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Chapter Text

Maggie knew Richie and Eddie thought they were clever.

January 2018

It had taken nearly everything in Maggie’s power to keep dear Wentworth silent after their little discovery. Her husband, whenever it came to the subject matter of Richie and Eddie’s speculative (but now perhaps official) relationship status, reminded her all too much of herself and her gossipy bit of now forgotten friends back in their cringe-worthy middle school days. She had to berate her husband on a near daily basis to not trigger his heart into a fit whenever he saw Richie and Eddie and was suddenly spiraled into a desire to call them out on their little make out session from Eric and Steve’s wedding last month. 

Sure, it was beyond fascinating and absolutely thrilling (and a completely and utterly overdue development) that the two were dating or at least in some type of romantic cahoots with each other that was enough to have warranted swapped saliva in a what they had believed to be a private moment, but Maggie and Went (begrudgingly) agreed that it was not their place to call them out on it. It was clear they were not ready to say anything or they would have already— especially her loud mouth son. 

It is, however, quite hilarious in Maggie’s opinion, to see with eyes opened with that tidbit of information from Eric, how very obvious it was that the two were engaging in more-than-friendly activities in a manner that they dumbly believed to be secretive and clever. The two were about as inconspicuous as a German Shepherd dyed fluorescent pink. And maybe, just maybe they were moderately decent at maintaining the secrecy of their evolving relationship and Maggie was merely suffering from an intense case of hindsight bias or whatever, but that was not something she was never going to ever admit because now that she was aware of such developments— it was glaringly obvious that the two were unmistakably together in a way that exceeded a standard friendship. 

One of the more clear pieces of evidence that they were together was found in the fact that Richie had never been anywhere near decent at doing any type of makeup (seeing as he has always had people behind the scenes to do that for him). He constantly neglected to conceal the abundance of love bites that peaked just above the collar of his oversized shirts and colored the underside of his chronically stubbled jawline. Eddie was a bit better on this front, but he definitely did not know a thing about blending so more often than not, it just looked like Eddie had rather severe hyperpigmentation marring his neck.

A less obvious indication to their resurging romance (if it could count as a resurgence as Maggie had reminded Eddie just last year: he nor Richie never officially broke off their relationship in high school), was the issue of Eddie’s queen-sized hypoallergenic sheets. 

A couple of weeks ago, whilst searching for beach towels to use in the hot tub which Richie stored on the second floor of the main house, Maggie happened to pass by Eddie’s room and something peculiar caught her eye. Uncertain if she was seeing things to add fuel to the Eddie-Richie relationship fire (which in her opinion had been burning since their first day of kindergarten), she had proceeded to investigate further— after all, the door was open. Maybe she was being overly nosy. But as per usual, she frankly did not give a single fuck.

The bed had obviously not been slept in in quite some time. There was a layer of dust on the furniture that normally Eddie Kaspbrak would never allow to accumulate in any room that he tended to frequent. A bedroom was a room that one should frequent on a nightly basis (unless you were Richie or Went who both possessed irregular sleep schedules). But what was most interesting was the packaged set of hypoallergenic sheets that Eddie had purchased for himself whilst she and him had been shopping together at TJ Maxx just a couple of months ago.

 He did like the luxurious set that was on the bed in the guest room Richie had granted him last year, but he did have rather sensitive skin (something that merely developed with age and was not the result of some phony illness his late mother and soon-to-be ex wife had conjured up) and the sheets were supposed to be soft and made of a material that would not irritate him too much. Eddie had been thrilled to purchase the sheets (as any full fledged adult is when it comes to buying anything home related or anything to alleviate the ailments that came with growing old(er)) that afternoon however, now, months later, the once desirable set he’d been eager to use, remained unopened and unused.

Another thought had come to her mind as she studied the sheets. She’d snorted to herself as the thought crossed her mind. She had believed she was making an olympian-style stretch with the possibilities that had crossed her mind, but the prying-mother side to her inquisitive mind begged her to determine whether such speculations could potentially be true.

She exited the room and had snuck her way to Richie’s room which had not been nearly as tidy as Eddie’s, was more organized than she knew Richie on his own would ever keep it. He would only maintain any level of remote tidiness if he were, for some bizarre reason, sharing the room with a more orderly individual that demanded a level of organization and perfection that Richie normally did not desire to have for anything besides his work. The furniture lacked a single speck of dust and Richie was actually utilizing the hamper tucked into the far corner of the vast space. 

She approached his bed, which was actually made for once, and lifted up the comforter. The sheets upon the bed were the same exact hypoallergenic ones Eddie had gotten for himself in a king size version. To her knowledge, her son did not have any skin-related issues that would warrant such sheets nor did Eddie elect to buy him a set when he’d gotten his. There was only one reason for that bed to have hypoallergenic sheets.

The more blink-and-you-miss-it sign of Eddie and Richie dating was their body language and their general attitude toward one another. These qualities were ones that could easily be dismissed as being close friends or simply missed by someone not looking for evidence, but once Maggie and Went were clued in on the fact that Richie and Eddie were definitely acting in a way that most friends (even ones as close as the Losers Club) don’t normally act, these objectively little things were something they simply could not miss or assume to be anything else except verification of their romance. 

The two men were almost always joined at the hip or making very obvious attempts to grace their hands across each others’ bodies for a moment longer than fleeting. Sure, the two had always been rather touchy-feely with one another, but the level they were at now just had an aura of intimacy that Maggie and Went had never really seen out of the two. It was something that wasn’t even there in their high school dating days for this type of connection could only exist for two individuals that were in genuine love with one another and not the type of finicky “love” that existed for hormonal teenagers that believed their supposed romance to be something special or unique whilst exploring the course of a basic relationship. 

Sure, Richie and Eddie had always had something special even in their youth but things were different now. A good different. Gone were the juvenile emotions fueled by a developing body and mind and a love that could hardly be described as remotely stable. Their love had seen the test of time. It had barreled through the emotional and physical struggles the world cruely thrust upon them and it had not only survived, but grew stronger. 

The connection they had now was undying and possessed a power of such greatness and authenticity. It was positively remarkable and wholly uncontained for their affection for one another and their lingering touches that they believed no one could notice, just filled the room with a pure feeling that Maggie only ever sensed when she felt the warm touch of her husband. Whenever Richie and Eddie were together, they permeated their surroundings with what could only be hackneyedly described as true love. 

It was a love that should be celebrated for the two men had seen too much in their lives and their love was truly a testament that things can get better . However, the two wanted to mask this love and keep it behind closed doors and it was not her nor Went’s place to call them out on this (attempted) secret. And in all honesty, Maggie found it quite comical that Richie and Eddie really seemed to be convinced that they were too clever for anyone to find them out (which was immensely laughable considering they’d believed it to be smart to play tonsil hockey whilst at a wedding that several people they knew were in attendance at). But Maggie figured they might as well indulge their prowling fantasies and play the role of oblivious parents. 

For now. 

Richie and Eddie deserved it. They had valid reasons for wanting to keep their relationship underwraps and she nor Went would not press the issue anytime soon. They should be able to remain quiet for as long as they need. However, Eddie Kaspbrak, drunk and disorderly, may just be the reason their secret relationship is found out sooner than either of them would like. 

It was official. Eddie Kaspbrak was officially a free man— or at least free from the chains of an unhappy marriage. Richie probably would not want Eddie to refer to himself as a free man. But Eddie was free in the sense that his divorce had been finalized and he was free of the Freudian nightmare that was his relationship with Myra Moore. The divorce, while not War Of The Roses difficult, was certainly not easy in the slightest. They all knew Myra had the power to make it harder than she had, but the effort she did put forth into making the process complicated was clear as day in the time it had taken and the tears and fits it had driven Eddie into on multiple occasions. 

But it was finally over as Eddie had informed them via text earlier that day.

“I want to get fucking obliterated.” Eddie declares as he enters the kitchen, home from classes since he’s now enrolled in in-person classes and labs, with a swagger that Maggie has never really seen in him. There’s a calm and relieved quality to Eddie’s physical form that she’s never once seen in him. She does not think she’s ever seen his shoulders set so low or his jaw not clenched (in a way that drove the retired dentist in Went absolutely mad) with anticipation for something harmful to come his way. He, in Maggie’s opinion, appeared to be glowing.

“In what sense?” Richie snickers, hands clasped behind his head as he leans back in a kitchen chair in a way he should not be doing in his forties. 

“Fucking wasted.” Eddie declares, sitting himself in the empty seat next to Bev. She and Ben were staying with all of them for an extended weekend and were more than happy to be there to celebrate the end to Eddie’s marriage. “Drunk. Intoxicated. Blacked the fuck out.”

“I think Eddie might want to have alcohol.” Went observes, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I could be wrong.”

Maggie shakes her head, laughing to herself. “A celebration is definitely needed.”

“I wanna go be a sloppy piece of shit at a bar.” Eddie informs them, crossing his arms and nodding his head once to emphasize his point. 

“Sloppy bitch.” Richie corrects. 

Eddie shoots him a half assed attempt at a glare but he cannot fight back the snort that creeps up his throat at her son’s joke. “Okay, yes. I want to be a sloppy bitch at a bar tonight.”

The three Loser Club members chuckled to themselves, obviously pondering the moderately lighter moment of their encounter with the demon clown. Maggie nor Went find it that funny simply because all they can envision based on what Richie had told them is him putting himself in unnecessary danger by irritating the enlarged clown with childish taunts and he probably did that not only because he wanted to protect Mike (which he insists is the only reason) but because he was on the verge of a severe mental breakdown (even before Eddie’s near death experience) and was severely lacking any ounce of self preservation. 

“We can definitely make that happen, Eds.” Ben reassures, leaning over to pat Eddie not too roughly on the shoulder. “We’ll go anywhere you want.”

“Unfortunately I will be unable to join in on the festivities.” Richie says sadly, obviously feeling guilty that he will not be present to celebrate his (boy)friend’s divorce. “I have some last minute reshoots for Barry and uh,” his tone becomes self deprecating, “I don’t feel particularly bar ready if I’m being honest.” 

Eddie offers him a kind smile. With a keen eye that is clued in to their relationship status, she notices the subtle movement of his hand under the table to gently rub her son’s knee. “I mean we don’t have t—”

“No! I want you to celebrate this. It’s a big deal,” a mischievous smirk creeps up his face, “and we can celebrate our own way another time.” 

Went opens his mouth to say something but Maggie elbows him in a fashion more discreet than those two fools could ever hope to attempt.

Eddie’s cheeks burn a red flush and Maggie attempts to steer her mind from the implication of her son’s words which are suggestive even to those unaware of their current dynamic. She would rather disregard anything pertaining to her son and Eddie’s more personal affairs. 

Eddie coughs a bit, moving his hand through his fluffy hair. “You sure? I mean I don’t want you to feel left out. We could always just hang here.”

“I’ll stay with Dickard.” Bev offers. “It can be a guy’s night.” 

“Wait,” Richie narrows his eyes, offended. “What are you implying?”

“That you’re a little bitch.” Bev answers simply before succumbing to her own fit of the giggles. “I’m kidding but I can’t drink much on my antidepressants and I have zero self control and would probably ruin the entire night if I went out with you two,” she nods at Eddie and Ben who humm in agreement before turning back to Richie. “We can do our own stuff here and make fun of Eddie and Ben when they come home completely sloshed.” 

“Alright.” Richie beams. “That sounds like a right ol’ plan, lassy.”

Bev kicks him halfheartedly in the shin. 

“Are you guys sure?” Eddie inquires once more. 

“Absolutely.” Richie tells him with a forcible sincerity. “We want you to have fun. This is a big deal. You finally divorced your mo—Myra.” 

He forces a cough in a pisspoor attempt to cover his tracks for Richie is finally learning that perhaps mom jokes in front of Eddie, especially on a day of celebration, are probably not the best thing for him. He collects himself to the extent that he is actually capable of, seeing as he is still Richard Wentworth Tozier. 

“We’re all really proud of you Eds.”

“Yes,” Eddie laughs mirthlessly. “What an accomplishment it is to be a divorced man in his forties.” A roll of his golden brown eyes and a grumpy puff of air. “Goddamn, I should truly receive an award for this.”

“Hey being divorced in your forties is honestly the best thing ever.” Bev admonishes. “Gives you ample opportunity to find something better.” Her face aglow with bliss as she glances at Ben who stares at her with pure adoration.

Eddie visibly lightens at that, nodding his head in agreement. “Yeah. I’m sure I’ll find the absolute best.” Eddie responds simply, a small smile quirking up the corner of his lips. 

Richie goes uncharacteristically silent and looks away, as if somehow more interested in the finish of his kitchen cabinets. Maggie, even with a brief glimpse in her son’s direction, can clearly see the glossiness of his eyes which is nothing short of expected for her son. He has always been somewhat of a bawl baby when it came to general affection especially from Eddie Kaspbrak and even now, it is, in her opinion as a mother, positively endearing. 

xXx

Ben and Eddie ended up leaving by Uber a few hours after the discussion pertaining to the plans regarding Eddie’s need to celebrate his failed marriage by getting absolutely smashed at the bars. This had left Went, Maggie, Richie, and Bev— or the Barbershop Quartet of Party Poopers as Richie had deemed them to be— to their own more menial devices in the main house where they spent most of the night up to their own sober shenanigans.

The Barbershop Quartet of Party Poopers passed the night by with a movie, some take-out from a restaurant that Eddie had pre-approved of (as he did not want to return home drunk to a bunch of people suffering from food poisoning), and of course a few less-than-PG games of Cards Against Humanity which no one could beat Wentworth at— not even the infamous Trashmouth himself.

