Nerdy Prudes Must Laugh

You Would Know It

The Spankoffski house's finished basement is cozy. It's a little bigger than Pete's bedroom, with a couch and a few beanbags, a table for board games, an old TV mounted on the wall, a mini-fridge for drinks. It's Pete's den more than Ted's, thank god: Steph doesn't think there's enough disinfectant in all of Hatchetfield to fully neutralise Pete's walking-biohazard older brother. The walls are lined with posters, a steady compromise between faded pin-ups and nerd shit. Steph reclines on the beanbag and smiles.

Really, there's no better place for an all-out geek fight to commence.

For the past few minutes, Richie and Pete have been locked in an intense debate over the correct romance option in a recently released video game. Having not played it, Steph can't weigh in, but it's entertaining to watch Pete huff and gesture as he explains his point, only for Richie to give a typical anime-protagonist tch and deliver a scathing rebuttal. Every now and then Ruth opens her mouth and Steph knows she has an absolutely batshit take on this argument, but she can't bring herself to interrupt the boys as they sling facts and logic back and forth.

'It's fine if you want to be wrong,' Pete says, pushing his glasses up, 'But if you really think Aslar has a better plotline than Kaela, you're actually - like, genuinely out of your mind. Her arc is a fucking masterpiece! Rebelling against her programming, choosing found family over her creators! What does he have that she doesn't?'

'A personality, Pete.' Richie rolls his eyes, throwing one arm over the back of the couch casually. It makes Pete seethe. 'Aslar's entire story is about him realising he doesn't need to prove himself to anyone, and Kaela's just a robot with daddy issues. She's not complex, she's just hot. You're the one who can't see the forest for the tits.'

In his throat, Pete makes a strained growling noise, hands bunching into fists at his side. Richie looks up at him with a raised eyebrow and a smug smirk. Worry knots Steph's stomach: is this normal for them, or is a real, actual fight about to happen? She looks over at Ruth. The other girl is curled up on another beanbag, grinning at the unfolding chaos but not taking much notice otherwise. Seeing her nonchalance, Steph relaxes a little. This must be an everyday occurrence - Pete and Richie are close friends; they probably have little spats all the time.

'You take that back.'

Richie snorts at Pete's demand. 'Or what?'

As soon as the words leave his mouth, his eyes go wide and Pete lunges for him. Steph gasps. The two boys struggle for a moment, cursing, before Richie makes a strangled yelping sound and finds himself pinned. He only manages a few pitiful no-no-no's before all ten of Pete's fingers attack his sides and he has to cover his mouth to stifle a big, snickering laugh. Steph has to blink a few times to make sure she's seeing the situation clearly. The nerd fight has turned into a tickle fight, and Pete is clearly winning.

On the other beanbag, Ruth looks up and snorts, and goes back to browsing amateur erotica on her phone. The casualness of it all makes Steph freeze, unsure if she's meant to look or look away. She's gotten close to Pete's friends, but she still feels like an outsider in the group sometimes. It's like she's invading some sort of personal, private moment; a ritual she isn't permitted to participate in. Pete's her boyfriend, sure, but she's still struck by the awkward feeling of being the only single person at a party.

The dam breaks and Richie's laughter pours out in barking gasps. He has a loud laugh, punctuated by high-pitched cackles when Pete's bony fingers knead his hips. Looming over him, Pete chuckles, goosing up and down his sides and relishing in the squirms it elicits. He's good at tickling, way too good for this not to be a regular thing. The precision with which he strikes each weak spot is masterful.