Summer of '93 - Stozier

18

The next morning, Both Stan and Richie woke up to Maggie Toziers voice from outside Richies bedroom.

Richie groaned and opened his eyes, listening to his mother talk.

"Richie?!"

"Yeah?" Richie yelled back, causing Stan to groan and mumble something along the lines of 'shut up' into Richies hair.

"I'm going shopping, do you want anything?" Maggie asked, poking her head into the room, holding on to the half open door. "Oh, hey, Stanley."

Stan waved lazily, his eyes still closed.

"Uh- no, mom. Thanks, anyway." Richie yawned.

"You sure? You want me to pick up a record for you at the record store?" She asked.

"Um.. you don't have to.." Richie replied. He didn't like making his parents spend unnecessary money on him unless it was for something he desperately wanted.

"Nonsense, i'll get you random ones I think you might like, okay?" She smiled.

Richie nodded, his head hurt a little. "Ok, thanks."

"Bye." Maggie waved quickly, closing the door.

"You're so awkward." Stan laughed, he had buried his head into the crook of Richies neck.

"Mm.. shut up." Richie smiled. "My head.." He whined, dragging out the A and throwing an arm over his eyes.

Stan sat up, stretching as he did, and swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

Richie, who was still clinging to his waist, groaned in protest. "Where are you going?"

"I have to get up, dumbass, let me go." Stan chuckled, turning his head a little and looking at Richie, who was laying on the pillow Stan was previously on.

"Hmmm!" Richie groaned again. "Its summer break! You don't have to get up."

Stan huffed, Standing up, almost falling backwards since Richie hadn't let go. "Lemme go!" He pried Richies arms away from his waist and tucked the band shirt he was wearing, one of the many ones Richie owns, into the pair of grey sweatpants that Stan leaves here incase of a 'spontaneous sleepover'.

About ten minutes later,  Richie had finally gotten out of bed at the smell of food and trailed into the kitchen, where Stan was cooking scrambled eggs for both of them and bacon for Richie, since Stan wasn't allowed to eat it.

Richie climbed onto the counter beside the cooker, swinging his legs as he watched Stan scoop some eggs onto a fork. He held his hand under it to make sure it doesn't spill onto the floor and held the fork up to Richies mouth. "Open."

Richie opened his mouth and tried the eggs. He hummed in approval before giggling a little with the smallest tint of pink on his cheeks.

"What?" Stan asked, smiling.

"This looks like the beginning of a cliché romance movie." He giggled again.

Stan paused of a second, taking in the position. Richie on the counter, Stanley standing between his legs and feeding him something he had just cooked while music played faintly from the radio in the background. He blushed a little. "You have a point."

Stan had set the plates of food out on the table and they both sat down.

"My head hurts." Richie whined after a while.

"Aftermath of being drunk, my friend." Stan chuckled.

"You'd know." Richie replied.

"Oh shut up! that was one time!" Stan complained while Richie laughed.

"Why were you drunk that one time, anyway?" Richie asked.

"Patty." Stan replied plainly. "Bitch put alcohol in my drink so she could slip away with some guy." He shrugged.

"Right." Richie mumbled, remembering that Bill had informed him that Stan had broken up with Patty. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to keep the smile off of his face.

Stan pushed his fork around his plate, a faint blush on his face, before he spoke. "So.. um.. do you uh- remember anything? from last night?" He asked, remembering their kiss.

"Umm.." Richie thought for a moment. "I remember.. uh.. I remember Mike threatening to pull a guys arm off for calling me a fag." He shrugged.

"Is that it?" Stan asked.

"Uh.. I remember laughing at god knows what with Bev.. um.. Oh! I remember sitting with you on the porch steps!" He nodded, thinking.

Stan was blushing even more, ducking his face out of view of Richie. "Mhm?"

"I remember you saying something about my fabulous nails and uhhh.. and then I remember.. falling on the stairs, but thats only because I have a fuckin' bruise on my stomach from it." Richie finished, shoving some bacon into his mouth.

"Is..- is that it?" Stan asked, keeping his head down but looking across the table at Richie.

"I guess so..?" Richie said through a mouthful of food.

"You sure?" Stan raised his eyebrow in question, scooping the last of his eggs into his mouth and standing up. He put the plate and fork in the sink and ran the hot water over them.

"Mhm. Why?" Richie asked Stan.

"No reason." He shrugged, washing his dishes with a sponge.

"I did something stupid, didn't I?" Richie chuckled nervously.

"No.." Stan replied, now drying the plate.

"I said something stupid?" Richie asked, his brain whizzing with all the things he could've said to Stan.

"Uh-uh." He shook his head, slotting the plate back into the cupboard and placing the fork back into the drawer.

"Okay.." Richie breathed out in relief, standing up and putting his own plate into the sink and began washing it.

"I'm gonna go get dressed." Stan said after a few seconds. "I think i might go.. quoting you, 'stalk the birds'."

"Right." Richie nodded, scrubbing his plate vigorously.

"You wanna come with me or..?" Stan trailed off.

"Nah," Richie shook his head. "I would, but I have to go talk to Ben, so.."

"Right," Stan nodded. "See you later, then?"

"Yeah." Richie hummed, still scrubbing his plate, even though it was obvious clean by now.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•

It was about 1:30pm now, Stan had been sitting gazing at the birds at the memorial park for about an hour, not really paying attention to them, but just thinking.

Stan snapped out of his thoughts when a familiar squirrel-faced guy stepped out from the bushes, blocking his view of the stone bird bath.

"Hey, flamer."

Stan huffed, rolling his eyes. "What'd you want, Bowers?" He asked, getting ready to stand up and make a run for it, but a pair of hands pushed him back onto the bench from behind, as the other two morons known as Belch Huggins and Victor Criss slid onto the bench at either side of him, successfully giving him no room for escape.

•*•*•*•*•*•*•

:3