“I mean you got all this,” Went had gestured toward Richie as if the motion somehow conjured up the history of Richie’s questionable and rather dirty humor, “from the master, so it is understandable that you, a mere extension of my gifts, could not best me . ”

“ You’re the master?” Richie had snorted while he packed up the cards into their box no longer wishing to bitterly lose to his father anymore. Richie, even now as a fully fledged adult in his middle-aged years, was still somewhat of a sore loser. “Which of us tortured kids for a living and who made a living of making people laugh their asses off?”

“Nitrous oxide certainly did help me but I wouldn’t say your animation work was torturous, Dickolas.” 

Richie had given his father a glare that had very little heat behind it for his shoulders bretrayed his attempt to seem miffed at his father as they’d shook with silent laughter when he had gotten up to put the box of cards away.

“Dickolas?” Bev had furrowed her brows in confusion. 

“Dick is short for Richard and Richard is short for Dickolas.” Went explained flippantly before stretching and electing to retire himself for the evening; diminishing their quartet to a trio of party poopers that were slightly less pooperous than Wentworth or at least that’s what Richie had insisted once his father made his way to their private guest house.

The three of them ended up settling in the living room where they decided they would patiently await the return of their drunken friends to ensure that they could get them each into bed safely… and to of course, acquire some blackmail to tease them relentlessly about; and as always, as she sat near Richie and his best friend/honorary sister, simply observing the duo, Maggie Tozier could swear that absolutely no time had passed since her son was in his teens. She is thoroughly convinced that if she could close her eyes, ignore the dull aches of her aging body, and simply listen to the sounds of their interactions, she could easily feel as if she was thrust right back into the 80s and 90s seeing as none of the Losers, especially Richie and Bev, had really ever grown beyond their typical teenage antics. 

“YOU ARE RIPPING OUT MY FUCKING EYEBROWS.” Richie screeches from the living room floor where he is currently prone as a certain redhead is straddled over him, sharp elbows stuck into his chest as she uses a pair of tweezers to tame his rather bushy brows. 

“ Eyebrow .” Bev corrects as she ignores his bitching to continue plucking away the hairs that made Bev’s statement correct as her son was very much on his way to sporting a full blown unibrow. “Stop being such a goddamned baby.”

“Motherfu— OW! DON’T SMACK ME.” 

“Stop moving or you’re going to ruin the shape.” She hisses, tongue between her teeth as she gets closer in a way that would have been wildly suggestive if the two weren’t extremely close and if Richie wasn’t steadily becoming Twitter’s favorite middle aged gay man.

“Richie, you start filming season two soon. Let her do it.” Maggie advises.

“Oh! So there is a season two!” Bev’s eyes light up. Clearly, Richie has continued to keep his work underwraps around his friends out of his genuine fear of failure that has unquestionably gotten better with his continued therapy, but is still not quite where it should be just yet. 

“I mean we got signed for it but we won’t probably put it out there if the show flo— FUCKING OW.”

“No negative self talk, Dickass.”

“You are not a psychologist and I’m pretty sure all of this would violate a bunch of ethics codes if you were.” He huffs, eyes watering as she yanks another stray hair.

“But am I wrong?” No answer. “ Exactly . Now hold fucking still so I can finish and STOP whining so motherfucking much, bitch boy.”

“I really should have implemented a swear jar.” Maggie notes aloud.

“Mom, don’t fucking star-ar-AH FUCK.” Richie gripes to which Bev snorts. She is definitely getting some twisted sense of pleasure of tormenting her son. “It is a fucking miracle that I did not think my first name was ‘Fuck’ when I was a kid given the way that you and dad used to speak.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.” She replies simply; not even attempting to find a moderately better rebuttal for his argument because there is no denying that she and Went weren’t exactly careful with the kind of language they used around their impressionable terror of a child. 

Richie snorts before continuing back to his regularly scheduled bit of bitching and moaning as Bev plucks his brows into a more distinguished, clean shape. 

As Bev begins massaging some water based cream into Richie’s red skin to diminish the irritation, Maggie can feel herself growing somewhat tired and thinks she might just leave them to capture the essential blackmail material while she joins her husband for a night’s rest. 

She elects to wait it out as she hears the sound of two car doors slamming and the sound of Eddie Kaspbrak and Ben Hanscom shouting out their slurred words of thanks to the Uber driver that had been tasked with the duty of driving their asses home as if they were two drunken frat brothers and not a well respected and widely known businessman and a nursing student.

“Oh god.” Bev snorts as she hears the clobbering footsteps that are very audibly stumbling up Richie’s porch. 

“This is gonna be interesting.” Richie remarks from beneath her as the door flies open to reveal a disheveled looking pair with two grins, unending, as the pull of alcohol flowing in their systems, forces their smiles to remain etched into their flushed faces. 

“Hiya!” Bev beams at them as they manage to shut the front door with floppy hands, still not moving from her current position as she moves to comb Richie’s eyebrows to emphasize the nice arch she’s granted him which admittedly, does a lot to enhance the size and shape of his eyes, which he now allows to be seen more clearly since he started wearing contacts on a more regular basis. At first Maggie assumed it was just for the show but something makes her think that he also does it for Eddie even if Eddie didn’t see a problem with Richie’s glasses in the first place. 

“Ge’roff my man!” Eddie slurs, stumbling forward. 

Richie jolts at that and Maggie can see color immediately rush to his cheeks but Bev, either completely in the dark or simply unsurprised, doesn’t seem to perceive such a comment as anything out of the ordinary and slides right off of Richie which a chuckle. 

“I apologize. I was fixing his eyebrows.”

“I like ‘em.” Eddie mumbles.

“You two have fun?” Maggie asks as Richie pulls himself off the ground without a single groan. The regular exercise and stretching required for his show has surely helped to enhance his flexibility and alleviate the creakiness of his joints. 

“Soooooo much fun!” Ben singsongs, wrapping his arms around Bev. “Hi there.”

“Hi, honey.” She snorts, musing his hair with her delicate fingers. 

Eddie snorts. “Oh, yes!” He nods, the movement rocking his brain as he is left toppling over dizzily. Richie steps forward, grabbing him by his shoulders to steady him. 

“You smell like someone doused you with everything in a liquor store, Eds.” Richie cackles.

“Myra ‘ever let ‘m drink. Hadta hav’it all now!” Eddie defends and Maggie cannot help but feel horribly sad about that. Sure, drinking isn’t an essential part of adulthood, but the fact that Eddie had been controlled to the point where he was given strict guidelines as to what he was allowed and allowed to consume was just so disheartening and so horribly wrong . She is eternally mesmerized by Eddie’s continued bravery and the strength he found in himself to finally leave her. 

“I wanna sleep now.” Ben announces, his mouth still set in an unwavering grin but his eyes heavy with the sedating effect of whatever alcohol he’s put away. Maggie knows Ben is a wine man so she wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the cause of his sudden grogginess. 

Bev chuckles. “I’m gonna take him on up.” She decides.

“Do you need anything?” Richie questions as Eddie leans heavily against him, slowly bringing his hands to Richie’s shoulders. 

“Nah.” Bev shakes her head. “I snagged some water bottles and chips earlier just in case we ended up crashing before they got home.”

“Oh my god, chips ?!” Ben basically squeals. “We gotta go. We gotta go now !” He insists, pulling away from Bev as he trips toward the stairs. 

Maggie giggles at that, shaking her head. “Goodnight!”

“Night!” They both chirp together as Bev, with a strength that one would not expect from her slight physique, manages to drag the six foot something, muscular form of Benjamin Hanscom up the steps. 

“Big.” Eddie says, digging his fingers into Richie’s shoulders, eliciting a peculiar squawking sound from her son’s throat. 

“Don’t do that!” Richie yipes around a laugh. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Noooooo.” Eddie whines, leaning into Richie’s back. “I wanna…” he pokes Richie in the side roughly, murmuring something Maggie can't quite catch from across the living room but she can tell it’s enough to redden her son’s face even more than it had when Eddie had called him “my man.”

“No. How about we get a snack? Wanna do that?” Richie says, turning around to face the shorter man, gently removing his hands from his torso. 

“You’re a sssssnack .”

Maggie, whose presence seemed to drift from Richie’s awareness as he was focused on addressing his drunken partner, is quickly brought to his attention with her loud laughter. 

“I can take it from here mom if you want to go to bed.” Richie offers, seemingly out of the kindness of his heart but most obviously attempting to cover his own ass. She’ll play stupid but there is no way she’s going to miss out on this. Perhaps she is a bitch. That’s likely. But does she give? Oh, not in the slightest. 

“Oh-hoo-hoo, I’m fine right here, honey.” She sneers.

Richie grimaces and pulls Eddie to the kitchen where Maggie elects to follow them. 

“Hi Miss Maggieeee,” Eddie garbles, slumping down at the kitchen table, looking at her with his wildly unfocused eyes. “You’re just so so sooooooo nice .” He tells her as Richie bustles through the cabinets for some crackers and the allergy friendly sunflower butter. 

“I like to think so.” She nods, resting her chin on her hands. 

“You’re funny.” Eddie snorts, dropping his head down as he falls into a fit of the giggles. 

“I’m funnier.” Richie informs them both as he sets a plate of crackers covered in sunflower butter in front of Eddie.

“Oh wow!” Eddie moans as he shoves one into his mouth, eyes nearly rolling back as if it is the most delectable thing to have ever crossed his taste buds. “‘anks Rich. ‘Ou the best!” 

“Anything for you Eds.” He muses Eddie’s hair, his hand lingering in the soft, somewhat sweaty curls a tad longer than necessary for two individuals attempting to pretend that they’re simply friends . “I’m going to get you some water and I bet that’ll be even better .” 

“Water is better for you than alcohol.” Maggie snickers.

“Very funny.” Richie rolls his eyes. 

As Richie turns, Eddie doesn’t even seem to hesitate or even think that he’s doing this in front of Richie’s mother, and slaps Richie not gently in the slightest right upon his ass. Richie lets out a yipe, twirling around to look at Eddie with wide eyes. 

“What the fuck Eddie.”

“Richie Tozier? More like THICCIE Tozier.” Eddie cackles, spitting out some of the crackers onto his plate before throwing his head back with more laughter. Maggie is unable to maintain any bit of mature composure. Her entire body quakes a fit of giggles, tears burning her eyes as she cracks up at the sight of this version of Eddie Kaspbrak. 

“My mom is in here.” Richie scolds. “You can’t do that.”

“Oh your mom knows.” Eddie waves him off and for a second Maggie is surprised that Eddie is that aware. “After all, she made your fine ass.” Ah. Nevermind. Still clueless. Still drunk. Still the love of her son’s life. 

“I don’t think there’s much ass there to be honest.” Maggie admits. “He takes after his father.”

“MOM!”

“Richard, be nice to Maggie. Shesa ‘ery nice lady!” Eddie pounds his fist on the table, rattling his crackers around a bit. He moves his head dramatically to face Maggie again and offers her an exaggerated nod to her previous statement pertaining to her son’s asslessness. 

“Yeah. There’s not much there but the shoulders,” He points at her flustered looking son and lets out a loud whistle. “That’s where he’s got it.” Eddie smirks at a horror-stricken Richie, drunkenly oblivious to the distressed state he’s working her son into. 

She decides she should probably not let Richie work himself up over this and continue playing stupid to the best of her ability. “Richie, don’t be so embarrassed. You are always mommy’s handsome little boy,” his panicked expression devolves into one of disinterested annoyance, “and you should really get him some water before he gets sick or says something else he doesn’t realize he’s saying.”

Although she knew (too much for her own liking at this point) that Eddie meant every single word toppling past his overly loose tongue.

However, her words  seem to do the trick as Richie’s shoulders seem to lose a fraction of their tension and he stops worrying at his lower lip with jutted front teeth. “Yeah,” he huffs a laugh, “Eddie just eat your crackers, alright?”

Eddie sticks his tongue out before complying with Richie’s commands by shoving another cracker into his mouth. “ ‘o fuckin’ ‘ood.” He grumbles around a mouthful, eyes fluttering shut as he continues to enjoy his snack. 

Maggie has a sneaking feeling that no amount of carbs or water will be enough to spare Eddie from the excruciating hangover awaiting him in the morning.

“I’m sure it is, Spaghetti.” Richie plops himself down by Eddie as he hands him a water bottle, a fond smile for Eddie’s stupidity clearly cast upon his still flushed face. “I’ve said it when you were in a better state and I’ll say it again: I’m really proud of you for leaving her, Eds.”

“Yeah of course you are.” Eddie snarks.

“Really?” Richie rolls his eyes. “I’m proud of you for being braver than you thought you were.”

“Ugh,” Eddie groans. “ ‘onna make me cry!”

Maggie laughs, leaning in to rub Eddie’s shoulders. “We’re glad you had fun tonight,” to which Eddie humms contentedly at; no longer interested in anything sentimental as he is almost entirely focused on devouring his food. 

Maggie decides there’s probably not going to be anything more comical about the night and thinks it’s time to let them have their little moment alone. “You think you’ll be okay with him?” She knows he will be. They’ve always been okay in each other’s company. 

He nods. “Yeah, I got this. I’ll get him to his room and probably keep tabs on him.”

He won’t have to go far to keep tabs on him. He won’t even have to do anything beyond sitting up in his own bed.

