bottom: sunflowers, maybe,” Went murmurs, adjusting his glasses as he squints down at the list. “I vote for the sunflowers.”

“It’s not a vote, Dad,” Richie laughs. “And I’m sure that was Mike’s suggestion; that whole list is from Bill and Mike, don’t let Eds’ chickenscratch fool you into thinking he’s the big brains behind the flower operation.”

“I like these,” Frankie says, gesturing to some little white blooms in one of the display bouquets.

“Those are Baby’s Breath,” Mags says with a giggle. “They’re filler flowers, Frankie.”

Frankie quirks up a brow at Mags. “Well, I like them. They’re small.”

“Like you,” Richie says instantly, and Frankie rolls his eyes, huffing. “I can totally make you a bouquet of those, dude. You know what, come to think of it, you should probably have your own bouquet, right? For when you walk down the aisle.”

At Frankie’s questioning look, Richie continues, with a massive grin on his face, “What, your old man didn’t tell you? You’re gonna be the flower girl, little dude. Oh, it’s gonna be so cute.”

Frankie shakes his head, crossing his arms in an X shape over his chest and mouthing, when Mags and Went look away, “Fuck no.”

And even though kids cursing is so hilarious to Richie, he knows Eds would kill him if he let that slide, so he just goes, “Language, dude,” although he can’t stop the laughs from coming out.

“Who’s gonna be the real flower girl, anyways? Is it Wren or Ava?” Frankie asks after a moment, and Richie walks with him down one of the store aisles, trying to find not only the flowers that Eddie’s asking for, but the right colors, too.

“Wren,” Richie answers. “You know, I thought it’d be a big fight between them, but apparently Ava didn’t really want to do it.”

It’d actually been a little more interesting than that: after Stan and Patty had stopped getting emotional at the fact that Richie and Eddie had insisted that one of their kids be the flower girls, when they’d asked, Stan had said that apparently Ava had scrunched up her nose and said she didn’t really want to be the flower girl, that she’d asked her parents if she had to wear a dress at all, or if she could maybe wear something different. How her eyes had lit up at the idea of wearing a suit and she’d asked if she could do so - which Stan, Patty, Richie, and Eddie had eagerly said yes too.

When Richie had looked at Stan, both he and Patty had shrugged and said, “If something comes out from that, she’ll have our support,” and he and Eddie had awed at the two of them.

“That’s ‘cus she’s smart,” Frankie says, and then, “I like these flowers, too.”

Richie furrows his brow. “That’s Queen Anne’s Lace, bud. Another filler flower.”

Frankie stares up at him. “So?”

After they make their way through a good portion of the store, one of the saleswomen being more than helpful in helping Richie figure out which colors go with what, how many different arrangements they should have - and holy fuck is there so much more that goes into flower arrangements than Richie had ever known, he didn’t even realize that people had so many different bouquets for different people in a wedding - and after she had, very shyly, asked for Richie’s autograph (which Frankie had narrowed his eyes at, watching Richie curiously), he thinks that he’s got a good grasp on the flowers, at least. Maybe.

He shoots a text to Mike and Bill with some pictures of the concepts that the shop has, and within minutes they both get back to him, Bill with a thumbs up emoji and Mike with a string of emojis and compliments, in typical Mike fashion.

“Okay, it has the Hanlon-Denbrough stamp of approval,” Richie breathes in relief, nodding. “Alright, good. Cool.”

As they make their way out of the shop, Frankie tugs on Richie’s sleeve and asks, very carefully, “Are Uncle Mike and Uncle Bill…you know, together?”

It still warms Richie’s heart to hear that Frankie’s taken to calling the rest of the Losers his aunts and uncles, even though no one was going to force it. He laughs at Frankie’s question, nodding.

“Yeah,” he tells him, and then, “They’re still a little shy about it, though, but- you know, it’s pretty cute.”

“Oh,” Frankie says, but he has a curious look on his face as they walk down the street together behind Mags and Went.

