"even my own dad thinks i should move out, like, jesus." stanley said, picking at a piece of pizza. bill, sitting on one side of him, widened his eyes in disbelief. "i know, i mean, it must be fucking bad, right?" stanley laughed, his sole laugh leaving an awkward air in the room.
they were all sitting around bill's kitchen, and as stanley took another sip from his drink it occurred to him that maybe he was tipsy. he couldn't see himself revealing this to his friends any other way. this made stanley laugh to himself, and the other six exchanged worried looks.
"so are you looking at places?" beverly asked, stealing a second slice of pepperoni. stanley gazed down at his own slice of pizza, barely touched. he watched as beverly took a heaping bite and he slowly took a small bite himself.
"well, i have to get a job first. i've applied to some places, and i have two interviews coming up, so hopefully that goes well." stanley was now drumming his fingers. richie reached a hand out and placed it, comfortingly on stanley's thigh. stanley glanced at him gratefully.
it had been god knows how many months, and stanley still couldn't get over the warm feeling he found whenever richie touched him.
"working man, stanley uris," richie commented, and ben and bill laughed softly.
"i duh-d-duh-don't even feel d-druh-drunk, i'm just t-tuh-tired," bill said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes. mike shoved at him, and he awoke with a start, "oh, it's on-n h-ha-a-anoln!" the two got up and started mock fighting, the rest of the losers taking very little notice.
"anyway... forget i said all of that. can someone play music?" stanley said, taking another hearty sip of his drink. ben waited until stanley glanced at him to take a bite of his pizza. guiltily, stanley took his second bite. richie squeezed his thigh gently. stanley went a little pink.
beverly got her phone out eagerly.
-
"i love you," stanley had promised himself, since betty, he wouldn't be the kind of guy to make out with someone in the corner at a party. but these were his best friends, and richie just looked so cute, so stanley settled for repeating how much he loved him.
"i've heard! i love you too," richie replied, sitting in a camping chair next to stanley. the seven had moved outside, and were crowded around a gas firepit, watching the flames flicker.
a blanket was spread across richie and stanley's chairs, which sat quite close. beverly had on mike's jacket, and mike was insisting he wasn't that cold, even when bill offered him a bit of his blanket, mike refused it. there had been a moment of consideration, though. ben was wearing a thick coat, as was eddie, as they sat by the fire.
"do we have s'mores stuff? i think i'd kill myself to have some s'mores right now." richie said, beverly sitting up excitedly. she disappeared into bill's house, drink in her hand as she wobbled.
"oh, my dear friend, i came prepared," beverly exited the house once more, a plastic bag in her hand. out of the bag stuck four sticks, presumably for roasting marshmallows. she held the sticks out, and richie, bill, mike, and ben each took one.
she brought out next marshmallows, passing it to mike, who opened the bag. she put a box of chocolate and graham crackers on the table beside her and let the boys get to work. "i get dibs on whoever makes the best one, because i brought the stuff," she said, the four nodding. suddenly, it was a competition.
richie speared his marshmallow, vaguely aware of stanley watching him out of the corner of his eye. he wasn't watching the stick, instead just staring at richie's face. his eyelashes, his hair, his eyebrows, his lips, stanley couldn't look away.
richie put the marshmallow over the fire, rotating it slowly. he turned his head to stanley, "hi."
"hi. you're pretty." stanley said, smiling giddily. like a little kid, almost. it was if he couldn't help his teeth poking out from the width of his smile.
"you're drunk. but you're pretty too," richie replied, laughing as he leaned forward to kiss stanley. it was all so natural, now. it felt so nice, just to love him. stanley nodded simply.
"richie! fire on deck!" mike suddenly shouted, richie turning his head back to the fire. he lifted the marshmallow out, watching it light up with a flame of its own.
"oh shit!" he blew at it in short gasps, before it went out, leaving a charcoal black exterior on the marshmallow. he motioned to beverly for a graham cracker, as it was also melting off the stick. she handed him a graham cracker with chocolate, followed by a second cracker. he sandwiched it just in time, and put the stick back in the fire to let the excess burn off.
"well, i don't particularly want that one," beverly said, richie shaking his head as he placed it on a plate.
"your loss, madam. crunchy exterior, gooey interior, i'm creaming my jeans just thinking about it," richie replied, bill reaching over to punch richie in the shoulder, a non-verbal beep-beep.
"you're not wearing jeans," stanley mumbled into his side, richie reaching an arm around him.
"i know." richie took a bite of his s'more, hissing at how hot the marshmallow still was he held it out to stanley, "want a bite?"
stanley shook his head. he took another sip of his drink, this sip rather large, and richie removed it from stanley's cup holder to richie's own. he figured stanley had had enough for the night.
"you're all my bestest friends. i loo-oo-oo-oove you guys," stanley said drunkenly, a couple of them laughing at stanley's intoxicated state. he huffed, "i'm serious, assholes. i would die for all of you." he still stumbled a bit over his words, but the tone was meaner. stanley yawned.
richie kissed his head softly, and stanley placed it on richie's shoulder. he gripped onto the bicep of richie's arm. he felt good here. he felt about as good as he had in a long time.
he kissed richie's arm. richie laughed quietly.
ben broke the silence by offering his s'more to beverly, which she took, naturally. bill ate his in one bite, burning his tongue off and yelping.
later, when the seven retired inside to sleep, the garbage bag of discarded cans and bottles tied up in the corner (courtesy of ben and mike, though stanley tried to help), they each found a sleeping bag. stanley ignored his, choosing to try and fit in richie's with him. it was a tight squeeze, and the zipper didn't exactly close, but neither stanley nor richie objected to being right on top of each other.
"goodnight, l-luh-losers," bill said, flicking off the last light before settling into his sleeping bag, which sat comfortably on the couch.
stanley wiggled further into richie's arms, and he felt his chest warm up as richie's hands fell flat on his back. i love him, stanley thought, i love him and he loves me.
neat.