“Alright,” she pecks a quick motherly kiss to each of their cheeks. “I love you both and you better get upstairs soon and get some rest.”

“Night mom.” Richie smiles sheepishly. “Love you.

“ ‘ight Mags.” Eddie says groggily, leaning his head into her son’s bicep as he takes a long pull of water.

“You’re gonna pay for this so bad tomorrow.” Richie mutters to him as Maggie slips out the backdoor. She doesn’t mean to but she catches a glimpse of Richie, eternally impatient and unwilling to give her the time to get an adequate distance from the backdoor, pressing a soft kiss into the top of Eddie’s hair. 

“Idiots.” She says to herself.

xXx

To the surprise of absolutely no one,  Eddie and Ben each suffered major hangovers the next morning and to his benefit, although he was victim to a skull throbbing headache and near-crippling nausea, Eddie could not recall any of the revealing things he’d babbled on about in front of Maggie and Richie. What was a surprise however, was the buzz of Maggie’s phone that revealed a text message from Bev who was sitting at the same table as she. 

She glanced up to briefly take in the sight of Eddie and Ben nibbling at their breakfasts with great disinterest, only consuming food for the sake of nourishment and replenishing the systems they had depleted with ample amounts of the most beloved poison to grace the planet, her husband who was currently occupied with the crossword, murmuring softly to himself and scrunching his nose in a way that Maggie has always found endearing, an empty seat her son would have normally occupied had he not been off doing reshoots for his show, and then of course Bev, sitting criss cross applesauce, holding a steaming mug of tea, and staring rather intently at Maggie; noticeably eager for her to open the message and jaw clenched tightly as to suggest that she say nothing about the peculiarity of the matter.  

Maggie knew not to question anyone that sent text messages to a person that was directly in front of them. She may be old but she was still extremely well versed in the field of gossip— an expert if you will. 

Silently, she opened the text and with every fibre of her being, she managed to maintain a semblance of equanimity and not bust out into a fit of laughter. 

Bev :)

                                                                                                             Bev :): Okay, so I might

                                                                                                                       be totally off here

                                                                                                                       and I wanted to 

                                                                                                                       ask earlier but 

                                                                                                                       not in front of 

                                                                                                                       Richie or Eddie

                                                                                                                       for reasons…

                                                                                                                       and maybe 

                                                                                                                       asking you 

                                                                                                                       makes me

                                                                                                                       a “bad friend”

                                                                                                                       but you know

                                                                                                                       everything and

                                                                                                                       Ben and I were

                                                                                                                       discussing this 

                                                                                                                       before we came

                                                                                                                       down and well

                                                                                                                       there’s more 

                                                                                                                       but I’ll get to 

                                                                                                                       that after I

                                                                                                                       clarify THIS.

                                                                                                             Bev:): Are Richie and

                                                                                                                       Eddie together? 

Her bodily instincts betrayed her ability to remain nonchalant whilst reading a “secret” message; two imaginary fingers pulling her mouth into a Cheshire grin.

“What’s got you all giddy, Maggie?” Eddie sniffed, wincing as if the vibrations of his vocal cords somehow rattled his brain within the confines of his throbbing skull. Maggie knew he wasn’t meaning to sound aggressive, but he was very obviously cranky and still a bit antsy over her earlier inquiry as to whether he recalled anything he had done or said last night. 

She had reassured him that it was nothing serious but Eddie, while painfully dense when it came to emotions, could somehow sense that she was withholding information from him. He had to have some foresight and enhanced observational skills— especially since he was on his way to becoming a pediatric nurse. 

Maggie can see Bev cringe a bit, hiding her face behind a faux sip of steaming tea. 

“Dog pictures.” She answers easily. Richie had been talking about adopting a puppy for a while now but with his busy work schedule, he had been against the idea even though there were three other people living with him that could take care of the pup. He was afraid they would end up liking everyone way more than him.

He snorts a bit, a brief grimace of pain ghosting his features before returning to his food, not overly interested in engaging in any conversation— not that she blames him right now.

“I wanna see.” Went insists, leaning over.

“Sure.” She says, giving him a look with the famously deemed Maggie Eyebrow™ as to silently will him to not question the lack of K9 imagery upon her phone. Went has always had an issue with subtly but she has gotten him somewhat better trained in the last forty-something years. 

He raises his head once in subdued acknowledgement, skimming Bev’s message, a matching grin yanking up his mouth as he turns to face her. 

“Cute dog.” He chuckles, shaking his head and returning to his crossword. Maggie knows there’s absolutely no way he’ll be able to focus on it now. Went is a bigger gossip than her, Bev, and just about any teen girl from a moderately to extremely sexist early 2000s film. She assumes that his constant cravings for juicy information or “tea” as she’s heard Richie and Bev occasionally refer to it as, comes from being in a field where he barely got to genuinely converse with anyone given that his hands were almost always down the throats of everyone he interacted with— and not even in a kinky way, as Richie would crudely point out.

She gives a raised brow and a fond smirk to Bev and she knows that answers the redhead’s question but elects to reply anyway.

Bev :)

                                                                                                             Maggie: Yes they are.

                                                                                                             Maggie: Have been for

                                                                                                                          a while now 

                                                                                                                          I think. But 

                                                                                                                         they think 

                                                                                                                         that no one 

                                                                                                                         knows and I

                                                                                                                          think they 

                                                                                                                         want it to

                                                                                                                         stay  that

                                                                                                                         way for  now.

                                                                                                             Maggie: So, humor them.

                                                                                                             Bev :): I figured as much.

                                                                                                                       I won’t say a 

                                                                                                                       thing to them.

                                                                                                             Bev :): However, that 

                                                                                                                       means Ben, Bill,

                                                                                                                       and Patty owe

                                                                                                                       me, Audra, Mike,

                                                                                                                       and Stan a fuck 

                                                                                                                       ton of money. lmao

                                                                                                             Maggie: YOU GUYS WERE

                                                                                                                         BETTING ON THEM

                                                                                                                         GETTING TOGETHER?!

                                                                                                             Bev:): Oh we all knew they 

                                                                                                                       would but it

                                                                                                                       was more 

                                                                                                                       of a matter

                                                                                                                       of when lol

                                                                                                             Bev:): I mean technically they

                                                                                                                       never did break up

                                                                                                                       from high school

                                                                                                                       so...

Maggie was unable to hold her composure at that and busted out laughing much to the bewilderment of Eddie and Ben.

xXx

March 2018

Richie’s confidence was something that, no matter how much therapy he had, would probably always be unfortunately low. Maggie speculates that part of it comes with the territory of being in the entertainment business, especially being in the industry as a comedian. Comedians thrive on self-deprecating humor and perhaps some of them begin their career with a decent amount of self worth (her son definitely did not) but all of that self ragging has to be detrimental to one’s self view, even if it is supposed to be all in good fun. Such jokes at one’s own expense are bound to diminish anyone’s self esteem, especially for someone that’s never really had an ounce of self worth to begin with. 

“I mean, you guys really don’t have to watch it.” Richie told them nervously, unable to meet their eyes as they waited for the show before Barry’s timeslot to end so that they could, as a family, watch the pilot episode of Richie’s new show.

  In conjunction with some more minor film roles and his Art is Dead tour, scheduled for late 2019, he’d been completely dedicated to putting his entire life into this show. Her son had put forth almost all of his time in perfecting the show in the form of late night writing sessions, shooting practices at ranges that made him feel weirdly uncomfortable due to the republican aura that permeated such spaces, having extended workout sessions in the gym to give himself a body that he deemed appropriate for the role, and of course spending hours upon hours on set, not only acting, but directing and producing this show where each day he attempted to get the perfect shot for each individual scene, even if that meant hours upon hours focused on the same scene. 

This show meant the world to Richie from the moment he’d pitched it and it showed in his remarkable work ethic that Maggie had never seen him offer in anything else he had. Yes, Richie was always one to put himself into a project to the best of ability but Barry inspired him to not only put his best self forward, but to internally seek out an even better version of himself to make the show that much more great. 

But of course, being her son, he had to talk down each of his accomplishments and minimize everything he had put into the show and was rather set on eliminating their desire from watching. He had been doing the same to his fellow Losers as Eddie had informed her and Went by reading the messages that Richie had sent in their group chat. He had insisted that there was no need for them all to watch (which they all had told him they would without him even asking) as “pilots were always dull” and the show probably wouldn’t really interest any of them anyway.

“Richie, we want to watch it.” Maggie tells him, her voice stern but not unkind.

“Only because I’m in it.” Richie grumbles back. 

“Well, yeah.” Eddie scoffs. “It’s going to be great because you are in it and you, whether you realize it or not, are a fucking great actor and a fantastic writer.” Richie’s cheeks go pink, and his eyes, downcast, begin to glisten.

 “Hey, no. None of that shit.” Eddie says gently, tucking his index finger under her son’s scruffed chin, picking his face up so that their eyes meet. The mannerism, while normal in their perhaps overly affectionate friend group, possesses a loving quality that bespeaks a “secret” romance.

 “It’s going to be great, Rich. We’ve all seen the trailer and it looks fucking sick.” Richie smiles a fraction, but there is still insecurity and doubt swimming in his eyes. “HBO has already signed you for a second season and you’re already shooting for that. That means they already have faith in the show.” Richie nods mutely.

Eddie continues, dropping his hand from her son’s face and instead moving to hold Richie’s hand in his. “You need to do what your therapist says and realize that thinking negatively isn’t going to prepare you or protect you from feelings or events that might hurt you. You’re allowed to recognize your strengths and your worth and to be excited even in the chance of negative outcomes, which personally, with my past knowledge of statistics, I say the chance of a poor result in this scenario, is extremely unlikely. But if for some chance my internal math doesn’t check out which rarely happens, and the show doesn’t do as well as we all know it’s going to, it doesn’t minimize your talent nor does it mean you are a failure, Rich. You do so much and you’re worth so much so please, celebrate today instead of fretting over it.”

“Ditto.” Went says. 

Maggie elbows him. “We could not have said it better ourselves, Eddie.” She smiles at him. She knows Eddie is lucky to have someone as incredible as her most beloved son; but her son is also immensely lucky to have someone as kind and understanding as Eddie Kaspbrak in his life. 

“Thanks Eds.” Richie says, swiping at his eyes.

“What are friends for?” Eddie murmurs, patting Richie on the shoulder. Maggie notices the way that Eddie’s hand hand lingers longer than necessary. He squeezes him briefly as a substitute for something more romantically comforting; unwilling to go further than a squeeze for the sake of maintaining (an already failed) secrecy. 

“Oh, it’s about to start!” Maggie notices as the credits of the previous show begin to roll.

Richie wiggles uncomfortably. “Would you guys… would you guys be mad if I decided to sit outside while it’s on? I don’t really like watching myself.” He admits sheepishly, though Maggie is already aware of that. She’s seen the way he tenses up at film premieres— even in his animative work where only his voice is present. 

“You sure? This is a big deal, Rich and you should be proud.” A frown deepens the frown lines that Eddie Kaspbrak’s anxiety ridden life has branded upon him and no amount of joy he is now accustomed to experiencing in living with Richie, could ever mend. Although, Maggie did notice the smile lines around his mouth have gotten significantly more prominent which in her opinion, is a great success. 

“I’ve already watched the whole season a few times already in prep for season two and watching myself once in the show is enough.” Richie tells them. “But I’ll be just outside so please keep your boos to a low volume.”

Eddie jabs him in the ribs, eliciting a high pitched squeak from her son. “For that self deprecating comment, you are being forced to watch it with us.” 

“I believe that is a reasonable punishment.” Went agrees and Maggie nods. 

“You all suck.” Richie grumbles, slumping back against the couch as the show opens to reveal a dimly lit hotel room. 

xXx

The pilot, simply put, was perhaps the most engaging, hilarious, and artfully done things Maggie had seen in quite some time. It was unequivocally brilliant. Maggie couldn’t even take the time to steal a few glimpses at Eddie and Richie. Hell, the two could have exchanged heartfelt vows and gotten married right on the loveseat and she would not have noticed a thing for the episode, even if it was primarily exposition, captivated her attention for the entire half hour time slot. 

“That was FUCKING great, Rich!”  Eddie all but screeches as the credits darken the screen, the catchy tune of “Journal of Ardency” filling the room. He playfully punches him in the bicep, eyes gleaming with excitement. 

“That was really good, Rich.” Went says with a slow nod, his face aglow with a proud grin. “Wow. So, the next one will be on next week, right… or can you get it for us like… now?”

Richie, somewhat abashed, snorts, shoulders hunching upward as he offers them a feeble grin. “Really?” 

Something really stood out to her in the show and she knew Richie was taking a more symbolic, artistic route in regards to this show, especially compared to all of his other acting endeavors and something about the coloring of the show, especially the blue and the red lights had caught her eye. “The lights,” Maggie notes aloud and that washes away Richie’s insecurity immediately and replaces it with something she believes is thrilled delight. 

“ Yes! ” He beams at her, excited that she has made this observation.

“The red and the blue, that means something throughout the show, doesn’t it?”

He nods in earnest. “It’ll make more sense as the show progresses but it kinda involves my...I mean his dual personality with the whole Berkman and Block thing.”

“You pretentious little film nerd.” Eddie snickers, slinking his arm around Richie’s broad shoulders. “It was so good, Rich. You were amazing .” 