Richie watches his parents together, as Mags grabs Went’s arm and leans into his side, the pair of them seemingly enraptured with Manhattan and all of its craziness and chaos. They were more than supportive when Richie had told them that he was going to move here so he could be with Eddie and Frankie - his father had quite literally said about damn time, son, now you can stop taking so many flights - but he has the inkling that they both were happy about the fact that now they had an excuse to come to the city whenever they wanted to visit Richie, since he knew that they weren’t overly fond of LA.

“Richie?” Frankie grabs his attention, brows furrowed. “Can I ask you something? It’s kind of personal.”

Richie nods. “Go ahead, man, I’m an open book.” Except if it’s about your mom, your grandmother, a good chunk of stuff about your dad, and Derry. Those are no-go’s, little man.

“How…,” Frankie seems the most awkward that Richie’s ever seen him, cheeks pink and flushed, and avoiding eye contact completely as he uses simcom, “How did you know you liked guys?”

Richie coughs, punching his chest lightly; thankfully, his parents are still a little ways up ahead, so they don’t see him practically tripping over his feet at the question.

“Oh,” Richie says, clearing his throat. “Well, um- I guess I just…you know, when I was about your age- well, a little younger, I guess, but…I don’t know, man. I realized that I wasn’t really into girls; when my friends kept talking about girls they liked and thought were cute, I was busy looking at-” Eddie, “-you know. Dudes.”

Frankie nods, slowly. “But what about Uncle Bill? He was married to a woman, right?”

“Yeah,” Richie answers. He knows the surface level stuff about Bill’s marriage to Audra, knows that it wasn’t even a toxic or bad one, especially compared to Bev and Eddie’s, that their divorce had much more to do with the fact that Bill simply wasn’t the same person that Audra knew pre-Derry. From everything Richie’s heard, they’re still friendly with one another, to the point where Bill even said that they could invite her to their wedding if they wanted to, that he’d like for her to be able to meet everyone else.

Frankie blinks. “So is he like Dad, then? Did he really like men the whole time and didn’t know?”

“Well, no,” Richie says, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s not like Bill would care or anything, none of them would, but Richie’s never really had to explain this stuff to a kid before, even though he knows that Frankie’s pretty understanding - the dude went to pride with them, for crying out loud. “Bill’s bisexual.”

Frankie nods slowly. “Oh, okay,” He continues walking alongside Richie, and Richie breathes in a sigh of relief at the fact that the string of questions are over, until Frankie speaks up again, “Are there a lot of people who are like my dad? Who…you know, who got married to someone they didn’t like?”

Richie coughs again, looking up almost pleadingly to see if Mags and Went are close enough to save him - but they’re still a little ways up ahead, deep in conversation, and Richie knows Frankie won’t stop until he’s got the answers he wants.

Fuck. Okay, chill out - he’s an eleven year-old, not the damn clown or something.

“Well, it’s kind of complicated,” Richie says carefully. “But yeah. There’s a lot of people who don’t know who they like right away, who don’t figure it out until later on. That’s not weird, or a bad thing.”

Frankie moves his hands like he’s going to say something, drops them, and then furrows his brow before he finally blurts out, “I guess I just don’t really know how Dad didn’t know for all that time. He doesn’t like talking about it.” And again, Frankie isn’t being rude at all: he simply just doesn’t really understand yet.

It’s hard for Eddie to talk about, even with Richie; how decades of Sonia’s abuse had led to Eddie becoming so terrified of the idea of being anything other than straight.

“Well,” Richie says, frowning. “You should probably respect his wishes on that, bud. It’s a personal thing; he’ll probably tell you when he’s ready.”

“When I’m older,” Frankie repeats, as if it’s the dumbest thing in the world. “Right.”

“Sorry, man,” Richie says, giving the kid a smile.

Frankie doesn’t look amused. “No, you’re not.”

The annoyance takes Richie back a little; Frankie gets a little frustrated sometimes, sure, but Richie’s never really been on the receiving end of it before.

“Hey,” Richie says easily, smoothly, “I get it, okay? I know it’s frustrating, but this is a really personal subject for your dad, so if he’s told you that he doesn’t want to talk about it just yet, then I’m sorry, dude, but you should respect his wishes, alright?”

“But he tells you everything,” Frankie points out, a little annoyed. “He told you all about the meeting I had at school, about stuff with me and my mom. He tells the rest of the Losers everything about me, but I’m not allowed to know everything about him.”

