Work Text:
Mike's basement was lit by an old lamp and a flashlight that had been left on. The rest of the house had shut down for the night hours ago, but Will and Richie were still up. Richie was mikes cousin; he was staying with the Wheelers in Hawkins until summer was over. Will decided to stay over after losing track of time, Mike insisting it was too late for Will to go out and that he could bunk with Richie in the basement like "Old times.".
Richie was supposed to be asleep just like Will but instead he was laying down with his hands under his head, talking nonstop like usual.
"You people go to bed at, like, nine", Richie whispered, "This town is eighty years old"
Will, sitting on the couch with his knees pulled up and sketchbook in hand, didn't even look up.
"It's called having parents."
"Tragic," Richie said. "Couldn't be me."
"You have a mother figure though"
"I choose to ignore that fact."
Will snorted.
Richie rolled onto his side so he could see him better.
"You think I'm funny, Byers?'
"I don't."
"Could've fooled me, you've been laughing this whole time."
Will rolled his eyes, "You talk too much."
"That's because I'm the most interesting person here."
"You've been here three days."
"And you already can't live without me."
Will laughed under his breath.
Richie grinned, pleased with himself, then stretched his arms behind his head.
A minute passed, quiet but not uncomfortable.
Then Richie said, way to casually, "So hypothetically- if I went upstairs and robbed Mrs. Wheeler's kitchen-"
"That's not hypothetical," Will said. "That's exactly what you'd do."
"- would she yell," Richie continued, "or would she just give me that disappointed suburban mom stare?"
"You are unbelievable."
"I've been called worse."
"You say worse," Will shot back.
Richie grinned. "That's my brand, Byers."
Will shook his head, muttering, "you have a dirty mouth."
Richie's eyebrows lifted.
Slow grin.
Confident. Zero shame.
"Yeah?" he said. "But you kissed me like you meant it."
Will froze
Richie didn't look away. Didn't backtrack. Just tossed the Harry Sack in the air and caught it again like he hadn't just detonated a bomb.
"That-" will started, voice betraying him immediately.
Richie titled his head. "What? You gonna say you tripped and your face fell on mine?"
"It was-"
"You grabbed my shirt," Richie cut in, smug. "Very intentional behavior, Byers."
Will's face went red "You were being annoying."
"I'm always being annoying"
"... exactly"
Richie leaned up onto his elbows, closer now, still cocky.
"Yet you still did it."
Will opened his mouth, then shut it.
Because yeah.
He did.
"You talk like you're so sure of yourself," Will muttered.
"I am."
"That's-"
"Charming?" Richie offered.
"Insufferable."
Richie grinned wider. "Same thing."
A quiet second passed.
Then Will said, "You didn't pull away either."
Richie shrugged, completely unfazed. "Why would I?"
That did not help Will’s ability to think.
Richie nudged his sneaker against the couch.
“So,” he said, casual but pointed, “you going to pretend it didn’t happen, or are we just adding it to the list of weird Hawkins experiences?”
Will hesitated.
“…I’m not pretending,” he admitted.
Richie’s expression flickered— not soft, just satisfied. Like he’d won a bet.
“Cool,” he said. “Me neither.”