And he really was. Richie definitely had a fantastic cast but Maggie, even without her motherly biases and in spite of him portraying the main character and therefore was meant to be the center of attention, could not help be mesmerized by her son’s ability in this pilot. Her son had already demonstrated an impressive skill set since his career kicked off, hell since his very first theater performance in his teens, but this show showcased a side to him and emphasized a range he rarely got to present, given that he was more often than not cast for comedic roles.

“We’re really proud of you, Rich.” Maggie gushes, leaning over to give him a soft pat to his knobby ass knees. 

“But seriously, can you just let us watch all of it now ?” Went repeats and Eddie bops his head ardently.

“Seriously!” Eddie chirps. “Can you tell us the gist of next week’s episode?”

Richie snorts. “No can do.”

“What’s the point in having a famous son then?” Went grumbles and Maggie senses a vague seriousness in his tone. 

“Oh, c’mon, Rich!” Eddie whines as Richie’s phone begins to buzz— probably one of the Losers ready to congratulate him and sing their praises of the episode. 

Richie grabs his phone, finger hovering over the screen to answer the call. “You’ll all just have to wait like everyone else.” He barbs.

“ I’m like everyone else?” Eddie demands, mocking offense.

“You know you’re not.” Richie murmurs, giving Eddie a soft smile before answering the phone. 

xXx

May 2018

With the days getting longer and the air getting warmer, it meant one thing: summer was just around the corner. Yes, SoCal existed in a near eternal summer (with the exception of the sun dipping down below the horizon far too early for anyone’s liking) with temperatures that rarely dipped below the fifties, but after living there for quite a while now, Maggie could detect the seasonal changes in their “colder” months that had her longing for the drowsy heat of a June afternoon. 

An approaching summer was something that didn’t mean too much for Maggie minus the promise of extended daylight and increased traffic with tourists flocking to the west coast as her daily routine didn’t change around a summer holiday as it had when she’d been employed or when Richie was a tyke. However, for Eddie Kaspbrak, a nursing student with about two and a half more years till his residency, this time of year was not a playful tease into the warmer months to come, but rather a demoralizing period of incessant stress as a result of the final exam season that was rendering him an anxiety ridden mess or at least enhanced the anxiety that already riddled his buzzing system of nerves. 

“This is fucking stupid. I’m fucking stupid.” Eddie griped at the kitchen table, his knuckles stark white as he clutched the pink highlighter in his hand with unnecessary force, staring irritably down at a textbook that looked as if it weighed more than the average toddler. 

“You are no such thing.” Maggie tells him, placing a reassuring hand in between his tense shoulders, seating herself at the chair closest to him. 

“I have no fucking clue how I’m going to last in the nursing program if I can barely fucking pass their introductory classes.” He seethes, the anger muted by the frustrated tears pooling in his dark brown eyes.

Richie, presently engaged in writing out some of the last bits for his officially scheduled 2019 tour, glances up and offers a small smile. “Intro classes are always the hardest.” He removes himself from the seat across from Eddie, and walks over to sit by the distressed student on his opposing side, locking him a Tozier-Comfort-Sandwich. If Went was home, Eddie wouldn’t be able to get a singular word of self doubt in.  “It’s their way of trying to weed out the ones not meant for the program.”

Maggie winces internally. She knows what Richie is getting at but his word choice is poor at best.

“Oh, thanks Rich.” Eddie snaps bitterly, wiping aggressively at his eyes. “ You’re the one who encouraged this and now you’re saying I’m not meant for it? What the actual fu—”

“Not once did I say that .” Richie interrupts, his voice remaining surprisingly level. Richie has always been emotional. He’s quick to react and he wears his heart on his sleeve and shows it in his eyes, voice, and body. Maggie would expect frustration at whatever misinterpretation Eddie must have had of his words to bleed into his tone but Richie holds his composure. 

“What I mean is, literally anyone who has been as stressed as you’ve been would have quit by now,” Richie wraps an arm loosely around Eddie’s narrower shoulders. Eddie easily sinks into the touch, the lines of vexation softening. “and I’m sure by next semester, you’ll be able to see that several of your classmates have quit when the classes start getting smaller.” That startles a wet chuckle from the smaller man. “And you will have stayed because you’re a determined little fucker in spite of all this shit wearing on you because you’re meant to be there and you’re going to become the goddamned best nurse for all the kiddos lucky to meet you, SpagEds.” 

Eddie shakes his head, ears deaf to the genuine words of reassurance. His dams break and tears cascade past the dark circles beneath weary eyes and down the thin lines of his cheeks. His trembling hands find their way into his hair, gripping it tighter than the fierce hold he’d had on his highlighter. Eddie is exhausted mentally and physically. He’s spent the better half of the last week barely sleeping as he’s been so heavily occupied in studying for each of his exams, which to his misfortune, are all cumulative and have him bending over backwards to recall information he’s not thought about since the start of the semester. He had finally snapped under the pressure.

“Oh, honey.” Maggie whispers in his ear, pulling him close to her chest in a hug that surrounds him with the warmth and love only a mother can provide. “It’s okay.” 

He hiccups a sob that wrenches Maggie’s heart painfully and creeps something of anguish upon her son’s features. “It’s just so frustrating th-that I’m literally the oldest person in all my fucking classes and I just feel like I was so stupid to ever think I could restart my life in my forties while all these young kids are in their prime and are going to surely be way fucking better than me at this anyway.”

“There’s nothing wrong about “restarting your life” as you have put it, in your forties. Time was going to pass you by no matter what so why stay in something you hated when the days could continue to come your way and bring you something worth waking up to?” Richie says startlingly wise. “It doesn’t matter if you’re older or younger than anyone around you. None of them matter.  All that matters is you’re doing what you want, Eds.”

“But I’m not going to be as good as them. I just know it.” He whimpers.

“Honey, you are the most qualified person to be in this field.” Maggie says and she means it. “Yes the academic part matters a significant amount and you’ve been doing marvelous in that regard, but what matters even more is your personality and you have the best one for this field. You’re compassionate, patient, and so very loving.”

“To everyone except me.” Richie sniffs playfully, managing to draw a mild snort from Eddie, the smile just barely faltering against the frown dragging his mouth downward.  

Maggie rolls her eyes halfheartedly. Oh the Tozier men in her life are unquestionably the most ridiculous men to grace the planet. “Any child would be lucky to have Nurse Spaghetti in their corner helping them through whatever is ailing them. You have the heart for this, Eds. You really do.”

“I just don’t see how I can care for anyone… adequately, given my rather, er— interesting history with my mother.”

Richie’s face breaks into a magnificent grin. “ That’s what makes you the most qualified, Eddie.” He boops him affectionately upon the tip of his nose to which Eddie squawks indignantly at. “You know what not to do. You know how scary hospitals can be because of your hot ass of a m— ACK sorry,” Richie grimaces, rubbing his ribs that briefly became victim to a sudden attack from the sharp jab of Eddie’s elbow, “You know how scary hospitals can be because of your mom and because of that you’ll be able to comfort any patient in a way not many people can.”

Eddie averts his eyes, looking up at the ceiling. He blinks away another wave of tears threatening to break the surface of his eyes. Richie moves his hand to the middle of his back and moves his hand in a soothing motion. Maggie pretends to not think anything of it but the motion speaks for itself and it also screams of their glaring stupidity in believing they could ever sneak under her nose.

“And this ,” Richie jerks his head toward Eddie and rolls his neck around them, a gesture to the situation unfolding before them, “this worrying about being good enough or about hurting someone is just proof that you could never hurt anyone Eds. You care too much to ever wrong anyone. I know this is stressful but you are doing such a good job and I… we are all so proud of you, Eds. You should be too. You’re on your way to waking up to a life that feels exciting to have each day.”

“You already make each day exciting for me.” Eddie mutters, taking a long, grounding breath.

Richie smiles. “You’re going to do just fine on these exams and you’re going to do amazing in your future residency. Just… just take a break, honestly. Go upstairs and please , for the love of all that is good in the world, get some rest. You need it, Eds.”

“He’s right, sweetheart.” Maggie nods and Eddie looks at her, searching for the approval he never received from a mother and easily finding it in the kind expression of her aging, but still soft features. 

“Okay.” He nods. “I’m so—”

“No, no. None of that.” Richie interjects. “We all need our ugly moments to find something beautiful.”

Eddie purses his lips for a moment but agrees. “Okay.” He heaves out another breath to relax his system. “Thanks… both of you. It means a lot.” He closes the textbook. “I’m gonna go up to ou— my room and lay down.”

“Alrighty, sweetie. We both love you.” Maggie tells him as he slips from their warming touch to leave.

“That we do.” Richie agrees. “I’m going to go upstairs and make sure he doesn’t need anything else.” 

It’s a half-assed code for: “I’m going to go upstairs and lay down in our bed together and hold him until he falls asleep.” Maggie does not point out that she is fully aware of what he means by that. Instead she nods casually. “Alright, hon.” She squeezes her son’s hand. “You really did a good job with him.” She cups his stubbled cheek, proud of the man she’s raised. “You have a good heart, Dickard.”

“Learned from the best.” He says and he leaves to comfort his love.

xXx

Eddie passes each of his exams with flying colors and even makes Dean’s List

xXx

June 2018

As they had declared last summer, Bill and Audra had been trying for a baby and had been successful in “having spawn producing sex” as Richie had graciously put it, and were now blessed (or stuck with as Richie again put it) with a two month old little girl whom the Tozier family, plus Eddie, were about to make the not-too-long drive over to Bill’s L.A. home in order to meet, since Richie had a break in filming, Eddie had the summer off until classes started back up in the fall, and simply because Bill and Audra were in a position where they had their schedule with their infant downpat and felt as if they were ready were visitors (so as long as they took all the appropriate sanitary measures before holding little Georgia Evangeline Denbrough.

“They really screwed that kid over with that long ass name.” Richie snickered as he opened a drawer, examining it’s contents with an expression of consternation. 

Oftentimes, when one reaches adulthood, they grow out of their ADHD or are able to medicate it. Richie never did grow out of it and ADHD medication, as it did when he was a child, did not react well with his system. Plus, Richie and anyone who actually appreciated him, did not particularly mind the “quirks” that accompanied the disorder for a lot of his charm seemed to go in conjunction with some of the more common features of ADHD so Maggie really didn’t mind seeing him go unmedicated even if that meant him being an exhaustive ball of energy, becoming easily distracted, and of course,  constantly losing random objects. 

Right now, said object, was his car keys. 

“Your middle name is literally Wentworth . You have no room to criticize anyone’s name.”  Eddie scoffs as he scans the mantle for his keys. Technically they could easily take a different car but Richie was determined to take the dark blue Mercedes since he believed that if they happened to bring the baby outside, that color of vehicle would be the least offensive and aggravating to her delicate eyes even if, as Maggie informed him, most babies couldn’t really distinguish much color this early on anyway. His heart was in the right place. That’s all that mattered. 

“Hey! I take offense to that!” Went calls to Eddie with feigned offense. “But you’re totally right. Magma screwed Richie over on that one.”

“I think all of you have lovely names and I think that Bill’s daughter has a beautiful name.” Maggie states truthfully. 

“Biased.” Richie and Went say together in unison. 

“Where the fuck are your keys, Richie.” Eddie grumbles.

“I’ll check upstairs. I might’ve put them in my shower.”

No one asks why. With Richie, it’s not a question that needs answering. They simply let him jog up the stairs and away from them. 

“Honestly, he has how many cars and he’s insistent on taking this one?” Went huffs, growing somewhat impatient. It’s been a while since he and Maggie have had the chance to hold a baby and they are each admittedly, quite thrilled by this opportunity. 

“He wants to make a good impression on the baby.” Eddie says. 

“Wait, what?” Maggie’s brows knit together. “He wants to… impress a baby?” An exasperated laugh escapes her throat. Her son is something else. 

“I mean, not necessarily impress the baby but I think he’s worried that she won’t like him?” Eddie shakes his head, chuckling at her son’s antics. “He was kinda freaking out about what to wear over there and I mean really freaking out.” That’s astonishing in itself. Richie has never once in his life given a singular thought about what he was wearing. “He wanted to dress nice but he also wanted to make sure that what he was wearing was soft so that the baby was comfortable. Honestly, I found it rather sweet.” Eddie finishes, his tone gaining a dream-like quality to it; he’s completely besotted. 

Then it dawns upon her: Richie has never really been around a baby in his entire life. He was an only child, he was the youngest of his cousins, and he never went into the Denbrough home when Georgie was an infant as Sharon was fully aware of her son’s “volume problem” and did not tend to invite him inside where he could be around her younger son. Babies are an entirely foreign experience to him so the anxiety and uncertainty presenting itself in the form of choosing a specific car to arrive in and contemplating fabrics is completely valid. If anything, these concerns and precautionary measures, while excessive in nature, remind her of a new parent. 

“This will be the first baby he’s ever held, I believe.” Maggie informs the other two men.

Eddie’s brows jump upward before his face melts into a contemplative expression. “That explains a lot. I’ve only really been around my nieces and nephews with Myra but I still know what and what not to do around a baby.” 

“Do you think Bill would sue Richie if he dropped her?” Went inquires.

“Don’t say that!” Maggie scolds.

“It is a possibility. Our son is the klutziest person to have walked—no, tripped across this planet.”

“He gets that from you.” Maggie reminds him.

“Okay, you already know I’m on the verge of bringing up that time you fell and chipped your tooth,” she shoots him a glare and Eddie giggles loudly,  “but also I am fully aware that you’re right because I definitely might have dropped him once or twice when you left me alone with him.” 

Color leaves her face. “You what ?!” 

“Hey, you can’t be mad at me now. He’s forty-two and perfectly fine.”