And maybe Frankie has a point, although Richie knows that the clear difference is the level of maturity, the fact that Frankie really is too young to understand some things just yet, but Richie’s a little uneasy at seeing not just annoyance, but anger in Frankie’s expression, at knowing that it’s directed at him.

“Woah,” Richie says, stepping towards Frankie and moving to put a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, bud, it’s-”

Frankie rips his shoulder away from Richie and walks forward, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking towards Mags and Went.

Richie stares after him, hand hovering midair and supremely confused. He’s at a complete loss - he’s never really dealt with Frankie being angry at him, not like this. He’s seen him get mad at Eddie plenty of times, it happens pretty much every week that Frankie’s over, but Richie’s always been the one just watching, observing.

He doesn’t really even know how it happened: at one moment, they’re talking normally, and now, Frankie moves away from him and, as Richie catches up to him and his parents, refuses to even look at him.

“Are we close to the jewelry store?” Went asks, and upon seeing Richie’s troubled expression, frowns in concern. “What’s-?”

“Yeah, we’re close,” Richie murmurs, clearing his throat and watching as Frankie crosses his arms over his chest, refusing to look at him. “C’mon, I’ll lead the way.”

—

It doesn’t really get better once they’re actually at the store; Frankie is still refusing to really talk with Richie, just nodding his head every once and awhile, or shrugging.

And it sucks, because this is one of the most important errands that they’re gonna run today - not even Eddie knows about it, and Richie’s swore his parents and Frankie into secrecy this morning when he told them that he was going ring shopping for Eddie’s wedding band, since he wants it to be a surprise. Richie’s relying on getting as much of Frankie’s input as possible, but it seems like Frankie wants absolutely nothing to do with him.

Fuck, he thinks as he watches Frankie avoid eye contact with him and move to another display case, looking at his phone.

“Richie, dear,” Mags murmurs as she comes up behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Richie says automatically, and at his mother’s pursed lips, sighs. “Frankie’s pissed at me. I don’t- Ma, I don’t even know how it happened, one minute we’re like normal, and the next he’s refusing to look at me or talk to me, and I don’t really know what to do-”

Mags glances over at Frankie, and then back to Richie, blinking. “He’s eleven, Richie. He’s bound to be upset with you every now and then.”

And when Richie stares at her like she’s crazy, she continues, “Richie, I don’t think you realize how much that little boy cares about you. He’s going to be upset with you, maybe even yell at you, but that’s what children do sometimes; you had your moments where you wanted nothing to do with your father and I, and then thirty minutes later, you’re coming down the stairs and talking to us like nothing happened.”

“But I’ve never…,” Richie sighs. “I don’t know what to do, though. This really hasn’t ever happened before.”

“You wait until he’s calmed down, and then when he’s ready, he’ll talk to you,” Mags says simply. “He might act like nothing happened, he might talk to you about it - but, baby, it’s going to happen again and again and again, even when he’s an adult. You and Eddie argue sometimes, right?”

“You know that’s an everyday thing for us.”

“I meant real arguments, dear, not your usual banter with Eddie.”

“Yeah, we do,” And they’ve never really had a real, blowout fight, but they’ve come close a few times. And Richie sees Mags’ point before she even says it.

“Just let him cool down,” she murmurs, and then glances as Frankie starts to wander over to them, practically dragging his feet. “Oh, look.”

“I think I found something that Dad would like,” Frankie says, shrugging his shoulders. “If you wanted to look. If not, that's cool.”

“No, show me,” Richie says, breathing a sigh of relief. He follows Frankie over to the other counter and points to a simple, dark silver band; Richie looks it over and can immediately envision Eddie with it, knowing that Eddie didn’t really have much requests or inputs for his ring except that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go with gold again.

“I like it,” Richie says, smiling over at Frankie hopefully; Frankie looks over at him and nods, but Richie can see one corner of his lip upturning in a smile. “I thought you said you didn’t have a clue of what your dad likes, man.”

“I don’t,” Frankie says stubbornly, but now he’s smiling a little bigger. “I just thought it looked cool, that’s all.”

