"wanna hear something funny?" richie chuckled to himself, staring down at the floor of the waiting room. stanley looked up at him.
for whatever reason, the emergency room waiting area was extremely full, and as they weren't really in the mood to stand (and they were each also a little bit drunk, and didn't intend on medical professionals watching them fall over), the group had split up while they waited for beverly.
they'd been there a long fucking time.
richie and stanley had ended up together once again, sitting on one side of the room while the rest sat across the room. stanley had succumbed to the irregular awkwardness between the two of them.
not like this.
i mean, what had richie expected stanley to think?
not the point.
"what?" stanley asked.
"greta drunk texted me the other day. she thinks she can change me," richie snorted, "like, even if i did like girls, i wouldn't be into her, jesus." richie looked to stanley and kept laughing, hissing through his teeth.
"what the fuck?" stanley replied incredulously, scratching at the side of his neck. richie tapped his feet on the ground nervously. the noise went unheard under the sound of chatter. richie thought he could just barely hear the low hum of mike's voice.
"yeah, i... she's gotta be batshit insane or something," richie started fidgeting. he looked down a couple people to his right, and one of them was full-on sobbing.
stanley followed his line of sight to the girl crying. he wondered what had happened.
"jesus, calm the fuck down, it's not like he's dying." the person directly next to her said, trying to comfort her. she kept crying, apparently inconsolable as the other person sighed. "it's a broken bone, he doesn't have aids," the person went on.
stanley noticed that richie stared back down at the ground.
"how are you feeling, you know, with betty and stuff?" richie asked, kicking stanley's foot with the side of his. richie's shoes were incredibly scuffed, and next to stanley's pristine shoes, they looked a little funny.
stanley was far too drunk and hungover at the same time for this.
"it's fine. i don't really care all that much, to be honest." stanley wanted to shuffle closer to richie, but the arm rest stopped him. probably for the better.
"really?"
"yeah." stanley thought about it. "i was drunk when we started dating. plus, i didn't even really ask her to be my girlfriend." at this, richie looked up.
"wow. that's... kinda funny."
"yeah."
"well, love lives are stupid anyway. so..." richie trailed off.
stanley gazed at richie, who was looking at a poster on the wall explaining when to get a pap smear test. while it wasn't knowledge that richie needed, he decided he'd rather stare at every letter on that poster rather than figure out what the expression on stanley's face was.
"are they?" stan asked.
"what?"
"where are the oth--oh" beverly hobbled in on crutches, standing in front of richie and stanley as the other four ran over to beverly.
"oh shit, so it's broken?" mike asked, beverly shifting a little.
"well, yeah, it's fucked, uh so in like 6 weeks i'll be fine. and i don't think they noticed that, um... you know." beverly mouthed 'drunk' and started making her way to the door. the others ran to help her, and the seven of them made it outside.
"so... wh-what do we do now?" bill snickered as he spoke. the seven walked in silence for a bit, each one slugging along the sidewalk. ben yawned to fill the silence after bill's query, and it passed on, the yawn contagious.
"go back to bev's, right? that's where we're walking to?" mike finally answered the question with his own question. beverly stopped moving, laughing
"my house is in the opposite direction, you fucking idiots," beverly laughed wildly, clearly drowsy.
"let's just go to mine," richie kept walking, "it's this way."
and so it was that six half-drunk half-hungover losers and one perfectly sober ben hanscom walked into richie's house and took up the floor of his bedroom. richie, in his tired state, somehow managed to get sleeping bags for them and mumble roughly to his mother what they were doing. his mother knew he was drunk, richie could tell, but he decided to worry about that in the morning.
instead, he worried about where he was currently, right now, of which was brushing his teeth next to stanley, just the two of them.
"um, it doesn't have to be weird, right?" richie said, his first acknowledgement of what might have happened, had beverly not hit the stairs at top speed. stanley looked at him blankly for a moment before realizing.
good, he wasn't even thinking about it. great job bringing it up.
"no, na' a' all" stanley replied through a mouthful of toothpaste and spit. richie nodded lightly and put the toothbrush in his mouth.
the two brushed their teeth in silence for a little bit, before richie looked over and saw stanley snickering.
"wha' are yu' 'aughing abou'?" richie asked, and it made stanley laugh so hard he had to lean over the sink to keep from spewing toothpaste everywhere. richie couldn't help from laughing as well, and the two broke into giggles, trying to keep the spit from hitting anywhere but the sink.
finally, with the tap running, both of them rinsed their mouths properly through their laughter.
"what the fuck are you laughing about?" richie said, drying the inner corners of his lips. stanley was doubled over, almost crying.
"i," he tried to get out through bursts of laughter, "have no fucking idea," he said, causing richie to laugh a little as well. okay, so maybe they were still a little drunk.
they stumbled back into richie's bedroom, and richie went straight for his bed.
stanley stood, a little unsure. there was a sleeping bag next to the bed with his metaphorical name on it, everyone else already fast asleep (save for richie, and stanley was pretty sure ben was also still awake).
he wandered over to it, and as he lied down on the ground, richie rolled around and reached his hand out off the bed. drowsy and unthinking, stanley grabbed it and laced it with his own.
"cool," richie mumble-whispered.