“Debatable.” Eddie jeers. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes squeezed shut in slight irritation. She thinks she would have been better off not knowing that tidbit of information. She huffs out a long breath. “Fucking hell.” Toziers, a breed of their own. 

“But I will admit, I don’t think he’s going to drop her. He’ll be completely fine and it is rather endearing that he is this nervous about it.” Went chuckles a bit. “Maybe it’ll drive him to want a few of his own.”

Eddie stays silent but the twitch of his jaw and roll of his neck indicates deeper thought. 

xXx

  Richie’s keys ended up being found in the freezer which although strange, wasn’t anything to bat an eye at for anyone well versed in the type of person her son was. The hunt for the keys did cause them to arrive slightly later than they had initially planned on being at the Denbrough residence, which from experience, Maggie knew such shifts in schedule for a newborn could completely uproot a parent’s entire week, but luckily they weren’t too behind and Bill and Audra seemed to anticipate their tardiness anyway. Afterall, Bill had known Richie since they were little ones stumbling about on the playground. 

“Hey! It’s good to see you all.” Bill greets them, looking a little worn down, but fairing well enough for a new parent.

“Congratulations, Bill!” Maggie all but cheers as she pulls the tired man into a tight hug. “How’s Audra?”

“Thanks,” Bill grins, “and she’s been doing really well. Not too tired anymore or at least not anymore tired than you’re supposed to be when waking up every four hours with a newborn.”

“No colic?” Went asks as Bill takes them toward his rather lavish looking kitchen in order for them each to use a hypoallergenic soap upon their hands before they go up to hold his daughter. As she scrubs at her hands, Maggie has memories of their first hectic nights with her son and how she easily detected the issue simply because she knew her boy incredibly well then and she certainly did now.

“No, thankfully.” Bill shakes his head in the negative, visibly relieved by the lack of intestinal issues in his daughter. “Completely healthy. Ten fingers, ten toes, and lungs that work ridiculously well.” 

“Congratulations on contributing to the overpopulation problem.” Richie teases, punching him playfully in the shoulder. 

“Thanks, Rich.” Bill snorts, punching him back. “So, you gotta tell me,” he says as he guides them through the front entrance and up toward the nursery, “Is she really dead?” They’re about to meet Bill’s first born child, something miraculous and life changing, but of course, these morons are more preoccupied with the show Richie thought no one could ever like. 

“Don’t even try it.” Eddie sniffs. “He won’t even tell me .”

Richie shrugs wordlessly and any of the goofy ambience and the snarky humor that he usually brought along with him when visiting any of the Losers vanishes the second they enter the space-themed nursery where Audra, looking beautiful as ever even with the faint purple smudges beneath her eyes and tousled hair, sits in a rocker, gently going back and forth whilst holding a small bundle. 

He swallows audibly and blinks several times as he takes in the image of the small human with a head covered in a small amount of downy fuzz that is more the color of Audra’s mousy brown hair as opposed to the warm auburn shade Bill had in his youth. The baby’s soft face has clearly lost the splotchiness that most newborns have when they’re very fresh out of the womb and is set in a peaceful look as the baby, while not capable of seeing much, gazes upon a figure she knows to be her beautiful mother. 

Maggie sees the look of sheer adoration shining in Bill’s eyes as he gazes upon his wife; not a whisper of their troubles from 2016 anywhere in sight as he leans his shoulder up against the doorframe, fondly admiring his wife and their little girl. He pulls his gaze away long enough to grin at them and allow the Tozier family plus Eddie, to enter the nursery. 

“Oh, she’s absolutely darling .” Maggie says just over a whisper as she inches closer to the pair, her heart overflowing with a desire to return to the days where she was a new mother, graced with the unmatched feeling of unconditional love as she held her baby, now a fully grown man, for the first time. 

“She can be.” Audra replies with a small giggle, her eyes barely leaving her daughter’s face. Maggie knows the feeling. In what looks to be the effort of moving mountains, she looks away and at the family before her, “Who’s first?”

“Magma will probably burst a coronary if we don’t let her hold her first.” Went answers and Maggie wants to say something snarky, but he’s probably right. It’s just been so long since she’s gotten to hold a baby and she’s fit to bursting with excitement now that she’s actually seeing the delicate looking person before her. 

“Of course.” Audra chuckles, easing herself up and adjusting little Georgia to not jostle her much in the motion, a skill quickly learned by all new parents. “I already know you know what you’re doing.” Audra snorts as Maggie sits and has her arms already set to hold the baby. 

“I like to think so.” She replies as Audra places the comfortably warm weight of the baby in her arms which immediately causes her eyes to burn and nose to tickle as a plethora of emotions burn within her. “Oh, hello dear.” She says softly, the baby blinking slowly as it attempts to make sense of this new voice belonging to a person she must know has never held her before. Maggie fears that perhaps the baby will break into sobs as her face twists slightly but all that comes is a body jolting sneeze. “Oh! Big sneeze, huh?” 

She finds herself transfixed for an indistinguishable amount of time as she bounces her heels slowly to rock the baby in a soothing motion, completely disengaged from whatever conversation the others have fallen into. She begins to hum softly, the baby tangibly contended as she releases soft snuffling noises that warm her heart in a way she’s not felt in over forty years. 

Went is edging toward her, clearly wanting his own turn with the baby so she supposes it’s time to pass the baby over to her husband before she becomes too attached and attempts to sneak the tyke away. 

“We should have had another.” Maggie informs him as they trade places and he sits with his arms at the ready, of course, in the appropriate position to support her small head.

“No. I was the only baby you needed.” Richie interjects teasingly, but Maggie knows there’s a serious undertone to his seemingly playful words. He’s always been a glutton for attention and Maggie knows that a little one would have deprived him of the constant attention he’d yearned for as a kid and even now he needed it; hence him having a career in the entertainment industry. 

Went snickers at that. “Oh, that’s nice.” He sighs as he settles himself with Georgia. Maggie cocks her head a bit, confused. “I forgot how babies are literally human heating pads and I was getting a little chilly in here.” 

Bill snorts loudly at that. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t come to hold her sometimes just to warm myself up.”  

“Hello there, Alabama.” Went gushes, eyes softening behind his glasses. 

“I was going to make that joke.” Richie whines.

“And you have a career in comedy.” Bill scoffs.

“And you still somehow have your career in writing with all those god awful endings.” Richie snaps back.

“Hey!” Audra exclaims at a level volume as to not startle her relaxed baby, resting in the arms of Maggie’s husband. “They’ve gotten better.”

“Yeah except you killed me off in It .” Eddie says with an unheated glare. 

“Wait, you knew that Matt was supposed to be you?” 

Richie stares at him with a dumbfounded expression. “Are you serious? It was all very obvious who was who.”

Bill shrugs innocently. “Well, I dunno.” He scratches the back of his head. “I gave you all different careers and tried to alter your personalities a bit so no one would realize I was writing about some of my famous friends who all experienced the same, very real demon clown trauma as me which if anyone realized that I was basing it off real life, would probably find a way to have me and the rest of us all committed somewhere.”

“I’ve already done that.” Richie snorts to which Eddie glowers deeply at her son. It’s still not a subject he’s willing to joke about and Maggie has to agree. “But I suppose you did a decent job at changing us. I wasn’t nearly as obnoxious as you wrote Harley to be.”

“Yeah, you were more obnoxious.” Eddie snickers as he edges toward Went, eager for his own turn to hold the baby. 

Richie huffs, disgruntled, but says nothing as Eddie takes Georgia from Went. Eddie is at ease, obviously familiar with the task of holding a baby and is a clear natural at it. Richie looks at him with a longing—for what, Maggie is not entirely sure, but she has a sneaking feeling.

“Hello there.” Eddie greets, his voice soft and easy.

“She definitely likes you.” Audra tells him, leaning into Bill, humming contentedly as he wraps his arms around her. 

“I’m honored.” Eddie chuckles and he sits there for a while, rocking Georgia until her dusky eyes blink owlishly at him, a yawn breaking her peaceful face.  “Oh, you’re gettin’ tuckered out, huh?”

“She ate just before you all came. She’ll probably go down for a nap real soon.” Bill tells them. 

Eddie nods in acknowledgement. “Well, if you can, try and stake awake long enough for Rich to hold you, yeah?” 

Richie tenses a bit, swallowing thickly, shoulders hunching toward his ears. “Oh, it’s okay.” He brushes off. “If she needs to rest, give her back to Audra or Billiam. I don’t wanna be the reason she doesn’t get her nap in.”

“Oh, nonsense.” Audra waves her hand at him.

“It’s okay, really.” Richie defends, unease coming off him in powerful waves.

“You good, Rich?” Bill asks, placing a hand upon his friend’s shoulder. Despite his smaller stature, Bill almost seems larger than her timid son with the fatherly energy he now exudes. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Richie fibs, face going whiter than his normal pasty complexion.

“Richie has never held a baby.” Eddie explains, remembering what Maggie told him and Went earlier. “He’s terrified of hurting her.”

“Rich, darling,” Audra starts, “you couldn’t hurt anyone even if you tried, which I know you wouldn’t, you big ol’ softie.” 

He grimaces a bit. “I don’t want to drop her or make her cry.” He twists his hands, pulling his finger until they pop against his abdomen. “She seems so peaceful.” His voice drops in volume and he won’t meet any of their eyes, suddenly focused on the tops of his shoes. Maggie notices that they’re a pair of birkenstocks with vibrant socks underneath. She has a feeling, based on what Eddie told her earlier in regards to his outfit selection (an oversized sweatshirt that was notedly soft) that he chose those shoes not because her son’s fashion taste is questionable at best, but because the soles didn’t clack or squeak when they pattered across Bill’s wood floors and he didn’t want to risk creating any unnecessary noise around the baby.  “I don’t want to mess that up.” His voice is infected with insecurity and self doubt.

“Oh honey, you’ll be just fine.” Audra says sincerely. “Here,” she gestures to Eddie to hand the baby back to him. “Sit down, Rich”

Bill gives Richie a gentle shove. “Relax a bit, alright? She can tell when you’re nervous and if anything that’ll upset her more than if you forget to hold her head right.”

“I can barely hold my fat head up,” Richie attempts to joke, “do you really trust me to try and support her head?”

“I’d trust you with her life, Richie.” Bill tells him and Maggie thinks that Richie might just burst into tears right there but miraculously, he channels some of the meager emotional regulation that he possesses and does not succumb to such an intense display of emotion. 

“As do I.” Audra agrees, easing Richie into the chair. “Now put your arms like this,” she indicates to Eddie who is kindly doing a little demonstration for him. Richie mirrors the motion, jaw set as if setting himself up to hold a baby is as daunting of a task as climbing Mount Everest during a blizzard. “Yup, just like that. Just keep your elbow propped on the pillow and her head won’t go bobbling.”  

“Okay, then what?”

“Just hold her. Don’t be afraid to talk to her and hey, lower your shoulders, yeah that’s it. Take a deep breath, Rich.” Audra smiles encouragingly at him. “Good.”

“Will you take her if she starts crying?” Richie asks.

“Of course.” Audra promises. “But I doubt she will. I’ve hugged you before Rich, and you’ll be quite comfy for her.”

“I’ve been going to the gym.” Richie says defensively.

“I know that.” Bill shoots her a look but she dismisses him. She doesn’t seem to notice the glare that burns across Eddie’s face but Maggie and Went sure do notice. “You’re like hugging a high quality, extra firm mattress and she’ll like that.” Audra teases. 

Richie snorts. “Wouldn’t go that far but please take her if she starts crying as soon as she does.”

“Don’t fret so much, Dickard.” 

“Language.” Bill scolds. “Baby ears!” 

Maggie snorts to herself. She can only wish she had managed to watch her sailor mouth around her son when he was small. She had certainly tried but to no avail if his comedy was any indication. 

“Alright, you ready?” Audra asks.

“I think, yeah.” Richie decides, releasing a long breath of air, as if attempting to breathe out the anxiety firing through his nerves. 

“Here you go.” She places Georgia in his correctly arranged arms and steps away, allowing the rest of them to admire the way Richie looks as he dwarfs the sleepy baby, who does not seem deterred in the slightest by his untrained touch. “You’re doing fine.”

And he is. Maggie has to take steady breaths as a wash of feeling erupts within her; threatening to throw her into some fit of tears as she sees Richie, a near clone of his father, holding a small bundle. She feels like she’s been transported back in time to the first time she, groggy and achy in a hospital bed, glanced over and saw the heart stopping sight of her beloved husband holding who was now the man before her, for the very first time. She thinks she fell even more in love with her husband on that day and seeing his doppelganger, their son, holding a baby just takes her back to that poignant memory and makes her feel awed that they have successfully raised a man capable of taking himself through an abundance of undeserved obstacles and becoming a stellar human being.

“Hi there.” Richie says, mimicking what he’s heard the rest of them say to the little one. “I’m sorry that you got stuck with Billiam as your dad, but you really do have a cool mom, just like me.” She yawns, stretching within the confines of her swaddle, a small fist managing to break through an opening of the blanket before resting upon what would be her belly beneath the layers of wrapped fabric.

The baby blinks a few times, foggy eyes resting upon Richie’s face.

“Her hands are so little.” Richie comments, his voice  just barely audible. He touches her hand with his index finger that is nearly the size of her tricep. 

“Yeah,” Bill agrees, smiling dreamily at the sight of his baby. 

Georgia moves her hand from beneath Richie’s and suddenly she’s grasping his index finger in her fist and Richie releases a soft gasp.