“No, you totally know your dad’s vibe,” Richie tells him, and then a little more seriously, “I think he’s really going to like this one. You’re not going to spill and tell him we got it, right?”

Frankie’s eyes widen a little. “You’re actually going to get it?”

“Of course, dude; I told you, it’s perfect.”

“Oh,” Frankie says, seeming a little taken aback; again, Richie gets the feeling that the kid didn’t think he’d be all that important to the wedding, like his input wouldn’t matter, and it breaks Richie’s heart and only furthers him to say:

“And, you know- we’re still kind of deciding on some of the food we wanted to have at the reception,” Richie says tentatively. “You should come up with some ideas and your dad and I can add them to the list.”

Frankie’s eyelashes flutter, and he nods slowly. “Okay. I can do that.”

I don’t think you realize how much that little boy cares about you, Mags words come back to Richie as Frankie watches the sales associate take the ring out of the display case and Richie, very carefully, reaches over to nudge Frankie’s shoulder; Frankie does the same back, giving Richie a small grin.

—

Richie thinks that all the weirdness is over, that he’s gotten a small taste of how kids can be and that he’s learning how to navigate it, until something bizarre happens at lunch, and he’s effectively more freaked out than he was mere hours before.

After running a few more errands, the four of them decide to stop at Panda Express for lunch, and by all accounts, everything is going well: Frankie watches Mags and Went as they talk to him and answers back, even teaching them a few signs when they ask, and Richie watches the interactions between the three of them with a smile on his face, relaxing.

He doesn’t know if Frankie thinks of them as grandparent-like figures yet, although that’s what they’d be to him legally; Richie knows that Frankie’s got a decent relationship with his only living grandparent, his maternal grandmother. But Richie hopes that it’ll get there soon; Mags and Went seem to really like Frankie, and overall love watching him and Richie interact with one another.

Lunch is going pretty well, until Frankie excuses himself to go to the bathroom. Richie notices more and more people filtering into the Panda Express - couples and groups of kids, mostly - but he’s too deep in  conversation with his parents to really pay much attention to it.

Minutes tick by until he realizes that Frankie’s not back yet; the Panda Express isn’t big, or anything, but the bathroom is towards the back where the additional seating is, and since it’s out of Richie’s view, he looks over at his parents.

“I’m gonna go make sure Frank didn’t fall in the toilet or anything, be right back,” he tells them, getting to his feet and heading back towards the bathrooms.

When he rounds the corner, he sees Frankie standing near a group of kids around his age. Richie thinks he recognizes a few of them from Frankie’s school from when he’s picked him up, or from the play a few weeks back, and Richie almost backs away and lets Frankie have time to catch up with his friends, until he sees the angry, pinched look on Frankie’s face, the way his fists twitch at his sides. How the other kids don’t exactly look too friendly towards him, either, and in an instant, all Richie can see is almost thirty years ago: Eddie standing there instead, with Bowers and his gang leering over him.

Richie stiffens his shoulders and begins walking over, ever so thankful for his height and the fact that became a stockier later in life.

“Heya,” Richie says, grabbing everyone’s attention. Frankie looks up at him, and Richie doesn’t see relief there, but something closer to annoyance. Before he can harp on that, he looks back at the kids and says, “What’s going on here?”

The boy closest to Frankie tries to give Richie a grin, but Richie sees right through it, and maybe he’s a little judgemental, but he immediately picks up the vibe that most of these kids are those annoying, pompous private school kids who think they’re too good for everything.

“You’re Richie Tozier, right?” the boy says, actually walking over to extend a hand to Richie to shake. “It’s really cool to meet you, my older brother loves your work.”

Richie has half the mind to slap the kid's hand away, but he forces a stiff smile on his face and shakes it, wanting to laugh when he feels the kid try to squeeze it - really, kid?

“That I am, and thank you, I really appreciate that,” Richie lets go of the kid's hand and looks over at Frankie. “Frankie? Is everything okay?”

Frankie is breathing heavily through his nose, eyes locked onto Richie’s; he looks fucking pissed, more pissed than Richie has ever seen him, and Richie’s about to start cussing out all of these kids, call the cops, their parents - fuck, what do you do when you’re confronting a group of shitty preteens, anyways? - when Frankie surprises Richie by walking away from the bathroom door and actually pushing Richie’s hand away when he tries to stop him, stomping his way back to the front of the Panda Express.

