made up things we'll never really say : stozier

5

stan

stan lets richie try to open the door, and to his surprise it's unlocked. the warm light flooding beverly's apartment settles over them as they make it into the entry, bev's red hair visible at a coffee table nearby.

it shouldn't, because she's studying all sorts of design, but it always surprises stanley with how beautiful beverly's apartment is. as he slips off his shoes, he makes sure to place them among the line of boots, heels, and sneakers in the closet, neatly sorted by type. richie, naturally, kicks his off and leaves them where they end up.

"i'm here! watch the book stack," beverly calls, and stanley minds the books around the corner of the wall, piled up to his knees.

"i brought reinforcements," richie says, already at bev's side, sitting down on the carpet.

stan's admiring a painting on the wall that he suspects is new, labeled 'piccolo spoleto festival', surrounded by a shelf of plants, when beverly turns around to see him.

"stan! oh thank god you came," she says, and he rips his eyes away from the painting. it's hard, because there's always something new to notice in her apartment (like the lamp with fabric draped over it that seems to be calling his name), but he joins the two on the carpet, looking down at the puzzle in front of them.

"well, i couldn't leave the two of you to do it. that'd be awful. are you going to put this up?" stan asks, already memorizing the final product image of the puzzle.

"yeah, i got a frame there," she points to a golden frame sat in the corner, leaned up against the kitchen counter, with nothing in it yet but cardboard.

"i got one!" richie exclaims, fitting a piece in. then he looks closer, taking his glasses off, and sighs, "nevermind. it was an illusion."

stan laughs at him, and picks the piece out of richie's hand, looking for the right spot. he glances back to the box with the image on it, then places it in an empty space in the middle of the unfinished puzzle, "it would go somewhere there."

"super helpful, staniel." richie says, leaning into him.

"it's okay, there's only like twenty pieces left, right?" beverly says, knowing she's looking down at at least a hundred pieces, half turned over, spread out across the table.

stan laughs again, "yeah, twenty sounds about right."

"i'll make coffee." beverly says, and she gets up off the carpet. she has to walk around the plants and bottles filled with pieces of plants littered around the floor, but she gets to her french press.

stanley gets to work on the puzzle, sorting them by area. it makes it easy, because a lot of the pieces are some shade of white, filling up the sky, but he dreads having to put that part together. he's in it now, though, and he can't give up.

"i can't believe you guys enjoy this," richie rolls his eyes and puts his hands out behind him, shifting position so his legs cross over stan's. stan only glances at him at the touch.

"i don't enjoy it, i just think it would look good on my wall." beverly shrugs, from behind the kitchen counter. she scoops coffee grinds as richie peers at her, his glasses back on his face.

"oh! i'm going to change your fridge magnets," richie suddenly says, swinging his legs off of stan and getting up. he walks to the fridge in a way that reminds stan of a deer prancing, and picks at the letter magnets scattered across it.

"jesus," beverly mutters at richie's sudden attention to detail, seeking all the right letters.

"why don't you have multiples? ugh!" richie groans, making do with his lack of multiple vowels.

he manages to spell out "god = rich tzer", and he smiles, proud of himself. beverly rolls his eyes at him and pushes down on the french press.

stan is too focused on puzzling to read what richie's written until later, but assuming it's something vaguely blasphemous, he doesn't really care right now.

honestly, he's not sure why he likes puzzling so much. well, maybe like is a strong term. it's something he's always pulled in by, something that proceeds to take over his life for a few moments, giving him the control to piece together something. maybe he's overanalyzing it, but it feels akin to when richie kisses him. he might not have complete control, but he's utterly entranced in it, and he has to follow it through.

speaking of, richie returns to the carpet, his feet once again stretched out across stanley's lap. stan wonders if beverly is noticing, and confirms it with a quick glance back at her. she looks away, but stan can tell she knows just as much as he does that while richie's always been a little touchy, he seems much too eager to have a point of contact with stan.

"how's it going?" richie asks, lounging on his back.

"i've been doing it for five minutes. don't ask me yet."

"bev already did the edges, so it's really just the easy part now," richie yawns, and as if on cue, beverly arrives with a mug of coffee for richie. stan takes one too, thanking her as she sits on the couch.

"that's just untrue," beverly chimes in, "everyone knows the edges are the easy part."

"he's just being an asshole," stanley says, reaching to swat at richie's head. richie catches stan's arm, grabbing him by the wrist, and tries to swat back at stan's head with his own hand. stan overpowers him and backhands richie across the face.

"ow! what the fuck?!" richie drops stan's hand, who is laughing.

about an hour and a half later, when all the coffee has been drank, and all the fans in beverly's apartment are turned on, stanley has finally moved onto the inane work that is puzzling the white sky. beverly's stretched out along her couch, the curtains by her window flittering against her feet from the wind of the fan. stanley has hardly moved, only to reach other puzzle pieces and to stretch his legs out under the table. richie's lying down next to him, now turned so the tip of his head lies against stan's thigh.

"i'm going fucking insane." stan mumbles, and richie laughs. he laughs like this puzzle is trivial—which stan knows it is, but that doesn't stop him from sighing.

"just take a break," beverly says, staring up at the ceiling like she has plans to decorate it as well.

"i literally cannot. you know this." stan replies.

richie sits up, looking at what stanley has left. "i bet i could do this in like, five minutes."

"try me! try me! literally come here and try puzzling a white fucking sky for five minutes," stanley replies, and the two start bickering.

"no, because i have the best strategy."

"oh what, sort by shape? real creative."

"i'm going to try every single one in one spot until i get the right one."

"there's like seventy pieces, dumbass, you'll never get there."

"ooh, try me, try me!"

"fine. do it!" stan throws his hands up, scooting away from the table. richie looks down at the puzzle again.

"i'll do your mom."

stan wishes he didn't want to smile, but he does. god, richie is so stupid, and god, stanley wants him so badly.

"make one more your mom joke and i will actually tackle you to the ground and kill you." he says, and richie has a stupid grin on his face.

part of stan hopes he does so he can actually tackle richie, but he knows better. beverly is around. he glances at her, and she's furrowing her eyebrows, staring right at him. she shrugs. he breathes through his nose, and shrugs right back at her. looking at richie one more time, he thinks to himself, god, i'm so screwed.