“Oh, wow you’re strong .”

“She likes you.” Audra informs him.

“Your taste is awfully rotten.” Richie declares, wiggling his finger within the entrapment of the baby’s powerful grasp. Maggie can still remember the first time she felt her son hold her finger like that and it has her brushing tears that manage to seep past the surface of her eyes, clinging to her lashes just before they threaten to make their descent in a manner that would expose her emotional state. 

Went notices though. He always does with her. He places a hand in the small of her back and it’s everything to her. “You look good holding a baby, Rich.” 

“You really do Rich.” Bill chortles. “Maybe you can meet yourself a man,” Bill glances at Maggie and Went, fully aware, thanks to Bev (and the bet he lost alongside Ben and Patty), that they too know of Richie and Eddie’s not-so-secret relationship status, “and get yourself one and we can start a new generation of Losers.”

“We can’t do that.” Richie says, his eyes not moving from the sight of Georgia slowly falling asleep in his arms while still clutching his finger with the impressive strength of an infant. “Bev and Ben are set on having a dog farm in fucking Nebraska, Mike doesn’t want kids since he sees plenty of them in Disney, and obviously none of our kids will get their honorary clown trauma and become cool enough to be Losers like we are.”

“But your future kid isn’t off the table?” Audra challenges. 

“I dunno.” Richie shrugs. “Never really thought about it until… I guess, now .” He admits with a smile as he continues to stare down at Georgia.

Maggie steals a glance at Eddie who stares at Richie with absolute adoration and a pinch in his bold brows that indicate that he is deep in thought. This, what Bill and Audra have with a baby, is something that Maggie can tell, Eddie wants for him and Richie. 

xXx

July 2018

To say that pretending they didn’t know about Richie and Eddie dating in spite of their painfully obvious nature of affection was getting somewhat old would be a side splitting understatement. Sure, at first there was a level of endearment to it—pretending to ignore the adoring gazes, fleeting touches, and not-so-fast lip brushes— but that was long gone. Maggie understood Richie not wanting to go public with his relationship as the paparazzi was composed of soulsucking demons that had zero regard for anyone’s privacy, but maintaining this facade of being a  single man when he was a good actor on camera, but shockingly god awful in person, was in Maggie’s opinion, utterly ridiculous.

  She and Went, quite frankly, were ready to confront them (in a gentle and non-accusatory manner) and let them know that they did know and that they had known and this was a safe place— and that of course, it was about time they finally got back together… or was it something equivalent to renewing wedding vows since, as Maggie had pointed out multiple, the two never did break off their high school romance. 

She had it all planned out. A confrontation masked as a family outing. The four of them were going to have a pleasant brunch at an exclusive restaurant near the beach that Richie had managed to get reservations for and then spend the day warming their skin under a California sun at a private beach, perhaps go on a small boat outing, and then watch the sun dip below the horizon and stare in awe as the sky painted itself pink and orange, illuminating the landscape in a gold that could never stay. The aesthetic, in the more artistic side of her mind has her she convinced that it would set a warm and welcoming tone to the situation and while they admired the beauty of the closing day, she and Went would tell them that they knew and they could finally put all of this behind them and get on with their lives. 

Unfortunately, Richie had fallen ill with a stomach bug that was proving to be near debilitating as he had been laid up in bed since the night before; so any chance of confronting their little issue was completely off the table— even if the two continued to make it glaringly obvious that they were together.

“No, you two should still go out for the day.” Eddie reassures. “I’ll take care of him and you guys have a little day for yourselves for once.”

“The reservations were for four. We could always reschedule.” Went suggests.

Eddie dismisses the idea with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Nah. The guy who plays Fuches, Stephen, is close friends with the owner, so it really isn’t that hard for Richie to get a table there,” a toying smirk plays at his mouth, “and just about everyone in Cali knows that Richie is the rich man equivalent of an incel living in his mother’s basement by having his parents move in with him since he is a clingy bastard, so just about anyone that knows and likes Richie, adores you both so they won’t mind if the entire table is not there.” 

“Are you sure?” Maggie asks. “We don’t mind just having a day here or helping out with Richie since we all know he’s got the self preservation instincts of a mayfly and can be a terror to look after when he’s like this.” 

Eddie snorts. “This’ll be like practice for my residency and really, you two haven’t had a day in far too long. We’ll be fine and I want to help him out.” His face drops a bit. “But do you think it makes me bad to want to take care of him?” 

There it is. The constant fear that expressing any ounce of care for anyone he loves makes him his conniving mother— may her soul burn in eternity— or his overbearing wife. Eddie, while much better off than he had been when he first came out to California, still struggles to differentiate between genuine love, fueled by compassion and a desire to actually help someone, and manipulative love, poisoned by a desire to break someone down and hold them back so they will forever remain overly reliant and stuck in their clutches. 

“God, no.” Went reassures. “You’ve always been such a help to him and that doesn’t mean you’re anything like… them .” Eddie seems unconvinced. “Look, do you want him to stay sick?”

Eddie shakes his head at neck cracking speed. “Definitely not. He can be such a baby.”

“Then you’re nothing like them.” Went says easily “That’s all you need to remember.” 

Eddie loves her son and she knows this. He told her just as his divorce started moving along. They’re together now. It’s reasonable for him to want to help his significant other and look out for him when he’s in such a pitiful state. She wants to remind him of this but since it would be better to address the nature of their relationship with Richie around and in a more coherent state, but that’s not going to happen so instead she settles for something less suggestive, “You care about him.” Richie is his soulmate . “Richie is your best friend.”

Eddie appears to accept this. 

“I s’pose we can always use a day for ourselves.” Went shrugs. “It’s impossible to get any time with you two schmucks always bumbling about.”

“We do have an entire guest house.” Maggie points out. 

“Well, the main house has the bigger TV so why would we stay there?” Went shrugs. 

Eddie shakes his head, snickering at the two of them. Maggie thinks he appreciates their foolery more than her son simply because he never was subject to the charming embarrassment that comes with the territory of a healthy family or at least a family that Maggie likes to think has a healthy dynamic. 

“You two go on and have fun.” 

xXx

It really has been too long since Maggie’s had any alone time with Went and perhaps Richie falling ill and thwarting their initial plans was a good thing, she thinks to herself as she admires the explosion of colors over the horizon line, her husband humming a tune she can’t quite pinpoint next to her as he rubs his hands down the lines of her spine. She glances up at him and takes in the way the golden light illuminates his wrinkled features and casts a halo of light over his thinned, silvery hair that he’s long since stopped coloring and she can only think that he is the most handsome man in the world. 

“What’re you lookin’ at?” Went teases, apparently having felt the prickling sensation of her watching him.

“The luckiest man in the world.” She taunts.

“Oh am I?”

“Are you?”

He smiles, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling, “I’d say so.” He confirms softly, pressing a kiss into her mess of beach-breeze-swept grey-blonde curls. 

She pulls her head away from his lips, peering up at him. “Love you.”

“Love you more.”

“Love you the most.”

“Love you the most plus one.”

“Love you the most plus a hundred.”

“And I still love you one more than that.” 

“Not fair.”

“Oh but it is. I am a doctor  and I know this to be scientifically correct.”

“Doctor of teeth.” She huffs. “One of the smallest body parts.”

“Ah, but the most demanding and high maintenance of all the body parts.” 

“Oh shut up you igit and kiss me.” She demands, feeling younger than she has in a while.

He does as she says, moving his hands into her hair and smiling against her lips before continuing to fall deeper into the kiss. It’s been too long since they’ve had intimacy like this. In the back of her mind which is currently firing neurons at the rate of a firework finale on the fourth of July in Boston, she briefly recalls seeing older couples when she was younger and admiring the way they possessed a love that seemed undying and beautiful in a way that warmed her heart and she knows that the two of them, old, grey, and completely and utterly enamored with one another, are the couples she’d always aspired to emulate. 

The moment however, tender and perfect, is ruined with the buzzing of the phone tucked away in her back packet. “Motherfucker.” She grumbles into his mouth, pulling away.

“I mean yes, that isn’t an inaccurate statement.” Went shrugs as she sees that it is Eddie and shows it to him to which he responds with, “Fucking cockblock Kaspbrak.”

“We weren’t going to fuck on the beach.” She hisses, answering the device as Went guffaws loudly. “Hi Eddie.” She loves the man. He’s a son to her but she was also rather enjoying herself with her husband. Hopefully it’s nothing too important so she can continue. 

“Hey Maggie, uh we have a problem.” His voice is strained, flooded with worry and she finds her spine going ramrod straight and just with the tone of his quivering voice, she feels anxiety and concern overpowering the amativeness she’d been overcome with.

“What’s going on?” Went narrows his eyes at her, leaning toward her phone in hopes of catching some of the conversation through the tinny speakers. She knows his hearing has suffered with age so she takes initiative and puts the phone on speaker since they’re in a more secluded area of the beach.  

“Richie kinda went downhill in the last hour and I think I need to take him to the hospital.” Eddie informs her, taking a pause before asking, “Went had an appendicitis when we were kids, right?”

  She sighs.“Yes. He did.” It makes sense. The abdominal pain and nausea. The listless behavior and high fever. She should’ve put the pieces together earlier. Hell, Went definitely should have, having had personal experience with the ailment. But of course, (future) Nurse Spaghetti has beat them to it. She does, admittedly, feel a little better now despite the fact that she knows her son will be in surgery in the next few hours. It’s nothing life threatening but she does pity him because she can remember the twisted grimace of pain her husband had worn when his useless little organ had gone too hot. 

“I think that’s what we’re dealing with. All of his pain is more localized in the—”

“Right side.” She and Went say together.

“Yeah.” Eddie groans. “I’m going to take him to the hospital right now and I just wanted to let you know.” 

“Okay, we’ll meet you there.” Maggie says and Went pouts at that, to which he receives a pinch to his thigh. 

“He’ll be okay, right?” Eddie asks, nervously.

She smiles, remembering how fearful she’d been for her husband that summer when he’d been wheeled back into what was perhaps one of the simplest surgeries performed. “Yes, Eds. It’s an easy procedure and he’ll probably even be able to go home tomorrow.” 

“You’re positive? I mean he’s been sick since last night and that means he’s in the appropriate timeframe for it to have bur—”

“Is he screaming at all?” Went asks. 

“No. Mostly just groaning.”

“Richie’s pain tolerance isn’t exactly impressive so if it had burst, you’d definitely know.”  

“What a weird way to kick our son while he’s down.” Maggie remarks.

“He’s not wrong.” Eddie chuckles. “But thanks, Went. That helps me personally.” She can hear the jingle of car keys. “I’m gonna help him into the car and we’ll see you at the hospital soon, I suppose.” 

She hangs up. “Fuck.” She rubs her face with her hands. What a way to end a near perfect day.

“His life has been going too well lately what with the rumored Emmy nomination, season two filming, and of course dating his childhood sweetheart behind his overbearing parent’s backs.” Went barely attempts to reassure. 

“No, I know.” Maggie pouts and she feels awful for what unintentionally slips past her lips, “I was just enjoying this .”

“What an asshole.” Went scoffs. “Getting sick at a time like this?!” 

“I mean if he hadn’t gotten sick we wouldn’t have had today to ourselves.”  

“But we also would have gotten to finish today or,” a devilish grin cast upon his face, “we would have been able to confront those two idiots by now.” He reminds her.

“God, what an asshole.” Maggie repeats Went’s previous sentiments, shaking her head. She does however feel marginally guilty given that her son definitely feels beyond dreadful right now and will be in surgery within the next two hours. “We’re really awful parents, huh?”

“Nah.” Went stands up slowly, attempting to ignore the creaks of his body and like a Tozier gentleman, holds his hands out to pull her up which she gladly uses but makes sure not to put all of her not-too-significant weight upon his body. “I do feel bad because I know how this feels and I wish I would’ve noticed the signs a bit earlier but I also know he’ll be right back to his regular goofy self within a week or so.” 

“I sure hope so.” She sighs, slipping her hand into his and trekking back to their car.

“He’ll be pretty high on painkillers after the procedure so we probably could get him to admit that he and Eddie are dating.”

“Are you suggesting that we take advantage of our son’s compromised state?” Maggie blinks, shocked and perhaps a touch appalled. 

“Oh, no. I’m saying we definitely do it.” 

“You’re a shithead, Wentworth Tozier.”

“You’re not disagreeing.”

“Because you’re right” She shrugs. She won’t just bluntly ask it but if Richie has a loose tongue when he’s drugged to the gills, she certainly will make no efforts to stop him from professing his ongoing relations with Eddie Kaspbrak. “But don’t go asking him blatantly if he’s dating him. If it happens to slip? Stellar. Anything else would be taking advantage of him, jackass. That’s our son .”

“We’re living rent free with him in a private guest house. We’re not taking advantage of him already?”

She snorts at the hilarity of his suggestion. “Richie wanted us to move in because he loves us you idiot so it was totally self serving.” She cackles, knowing full well that Richie also wanted them to be eternally comfortable and not worry in the slightest about outrageous California mortgage rates because his heart for his parents, and just about anyone he loved was bigger than his brain. “It was just mere convenience for us that we aren’t paying a dime.”