Richie watches him go, completely caught off guard; the kids behind them snicker, and it only furthers to aid Richie's confusion and anger.

“I’m so sorry about Frankie, Mr. Tozier,” one of the other kids says, shaking his head. “He has a temper sometimes; we were trying to talk to him, but I think he gets confused in big groups, because of, you know-” And the kid actually gestures to his ears; Richie thinks he’s about to pop a blood vessel from how angry he is.

“Can I get your autograph?” the first kid says, and that fucking smirk is back on his face, and oh Richie just wants to curse him out. “My brother would really appreciate it.”

“Sorry, kid, I don’t do autographs,” Richie finally manages to say, turning on his heel and heading back to their table. He ignores the muttering and snickering from the kids behind him, focused solely on finding Frankie, but he’s not at their table - Mags and Went are looking towards the front door of the restaurant, Went starting to push himself up to stand, until Richie holds up a hand and stops his father. “I’ll go and talk to him.”

“Is everything okay, Richie?” Mags asks.

“He just stormed out, didn’t even look at us,” Went adds, and Richie sighs.

“Just finish your lunch, okay? Everything is fine.” Even though everything is not fine, thank you every much, and Richie has no fucking clue what to do, how to fix it. He knows he has to find Frankie, at least, more than a little annoyed that Frankie stormed out of the restaurant without saying anything; Eds would fucking lose it if he knew that, and if Myra ever heard about it-

But thankfully, Frankie didn’t go far; he’s a few storefronts down the street, standing against the side of a building and staring down at his phone.

Richie jogs over to him, grabbing his attention. “Frankie, hey- listen, you know you can’t walk out like that without saying something, you-”

Frankie looks up from his phone. “Can you leave me alone, please?”

Richie blinks, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“I really don’t want to talk right now, Richie.”

“Well, sorry, dude, you can’t just stand out in the street alone; you know your dad would-”

“Oh my god, I’m not a baby,” Frankie snaps, shoving his phone in his pocket as he glares up at Richie. “What, do you think just because I’m Deaf that means that I can’t be alone?”

“What?” Richie asks, confused. “Dude, no, you know that’s…Frankie, you need to calm down and tell me what happened back there.” Richie swallows, leaning down. “Were those kids picking on you?”

“No,” Frankie says too quickly, which means yes.

“What are their names?” Richie asks, blood boiling. “Tell me their names, and your dad and I can go up to the school tomorrow morning and-”

“You want to go to my school and complain?” Frankie asks, eyes wide.

“I want to report it, yeah,” Richie says, confused at Frankie’s hostility. “Dude, if you’re being picked on - I mean, after that whole meeting, if-”

“Can you stop talking about the meeting? You weren’t even there, and you don’t know what happened.”

Richie blinks, taken aback by the harshness of Frankie’s tone, the anger in his voice. I thought we fixed everything from earlier, a pathetic part of Richie practically whines

“Frankie,” Richie says slowly, carefully. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on,” Frankie snaps, rolling his eyes. “Jesus. Those kids back there are just jackasses; you don’t need to report anything. I’m fine, see?”

“So they had your back to the wall, and they were just, what, you guys were trading baking recipes or something? I’m not an idiot, Frankie.”

“Richie, can you just drop it?” Frankie asks, slapping his hands to his sides when he’s done signing. “God, you’re worse than my mom.” 

Something about that cuts deep, even though he knows Frankie probably didn’t mean for it to: the fact that Frankie compared him to Myra, not Eddie.

“I just care about you,” Richie says, trying to keep the hurt out of his expression, praying that Frankie doesn’t see it. “Frank, listen to me: if something is going on, we can fix it, okay? I’m on your side.”

“Richie,” Frankie says again, practically shouting as he signs wildly, eyes burning into Richie’s. “Can you just leave me alone for once?! I told you that everything is fine, so just stop talking about it already! Do I have to spell it out for you, too? You’re not being helpful, you’re just irritating me!”

Richie’s never had Frankie scream at him like this. He’s never had Frankie speak to him so harshly, he’s never seen Frankie’s signs be so erratic and fast, so physical.

Can you just leave me alone for once?!

Richie knows that as a kid, he probably said way worse to Went and Mags - fuck, he knows he did. And he tries to remember his mother’s advice from earlier, that Frankie is just a kid, but he can’t deny the hurt that he feels at Frankie’s words. The lump that grows in his throat as Frankie just continues to stare at him, as if Richie’s the most annoying piece of shit he’s ever had to encounter.

He knows that Eddie would drop down to Frankie’s eye level and tell him to fix his attitude and apologize. That Stan would know exactly what to do at this moment; he’d have some sage and calm advice that Richie would follow in an instant.

But neither of them are here right now, so Richie doesn’t know what else to do other than swallow and say, “Okay.”

—

Mags and Went took the hint and decided to go back to their hotel early for the night, murmuring to Richie that they could do dinner tomorrow night instead when everything cools down.

By the time they get back to the apartment, Frankie is still refusing to look at Richie or speak to him, and when they get back home, Frankie goes first into the apartment, completely ignoring Eddie, who got home early thinking Mags and Went might join them again for dinner, and stomping to his room, slamming the door so loudly that various objects in the apartment actually rattle.

Eddie stares after his son, wide-eyed, slowly turning to look at Richie. “What the hell happened?”

Richie swallows and shakes his head, throwing his hands up, unable to meet Eddie’s eyes. “I don’t know, he just- Eds, we-”

“Richie,” Eddie says, and when Richie looks at him, he sees the panic and fear in Eddie’s eyes as he steps closer. “Calm down. Tell me what happened. Is Frankie okay?”

“He’s fine,” Richie says quickly, because Frankie keeps swearing that he is, and physically, nothing happened to him. It’s not like he got beat up or shoved, but it’s also not like Richie would know that, since Frankie’s refusing to speak to him. “He’s pissed at me, he won’t talk to me.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in shock. “He’s pissed at you?” 

“Yeah,” Richie runs a hand through his curls, shaking his head. “He’s fucking pissed at me, and…dude, I have no idea what to do. We had a little moment earlier today, and then we were fine, and then we went to lunch, and something happened-”

“What happened at lunch?” Eddie’s eyes widen even further in that owl-eyed look that Richie normally adores, but right now freaks him out, since everything just feels like it’s all his fault.

“We went to lunch, and he went to the bathroom, but since he was taking a bit, I walked over to check on him, and when I got there, there were these kids - kids from his school, I think - there too, and when I confronted them, Frankie got all pissed off and angry at me,” Richie explains, dropping onto the couch with a sigh. Eddie lowers himself next to him.

“Kids from his school?” Eddie asks slowly. “Were…were they picking on him?”

“I think so,” Richie says, biting his lip. “Like, not- no one touched him or anything, not like that. But it seemed like they were like…I don’t know, bothering him? They all seemed like rich fucking assholes, the one even shook my hand and tried getting my autograph - and I said no, because no one who’s being a dick to Frank gets anything from me, Eds, you know that - but when I followed Frankie outside and tried to ask him, he got angry at me and started yelling at me.”

“He yelled at you?” Eddie says, brows knitting together.

“He told me to leave him alone, that I was irritating him,” Richie drops his face into his hands, trying to swallow back the emotion from his voice. When he picks his face up from his hands and looks at Eddie, he sees the way Eddie stares at the unshed tears in his eyes. “He’s never yelled at me like that, Eds, never. We don’t…he and I aren’t like that, you know? He said I was worse than his mom.”

“He said that?” Eddie asks, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Eds, I…I don’t really know what to do,” Richie admits, shrugging helplessly. “I know it’s fucking stupid for me to get so upset over it, but he’s never yelled at me, ever. I told him we could like, go to his school and report it, get their names - but he got so fucking mad at me. He’s never looked at me like that before.”

Eddie listens to him and lets him finish; he’s rubbing circles into the small of Richie’s back and letting him get it all out, everything he needs to say.

“He’s just never been this pissed at me,” Richie continues, sniffing. “And I know it’s fucking stupid to be so upset over, but I’m- I’m supposed to be the cool one, you know? That’s our dynamic.”