And a total blessing that they got to see their son every single day but that goes without saying. 

xXx

As expected, Richie’s procedure was simple, easy, and left him goofed up on drugs that were actually legal for once—not that Maggie liked thinking too much of the other types of drugs that composed much of his past since no part of that previous life would, in her opinion, ever define him aside from the label of “ Recovered” that Richie proudly wore like a badge of honor. According to Eddie, he’d been fairly adamant up until the minute he was put under, which occurred just before Maggie and Went arrived at the hospital, that he would not accept any pain killers but by the looks and sounds of things, Richie had quickly changed his mind and was positively floating on a morphine induced high. 

He was scheduled for discharge tomorrow evening, but for now he was cooped up in his bed, eyes glazed, and words slurring off his tongue, slow and thick like syrup. “I just wanna go home and… snuggle.” He slurs, jostling the IV slightly as he waggles a finger at them. “Fuckin’ bed sucks.”

“I know it’s hard to be deprived from your California King bed.” Went dramatically laments. 

“I am a Califorrrrnia Queen.” Richie gurgles, clearing his throat loudly.

“Not the Dancing Queen?” Eddie questions.

Richie’s expression falters into something resembling a dejected puppy before the dopey grin of an adequately stoned patient returns to his features. “Both.” He nods in confirmation, head seemingly loose upon his neck as it bobbles a bit and Maggie, sitting closest to him, manages to catch him before gravity takes hold and has him toppling over the side of the bed and eases him back against his pillows.

Visiting hours were technically over, but the nurse was kind enough to let them in, perhaps because he was celebrity and because she’d been utterly confused when her son had been begging to have “Spaghetti” despite acknowledging (to the best of his loopy ability) that he was not allowed solid food for the next twelve hours.

“He’s becoming quite irate and is adamant that he have food right now.” She had explained to them. “We just want to make sure it’s okay if we elect to sedate him further given his medical history in case this behavior worsens.”

Eddie had sighed. “You said he wanted spaghetti?”

“Yes sir.”

“That would be me.” Eddie had confessed to which the nurse looked befuddled, evidently confused by what kind of seemingly eccentric people she was dealing with. “It’s his nickname for me.” 

“Oh,” she’d replied with a relieved expression in that she was not indeed dealing with a bunch of crazy folk (which was still up for debate if you asked Maggie). “visiting hours are technically supposed to be over but seeing as he’s being moved to a private room, I see no problem in allowing you all to visit, especially if him seeing his Spaghetti will calm him down and we won’t have to resort to any unnecessary sedation.”

Additional sedation or not, Richie was undeniably zooted off his ass and Went was attempting to make him look more of a fool than he normally was and of course wiggle information pertaining to him and Eddie out of him since they were, still, growing tired of tiptoeing around them. 

“Any secrets deep inside ya, Rich?” Went taunts with a shiteating grin. 

Richie’s eyes narrow, his eyes inadvertently crossing until he blinks a few times to correct them. “I...I  had my nipples pierced.”

“You do not.” Eddie rolls his eyes and Maggie wants to ring his neck in the most motherly and kind way possible. He’s barely even attempting to veil their relationship.

“ Used to, SpaghEds.” He cackles, grimacing at the pressure he still probably feels in his side. “College ‘s fun time, my guy. Got dared teh so I wen’ and got my nip-nops st’bbed with a needle.” 

“Well that is new information.” Went considers. “Anything else?”

“Went you’re being a jackass.” Maggie declares and he puts his hands up in self defense. 

“Alright, alright.” He sits himself near his son. “So no secret boyfriends, huh?” Eddie’s eyes go wide and Maggie can see the color drained from his complexion. 

“ Went! ” She scolds. She had told him not to do something so blunt like this at the beach and here he was being a giant fuckhead. 

“No.” Richie grunts, seeming to sober up a margin with that question. 

Maggie shoots Went a menacing scowl and that seems to set him a bit straighter as he plainly displays an expression of shame upon his features, his jaw clamping shut, halting further interrogation upon their mentally compromised son. Rather than taking advantage of him, the three elect to simply continue to pick a bit of fun at Richie’s drug addled state, succumbing to side stitching laughter as he babbles mindlessly about random things he despises such as the word “delectable,” constantly asking whether or not they had breakfast this week since it was the “most important meal of the day,” and his curious desire to compare potential flavor differences in various brands of Himalayan salt lamps. 

However, after an hour or so passes, it is obvious that the drugs are wearing thin in his system and he’s finally starting to feel an increase in the pressure and pain where they opened him up. There’s a sharp crease in his brows and Maggie can see sweat starting to form at his brow. They take the liberty of pressing the nurse call button a few times but when no one arrives, perhaps the result of a dysfunctional button, Went, as an apology for his earlier antics, elects to go on a hunt to find someone that could administer something for their son. 

While waiting for Went to return with a nurse, Richie turns to Maggie, face looking progressively more ashen, jolting her heart as no mother wants to see their child in any amount of pain no matter how old they are. “Mom? Do you think you can get me something to drink? I feel like I swallowed sand.” His voice is strained, although still a bit thick and sloppy as it rolls from his lips.

“I can get it, Rich.” Eddie offers. 

Richie’s eyes start to glisten, the pain and the lingering effects of the medication obviously surging his already intense emotions to the levels of a monstrous tsunami. “Please don’t go.” He murmurs pitifully, taking Eddie’s hand in his.

“I’d be glad to.” Maggie insists. “Do you want water or ice chips?”

“Chips.” He answers wearily.

“Anything for you Eds?”

“Uh, if you can get me a juice or something, that would be nice.” 

“Got it.” She gets up, slipping out the door, and makes her way toward the vending and ice machine near the waiting area. 

She scans the area for any sign of Went and sees him talking to one of the nurses down the hall. She gives him a quick wave and he shoots her a thumbs up, finishes whatever request he had pertaining to Richie’s pain management, and makes his way over to her.

“They’re going to talk to him about giving him a less strong, extended release pain relief as opposed to somethin as strong as they had him on earlier but only  after she finishes with another patient who was yapping about her stupid gallblader removal.”

“Have some sympathy, asshole.” She scolds, filling a cup with crushed ice.

“I have a heart condition.” His hand flutters to his chest, mocking offense.

“Heartless bastard syndrome?” She taunts, allowing him to steal a quick kiss from her. 

“Funny.” He pokes her in the collarbone and sarcastically tells her, “You should be writing for Richie’s set.”

“Hush and give me a dollar to buy Eddie something from the vending machine.”

“I want something too.” He tells her childishly.

“Then get something, asswipe.”

“This is a complete 180 from the beach.” Went grumbles, unable to contain his devilish grin as he settles on a Vitamin Water to split with her and an Ocean Breeze for Eddie. 

“We can continue our day when our son isn’t dehydrated and recovering from surgery in the hospital.” She says. “Now let’s get back.”

He wraps his arm around her, wary as to not jostle the hand clutching the cup of Richie’s ice bits. They reach the room and they’re immediately on high alert when they hear their son crying but it is not a pained cry, but instead one induced by emotions of anguish and distress. She wants to run in and hold him but she can hear that Eddie has hold of the situation.

“...fine Rich.” He tells her son softly. “It’s not a big deal.”

“But it is.” Richie hiccups. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“No, you’re not. You’re sick right now and you’re getting worked up about this.”

“No. My dad asked that question,” Maggie gives Went a look and he looks entirely ashamed now, opening his mouth to mend things, perhaps to tell her that he’ll talk to their son but she shakes her head intently, not allowing him to say a thing, lest they draw attention to the couple in the room and cause them to halt their conversation. “and I just… I said no so easily.” A shuddering breath. “Like it was so easy to pretend I don’t love you.”

“Richie, I know you love me.” Eddie laughs genuinely. “Quite frankly, you’re not very good at hiding it in my opinion even if we’ve managed to keep it a secret this long.” 

“I know that but you shouldn’t… you shouldn’t be a dirty little secret .” She remembers that night in the Cleveland hotel where he told her everything— how the clown taunted him about his “dirty little secret.” It still haunts him. That much is clear. “You should be something I’m proud to love because I am, but I’m a coward and I—”

“You are the farthest thing from a coward, Richie.”

“Steve and I broke up because he thought I was ashamed to love him.” Richie admits softly. “I just… I don’t want you to think I’m ashamed to love you and that’s why I don’t want anyone to know about us. I’m not ashamed. You’re everything that makes me proud of myself.”

“I don’t think that Richie.” He reassures. “I know you need time and I would love you in secrecy till the end of time if it made it easier for you.”

Maggie looks at Went. He nods. They’re sick of pretending but if Eddie is willing to hide for the sake of their son, they can play dumb for the sake of him too. 

“It won’t be forever.” Richie says barely loud enough for them to hear.

“That’s okay. Right now, you’re doing a lot and so am I. This is our only thing that can maybe keep us relatively sane and happy because you do. You make me so goddamned happy, Rich.” Richie sniffs a bit and Eddie makes a shushing sound. “We’ve been through a ton and right now is our time to have peace. I’m not ready to be Richie Tozier, the famed actor and comedian’s boyfriend. I just want to be yours and only yours right now, and if that means lying a little longer, so be it. I like this time being just ours and I love that I get to love you no matter the circumstances.”

xXx       

August 2018

There is no desire for them to make it known that they’re aware in the slightest of their relationship anymore. If anything, Maggie and Went have gone out of their way to avert their eyes and to ensure that they are never at risk for walking in on things that are supposed to be secretive; however living with Richie and Eddie meant always hearing and seeing things Maggie knew she and her husband were not supposed to. 

For some reason, one that was entirely beyond her, the duo seemed to still think they were some clever pair of sleuths that expertly covered their tracks of affection with remarkable precision despite their near comical inability to veil their affection for one another in the slightest or to keep their more intimate conversations at a lower volume and ensure that no one could hear the words of adoration that would easily expose them to someone that got even a breath of the conversation.

Truly, if Richie and Eddie were younger and if Maggie was like one of the heinous mothers on Dance Moms that capitalized on their childrens’ fame, she could easily have used their idiocy and lack of discretion to allow a member of paparazzi to catch wind of their ongoing romance and she and Went would be ridiculously well off— even though they were more than okay now what with their substantial savings and of course the fact that they were living in their famous son’s guest house and not making house payments anymore. 

Maggie Tozier, however, had morals and valued her son’s happiness and would never commit such a cruel act upon her child for his secrets— even if they weren’t nearly as secretive as his inattentive mind liked to believe— were his to keep and to announce when he was ready. She had absolutely no desire to interfere upon that even though at times, Maggie sincerely questioned whether or not Richie and Eddie were even trying to keep their relationship underwraps, because sometimes it felt like they were really trying to make it clearer than they did on a regular basis that there was something romantic brewing between them.

This was most clearly demonstrated when Eddie entered the kitchen, home from a day of classes, barely able to contain his shoulder quaking laughter as he waved a magazine over his head. 

“Hiya Eds.” Maggie greets. “You alright, there?” She chuckles a bit. Eddie’s laugh, something that had been strained for a while after they’d reunited with one another in 2016 has become increasingly more authentic as of late and the sound is enough to infect her with his giddiness.

“What’s that, Eds?” Richie questioned, brows furrowed as he sat himself next to his father.

Eddie, the shit eating grin glowing his face in true mischief, begins to read the front page to them, “Richie Tozier: Gay for Attention?” 

“Well everything Richie has ever done has been for attention so what do they mean by that?” Went inquires in a serious tone. Maggie smacks his arm at that.

“Hang on.” Eddie snorts, flipping to the page that goes further into detail with this utterly ludicrous headline. “After removing himself from the spotlight and going into hiding following a bombed show due to a reported family emergency among other mental health issues in 2016, Emmy nominated Richie Tozier,” Eddie’s smile widens (if that was possible) at that title that has been recently bestowed upon her son, “broke his extended silence with the announcement that he was a member of the LGBTQ+ community. Tozier, prior to such announcement had never once given anyone any reason to believe that he was gay and after an entire year following this announcement, Tozier has yet to enter the dating scene which would serve as confirmation that he is indeed attracted to the same sex.”

“Wait, so because I’m not dating anyone, they don’t believe I’ve proved myself as gay?” Richie scoffs. 

“That’s absurd!” Maggie snaps, eyes narrowing at the magazine in Eddie’s hands, as if willing it to spontaneously combust in his hands (without hurting him of course). “If a self-proclaimed heterosexual isn’t dating some of the opposite sex does that mean they’re gay, bi, or ace until proven straight?”

“Oh it gets better, Dickolas.” Eddie snickers. He clears his throat and continues. “It is believed that Richard Tozier, as an attempt to salvage his spiraling career, elected to rebrand himself with this fabricated sexual orientation as an attempt to stay relevant in an era where being part of such a community oftentimes catches the attention of younger audiences and enhances the likelihood of preserving one’s fame for an extended period of time.”

“Ah, they caught me.” Richie shakes his head, lips twisted into a grin that matches the one on Eddie’s bright face. “I told everyone I was straight just so that Gen Z would think I was cool enough to keep around.”

“Wasn’t it Gen Z that made those memes of your big ass forehead?” Went asks.

“Yeah.” Richie grumbles halfheartedly. “But I did get my big ass forehead from you.” 

“More forehead to kiss.” Eddie says the words on what is very obviously instinct—as if such tender words were something he told Richie as reassurance anytime her son has fallen victim to his own physical insecurities which while that did not happen near as frequently as it used to, was still a sadly recurring incident. Eddie’s face doesn’t even change expression as he does not even realize what he’s said in front of her and Went. 

Richie doesn’t really seem to bat an eye either, rather snickering at the comment instead. 

Interesting.

Maybe they are no longer hiding behind closed doors and are testing the waters around them. Or maybe they are aware that they already know and just don’t care anymore. 