“Richie,” Eddie cuts in, his tone serious. “You know you can’t be the cool one, right? That’s not real.”

Richie stares at Eddie in confusion, mouth open. “What?”

“Once he calms down, I’m going to go and talk to him,” Eddie murmurs, frowning. “He can’t talk to you like that, and- god, I know something’s going on at school, that he’s not telling me everything… But, Rich, you know that you can’t be chill around him a hundred percent of the time, right?”

Richie blinks. “I don’t…”

“Frankie’s eleven years-old. He’s going through puberty and he has a massive personality and stubborn streak. He gets angry, he gets an attitude, he can be disrespectful,” Eddie explains, staring at Richie. “You can’t just shrug your shoulders and be relaxed around him all the time. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Richie murmurs, even though he’s not really sure he does, at least not all the way. “That’s- that’s not what I mean, I just-”

“Richie, I normally love the dynamic you and Frankie have; Frankie needs another person to talk to, someone he can joke around with and have fun with - it’s important to him, and to me. But you have a habit of letting him get away with enough where I think he’s starting to look at you as a friend, not as a stepparent.”

“I don’t mind that, though,” Richie stresses, confused. “I figure since he’s going through so much, that…you know, he sort of needs that.”

“Richie, you can’t be his friend,” Eddie stresses. “You’re going to be his stepfather. Do you understand the difference?”

Richie does - he knows the point that Eddie’s getting at, that he and Frankie do have a lot of fun together, but that it’s starting to become where Frankie might think that Richie isn’t an authority figure towards him. The thought makes Richie feel stuffy, too serious, but before he can say that, Eddie gives him a stern look.

“Richie. I love you so, so much, but if you’re going to marry me and be in our lives, you need to support me in parenting, too. You can’t just let him walk all over you - he’s a preteen boy.”

Richie looks away. “I just didn’t like how it felt when he yelled at me,” he murmurs, frowning. “And I know…look, I get it. I know. But it just…it all came out of nowhere, you know?”

“He’s going through so much - with the divorce and school,” Eddie reminds him again. “And it’s not okay that he yelled at you; he’s going to apologize to you, and you need to make sure it’s a real, genuine apology. Richie, baby,” Eddie’s voice becomes softer, sweeter, “I love you. But you’re going to need to get thicker skin when it comes to this, okay? I know he’s not doing it out of nowhere, clearly he’s upset - but you need to be able to take it when it comes, and support me in disciplining him when I need to.”

Richie sighs, nodding. “Yeah. I know.”

Eddie looks away, biting his bottom lip. “Do you think he’s being bullied, Rich?”

Eddie’s expression is frightened, concerned, and Richie wishes that he could take it away, scrub away all of Eddie’s worries and concerns for his son.

But he knows he can’t, so he murmurs, “I don’t know. It kind of looked like it, Eds.”

Eddie shuts his eyes, running a hand through his hair. “I never wanted him to go through it, I…fuck.”

“Eds, it…” But there’s not really much Richie can say or do; he feels hopeless himself at the thought of it, of Frankie going through anything that they or the rest of the Losers went through as kids. “We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Eddie glances over at Richie, his expression softening as he leans forward to kiss him; Richie chases his lips when Eddie pulls away just to see him smile, that blush on his cheeks.

“I’ll go and talk to him, okay? And I mean it, Rich: he needs to give you a real, genuine apology.”

—

Right before dinner, Richie shoots Frankie a text and waits by the door to his bedroom for a few seconds before Frankie opens it, very slowly, staring up at Richie.

“Hey,” Richie murmurs with a wave.

Frankie blinks and waves back. “Hey.”

“Can I come in?” Richie asks, walking into Frankie’s room as soon as he nods and steps aside to let Richie in. Richie glances around Frankie’s room, eyeing the posters and various video game consoles. “Were you in the middle of anything?”

“Not really,” Frankie replies, sitting on his bed and toying with the string of his hoodie.

After Frankie gives him the go ahead, Richie sits down on Frankie’s bed next to him, patting his hands on his knees, sitting side by side in silence.

“Richie,” Frankie finally says. “I’m really sorry for yelling at you.”