“What’s even funnier is they go on to say that they speculate that you might be dating Beverly Marsh since you’ve been wearing her designs at red carpets and shit.” 

“They do know that Bev is engaged to fucking Ben, right?” Richie asks, befuddled. “That was all over the magazines when that shit happened.”

“Oh they address that briefly, but they seem to believe that as their engagement itself is supposed to help in covering up your apparent heterosexuality and they are just so focused on the fact that you two are dating and they included that one picture of you guys where she’s holding your face from that one red carpet shit you were at last month and went on to discuss your obvious chemistry with her.” He flips the page to reveal it and Maggie smiles. 

She’s seen the image before and she had, in true mom fashion, cut it from the first magazine that featured the image and kept it as a keepsake for herself. She’d needed a recent image of her son and her (essentially) adopted daughter and that one had been absolutely perfect as it quite perfectly captured their goofy relationship quite well and it was also nice that they both looked rather dashing in the image as well. Bev dressing Richie for all his recent events was a complete godsend since she was the only designer that knew how to dress his gumby-esque body in a way that flattered him and made him feel good about himself at all angles. 

“Richie having chemistry with Bev?!” Went gapes. “Now that you mention it, I’ve really seen that in them. Just seeing them together,” a dreamy sigh, “it’s almost like he’s known her nearly thirty years.”

“What complete horseshit.” Maggie guffaws, holding her hand out as to take the magazine from Eddie to skim the article herself and to of course flip through some other celebrity trash. This type of shit, being stupid gossip, is an obvious guilty pleasure of hers. 

“I can’t believe you’re straight, Richie.” Eddie deadpans, his tone serious. “I mean I always suspected it, but wow, this is really news to me!” Eddie leans up against the kitchen island, arms crossed over his t-shirt and a devilish smirk warming his face, still faintly freckled from a California summer in spite of his liberal application of sunscreen. “I just hope you know this doesn’t change anything and that I support you, Dickard.”

“I know damn well you wouldn’t support me being straight and you of all people know how fucking gay my ass is.” Richie hisses back, the venom in his voice diminished by the teasing glint in his blue eyes. 

Maggie glances at Went, her puzzled expression reflected in his own. That… that was quite revealing and completely unrestricted in such exposition. 

She tests the waters with that. “Oh and why’s that, Richie?” 

Awareness clouds his face and color leaves his cheeks. “Oh just that Eddie is a fucking bitch and would be pissed if I decided to flip-flop around with my sexuality.”

So, no. They are not privy to the fact that Maggie and Went, among many others, are fully aware of their relationship; nor do they realize that they are completely exposing themselves with their constant, uninhibited banter. They’re not testing any waters right now, trying to, in their mind, reel Maggie and Went into the idea that they’re dating (again). To them, they are two sly foxes, sneaking under the noses of all their friends and family, hiding away their romance when in reality they’re two bumbling idiots that are more transparent than pure quartz. 

“ I’m the asshole? You’re the one pretending to be gay.” Eddie sneers. “But seriously asshole, I would totally encourage any exploration if you thought you needed to.” His tone is a bit more sincere at that, but he looks at Richie with an inquisitive expression. 

“I’m gay as fuck.” Richie confirms. 

“Yeah, I figured as much.” Eddie snorts, cheeks pinkening a bit. 

“Wow, congratulations Richie.” Went claps. “You’re officially the last to know.”

“No, that would be People magazine.” Richie replies, picking himself up. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Please do.” Eddie grumps back, padding over to the cabinet and grabbing his trusty bag of veggie chips because while they’re not a healthy substitute in the slightest, they serve as a comfort of reassurance simply due to the word “veggie” being in the title, that he is not poisoning his body the way his anxiety wants to convince him that he is. “I have to submit my childhood diseases lab report”

Once the two have removed themselves from the room to supposedly shower or submit the same lab report that Eddie submitted yesterday and the week before, and once she’s certain they’re out of earshot since Maggie actually is more inclined to cover her tracks, she turns to her husband. 

“Okay, that was… all… very…”

“Painfully obvious confirmations that they’re dating even though we already know they are but even if we didn’t know that would kind of solidify any ideas that they were because if we didn’t know we probably would suspect it anyway since we’re just nosy assholes but also because—and mainly because they’re god awful at subtly in all regards?” He spitfires back.

“Yeah.” Maggie nods once. “They are… the biggest morons ever.” She laughs in spite of herself. “They actually think they’re fooling all of us.”

“They really think they’re Sherlock and Watson, don’t they?” 

“Went, Sherlock and Watson solved mysteries. They didn’t cause them.” She thinks for a second. “Or at least attempt to cause them.”

“Well, weren’t they in love too?”

She considers that, pursing her lips together thoughtfully. “I mean… yeah.”

xXx

September 2018

Secrets are never forever. The unknown has always been designed to be uncovered. Nothing is ever really meant to remain hidden. Curiosity, one of the first traits in all infants, breeds into a motivation to unveil the unknown, no matter how dark it may be. Secrets may reveal themselves by the lips of an inquisitive outsider, investigating where they’re not meant to be. Other times, more often that not, as secret keeping goes against the innateness in not only gaining knowledge but sharing knowledge across the human race, the original keeper of the secret, no longer capable of containing the unknown, will open the closet door and allow their skeletons to topple out, baring their secrets to all. 

Or, in other words, everything always comes out eventually.

The Tozier’s history can attest to that. Richie coming out of the closet (twice), like a skeleton that’d been trapped for too long. Richie telling Maggie the haunting truth about Derry even if the details were haunting not only for her to hear but for him to envision enough to provide the gory details. And most recently, when making his acceptance speech for Lead Actor in Comedy Series at the Emmys, Richie announced that he did indeed have a boyfriend and said boyfriend was Eddie Kaspbrak.  

Maggie does not believe that this majorly public revelation was a planned event in the slightest seeing as Richie, who had been shocked to have received not only a Lead Actor nomination but two other nominations for Barry , believed there was no chance in hell that he would win even one of those categories and had not bothered to prepare a speech. He was more focused on practicing his “loser face,” which according to Eddie was not to be confused with his “Loser face” which was apparently his chronically clueless expression.  

Maggie, Went, Eddie, and Steve had all warned him repeatedly that he needed to at least have an idea of what he wanted to say should he actually win; which to them was not some outlandish idea as it was for Richie. It wasn’t that he wasn’t proud of the show and thought it was undeserving of an award given the hard effort put forth by him and the cast and crew, but that he was incapable of being proud of himself. However, where he couldn’t be there for his own sake, they were all more than happy to be. 

They and of course all of the Losers, were all confident about Richie or the entire show winning at least one of their categories seeing as they could say, even in an objective manner, that Richie possessed remarkable, raw talent and Barry was something that truly captured his range and capabilities as an entertainer in nearly all facets of the creative process: acting, writing, directing, and producing. 

And apparently the members of NATAS agreed with this as Michael Douglas had announced that Richie had won. The minute the older actor uttered her son’s first name, the living room had erupted into deafening cheers from from Maggie, Went, Steve, and Eric who had all been huddled around the television to watch the award show together as Richie had elected to take Eddie as his plus-one which Maggie and Went pretended to not question in the slightest as it was plausible that a Richie, in a merely platonic relationship with Eddie (something that would only occur in some warped alternate universe), would still select to take him, as Eddie had never been to any prestigious award show before. 

It was quite evident, as the camera had panned to her son, clad in a well-tailored suit (fitted by none other than Beverly Marsh of course) that Richie did not anticipate winning in the slightest and his constant lamenting was not simply a ploy for compliment fishing. His eyes went wide and his mouth stretched into a flat line as shock and panic warped his previous expression of relaxation as a person merely nominated for an award and not tasked with the responsibility of winning said award and having to give any type of speech. 

Frankly he looked nauseated by the idea of having to clomber up there but seemed to lighten a bit as Alec patted him on the back and Eddie Kaspbrak, clearly teary eyed and glowing with unbridled excitement, yanked him into a bone crushing hug (which fortunately did not wrinkle the expensive fabric of his suit) and to the trained eye of an obscenely nosy parent (who was only nosy because she was connected to her son in a way even she did not fully understand), Maggie noticed the way his eyes flitted briefly to her son’s lips but he had elected to not give him the typical, congratulatory kiss that was custom for winners that attended award shows with their significant other.

Richie seemed to relax a bit. He blinked a few times, mouthing “wow” to himself before stiffly walking down the aisle and toward the stage, stopping only once to give a quick hug to a friend and then made his way up the steps in two long legged steps. 

He graciously accepted the intricately designed trophy, shaking hands with Douglas, his expression becoming slightly more terrified and then turned to the microphone looking entirely unprepared.

“I feel like this’ll be a PR nightmare.” Eric muttered to Steve.

A stuttering laugh escaped Richie’s lips. “Uh, I did not think this was gonna happen. Um,” He looks around anxiously, “Um, okay,”

“I told him to prepare something.” Steve groaned, burying his face into his hands. 

“So, I uh, took a few classes in New York and of course at Second City L.A.” a few scattered applauses and hoots from fellow stars that were probably also familiar with the location, “Nothing.” He jokes, clutching the trophy tighter to his chest and gesturing dramatically with his free hand,  “I was taught there that um, you should always make other people look good and uh, so what I did was, I hired a bunch of really great actors that made me look really good,”

“Fucking jackass can’t just accept an award without the self deprecation!” Went chortles, shaking his head. 

“I’m sure his therapist is already taking notes.” Maggie says.

“So, I share this with the cast. Henry Winkler, um,”

“Take a shot everytime he says ‘um.’” Went teases. Maggie jabs him not only because it’s insulting to their nervous wreck of a son but because such a drinking game would undoubtedly end each of their lives within minutes. 

“Stephen Root, um Sarah Goldberg, um Anthony Carrigan, uh, just Paula Newsome… I-I-I,” he stammers, sounding uncannily similar to a younger William Denbrough, “ All of you, thank so so much and thank you Alec Berg, Steve Covall,” Steve whistles, “My amazing parents,” Went roars loudly, “HBO,  and um, of course, my”

“He’s not,” Maggie whispers.

“… my boyfriend Eddie,” he gestures to the award, worrying at his bottom lip and raising the award as if actively seeking the approval of someone who loves everything about him and releases a squeaking sound which while comical, is definitely a sound that reflects his own anxiety in regards to what he’s just said and then bids a farewell with a small wave and an “alright,” as the room erupts into laughter and claps. 

“Well, that’s one way to tell millions of people that you’re dating the random guy you brought as your plus one.” Went remarks.

“He really can’t do anything on a small scale and build up from there, can he?” Eric snorts.

xXx

Eric and Steve leave just before the end of the show, wanting to avoid late night traffic and of course bidding Went and Maggie a good luck for when it came to dealing with their favorite (and publicly official) lovestruck morons. They’d chuckled at that, but admittedly, Maggie knew that it would be a rather interesting situation to unravel.

It’s a few hours until Richie and Eddie come back home, having to stay for the remainder of the show and to of course get some press and pictures in. Maggie and Went each text Richie a simple “congratulations” and a “we’re so proud of you” and “we knew you could do it” type of message that doesn’t once reference what Richie must believe to be his revelation to his parents that he and his long term roommate, not-so-former high school sweetheart are actively dating. That’s something to be discussed in person. 

For a moment Maggie isn’t sure what she should say as the door squeaks open to reveal Richie, holding his trophy and holding a bag of In-N-Out fries, but as they stand there looking sheepish and uncertain, she just smiles at them and knows this doesn’t have to be awkward for them. It’s funny if anything for them to have thought that their love wasn’t loud enough to draw the attention of anyone with a mild awareness of romance or for a pair of probing parents to catch on to. It’s also a beautiful thing and something they both deserve.

“Well, we saw the ceremony and we are so, so proud of you.” She tells Richie who seems to hold himself stiffly, cheeks bleeding red.

“Thanks. I really didn’t expect that.”

“Just like you didn’t expect to announce your relationship on national television?” Went titters with a grin.

Richie lightens a bit, smiling abashedly. “Yeah, that too.”

“About fucking time!” Went hollers, pulling the two into a hug. 

“ I definitely didn’t expect him to do that.” Eddie chuckles.

“So you’re both together and you have been for a while now, huh?” Maggie presses.

“Uh, yeah.” Richie confesses.

“We just wanted to keep it to ourselves and we definitely could have told you guys but I guess it was the premise of the thing.” Eddie attempts.

Went snorts. “We could tell.”

“Wait, you could ?” Richie blanches and Eddie’s brows fly up, dumbstruck. 

Maggie glances at Went. Ah, fuck it. They had their time to be underwraps and they played it up for them. They should know that nothing gets past her or Went. “We’ve known since Steve’s wedding when Eric caught you two playing tonsil hockey at the altar.”

“I told you that was a bad idea.” Eddie scolds. 

“You’ve known since then ?!” Richie jolts. “But why didn’t you say anything?”

Maggie smiles at him. “You wanted to keep it a secret for a reason and we respected that. So we pretended not to know.”

“You guys deserved something that was just yours and us letting you know that we knew would take that away.” Went adds. “But I won’t lie, it was hard to pretend like we didn’t know without seeming like a pair of bumbling idiots since you two were so starkly obvious.”

“I thought we were pretty subtle.” Richie says to Eddie to which Eddie nods in agreement. 

“You two were about as subtle as you were as kids.” Went snickers.

Eddie and Richie look to one another, uncertainty teasing their features.

“Not at all.” Maggie clarifies.