Richie’s about to do his usual it’s okay, bud, don’t even sweat it, but he remembers Eddie’s conversation with him from earlier; he hesitates, biting his lip before he asks, “You know, you’ve just…you’ve never really yelled at me like that before, Frank, ever. And I know you were upset, but seeing you get so angry with me when I was just trying to make sure you were okay…” Richie trails off.

“Dad said I made you upset,” Frankie says, frowning. “And I didn’t…maybe since I was so angry, part of me kind of meant to do that, but I don’t like that I meant to. I don’t like it when I get angry like that.”

“Yeah, it kind of freaked me out, too,” Richie admits. “Especially since you just sort of stormed off without saying anything - you know that when you and I are hanging out, I’m responsible for you, right?”

“I know,” Frankie says. “I’m sorry.”

“Frank,” Richie says, turning to face Frankie a little more as he looks at him. “Is everything okay at school? Seriously.”

“I don’t get along with everyone at school,” Frankie admits with a shrug.

“Did anyone touch you, threaten you?”

“No,” Frankie insists, sighing. “Dad already did this, Richie, you don’t-”

“I care about you, Frankie,” Richie reminds him, catching his eye. “So it’s kind of my job now to make sure you’re okay, alright?”

Frankie stares at him for a long time, expression serious; the kid slowly starts to nod.

“Okay,” A pause. “School sucks sometimes, but it’s not a big deal, Richie. I have friends, and I like some of my teachers. I don’t need to leave, or anything.”

“Are you sure?” Richie asks.

“Yes,” Frankie insists, and Richie’s still not really sold; Frankie’s a good actor, but he gets the vibe that there’s something Frankie isn’t telling him, that he’s still hiding, but he knows that Frankie won’t tell him tonight, at least, so he finally lowers his gaze. Frankie’s already in therapy, and Richie knows enough about the school system to know that doing anything for a kid being picked on is pretty difficult unless they have something more concrete, so outside of moving schools - which Frankie is adamant that he doesn't want to do - Richie’s not sure of what else he can really say or do.

Before he can say anything, Frankie continues, “I really am sorry, Richie. For screaming at you like that. I really don’t want to hurt you, or Dad, or my mom,” A beat of silence. “Are…are you mad at me?” And Frankie looks so tiny, so hurt.

Richie’s heart breaks at the sight. “Buddy, no, no, no, I’m- little dude, it’s literally not a part of my wiring to get angry at you, I think. I was upset, yeah, but I’m not mad at you at all.”

Frankie nods quickly, but he still looks a little upset. “Okay.”

Richie hesitates. “Do you-?”

Before he can finish the sign, Frankie reaches over and presses his face into Richie's chest; Richie hugs him back right away, rubbing circles on his back.

“It’s okay,” He’s not sure how much Frankie can pick up through his cochlear’s right now, but he knows that Frankie enjoys feeling the rumble of his chest; Eddie told him that when Frankie was a lot younger, he liked laying on Eddie, side of his face pressed against Eddie’s chest while Eddie read the paper, an article, rambled about work - just to feel the vibrations. “You’re okay, Frank.”

Frankie presses the side of his face to Richie’s shirt and closes his eyes; just to make him laugh, Richie hums, watching as Frankie’s face scrunches up.

Finally, Frankie pulls away from Richie. “I’m really excited that you’re marrying my dad, you know.”

Richie smiles. “I’m excited about it, too,” He pauses. “Not just ‘cus your dad is like, you know, my other half, light of my life, yada yada, but, ‘cus….you know.”

Frankie blinks up at Richie and smiles, nodding fast. “Yeah.”

“So, we’re okay?” Richie asks.

“We’re okay,” Frankie tells him, holding up his hand for a fist bump; when Richie mimics an explosion as he pulls his hand away, Frankie shakes his head. “That’s still lame, dude.”

When they get up to go into the living room to wait for Eddie to finish up dinner, Frankie gives Richie another hug, looking so relieved that Richie can’t help but think of Mags’ words: I don’t think you realize how much that little boy cares about you.

Well, Richie thinks as he watches Frankie head into the living room; when Eddie sees them, Richie can see his smile of relief as he watches the pair of them interact, giving Richie a thumbs up, which he eagerly returns. I really care about him, too.