Chapter Text
Bzz. Bzzzz.
Richie presses the apartment buzzer relentlessly, feeling antsy at the lack of an immediate reply. “Come on Bevvie, don't disappoint”, he mutters to himself, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Yeah, holy shit I'm here, hello?” A tinny sounding voice comes through the speaker, annoyed and breathless but so endearingly familiar that Richie already feels slightly calmer.
“Bev! Darling! How are ya?”
There's a moment of dead air before a sigh fills the silence, followed by “Come on up loser, door's unlocked when you get here”, and the buzz of the front door being unlocked for him.
On his way upstairs, Richie's mind is curiously blank, thoughts racing no more than usual. Sure, he's still pretty pissed after that... whatever the hell it was in the coffee shop. It's not like he fucking meant to fall asleep, okay? He was buying coffee to achieve the exact opposite effect (although coffee never actually seems to wake him up, plus he fucking hates the taste-- so maybe not his best plan then, sue him). Either way, waking up to a screechy little gremlin flinging insults at him isn't exactly what he would call a solid end to his day.
Still, he meant what he had said. That horrible little man-child isn't worth his time, and all he wants is to push the incident firmly out of his mind. He's come to the conclusion in the last few years that the key to adult life is just repressing the hell out of everything and anything unpleasant, and it's worked out pretty well for him so far.
So by the time he makes it to the seventh floor, cursing the on service elevator and his own inability to make it up any amount of stairs without getting winded, all he wants to do is have a chill night in with his best friend. He's thinking a family size bag of bugles, It's Always Sunny reruns, a joint or two, possibly crashing there for the night without Bev asking any questions. Damn if that's not the dream.
Unfortunately, as he lets himself in through the front door, mindlessly humming the tune to some radio ad he heard earlier, he is met with the face of a very displeased and slightly concerned looking Beverly Marsh standing in the hallway, arms crossed.
“What the hell, Rich?”
Her eyes rake over his figure, brows pinching closer together with every sweep. Richie immediately feels on edge, reverting to his tried and true method of deflection.
“Heya Bev, top'a the evenin' to ya! Is Stan the man around or is this young madame here all by her lonesome tonight?” His voice starts off as some kind of Irish accent and ends up morphing into something vaguely like the Italian chef from Lady and the Tramp. He cranes his neck to try and see into the living room, looking for any sign of the apartment's other tenant.
Bev sighs, reaching up to tug a hand through her hair. “Stan's got the overnight shift tonight, Rich. That's why I invited Ben over, remember?”
As if he'd been waiting for his cue, the man himself steps slightly awkwardly out of Bev's bedroom. Light grin pasted on his face, he brings one hand up in what appears to be a half-hearted attempt at a wave. “Hey Richie, how are you?”
And oh.
Shit.
Richie actually does remember Bev telling him about her plans for the night, now that he thinks about it. Her face slightly flushed, a grin tugging insistently at the corner of her mouth when she brought up Ben's name. Richie can remember the warmth that bloomed in his chest at seeing Bev look so happy. She deserves it, more than anyone.
Of course he'd be the one to fuck it up.
“Ah, whoops! Well, you know what they say. If two's a party, three's a goddamn rager. By all means, don't let me stop you two. I'd be more than happy to contribute to the team.” He throws a wink in Ben's direction, before glancing over and locking eyes with Bev.
She drops her gaze, draws her shoulders up ever so slightly.
Richie immediately regrets his words.
The two of them have a... well, history might not be the right word. Richie and Bev have never been RichieandBev, but there were times where they could have been. Times where maybe they wanted to, where maybe that would have been easier than muddling their way through whatever the hell they were to get to where they are today-- friends. Best friends, really, an integral part of each other's lives, all their bullshit intertwined so tightly by this point that no sane person would try to unravel it.
Still, the reminder that they each know what the other looks like naked is always an unsettling thought, one Richie would prefer to live without. Maybe, maybe, he should try cutting back on the sex jokes.
Just then, however, Ben- beautiful, glorious, peacekeeping Ben- lets out a laugh, walking forward to clap Richie on the shoulder. “I don't know if we're quite there yet Rich, maybe we should try starting with a movie?” he asks, tone warm.
Richie loves Ben, he really does. In this moment, definitely, but mostly just overall. He's pretty new, still, to their group, him and Bev have been seeing each other for a few months now. Richie's so accustomed to it being Bev, Stan and himself against the world, significant others flitting in and out of their lives with no real impact, that the inclusion of Ben is still a little jarring at times. He's good, though. Just a genuinely good guy; sweet and awkwardly charming and whip smart and so, so good to Bev.
As Richie plants a wet kiss on Ben's cheek and moves to head toward the couch, Bev puts a hand on his arm to stop him. “Wait a sec Richie. Honestly, what's up with you today? Why do you look like a gas station attendant in a b-horror movie?” She wrinkles her nose slightly, removes her hand. “Actually, why do you smell like one too?”
Richie groans, loud and dramatic as he throws his head back. “God, what is today, just rip into Richie day? Can't you people just let me live?”
“What people?” Ben pipes up.
“Hm? Oh nothin', Benny-boy. Just met a demon child at a coffee shop earlier, ain't no big thang'.”
When it looks like Bev is going to question him further on that little statement, Richie spins around and starts heading away from the two of them towards the bathroom.
“I'm gonna grab a quick shower, let you two finish up,” he wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Bev flashes her middle finger, “then let's watch a movie or something, yeah? Bev, what kind of loofah do you have? I really need to exfoliate.”
He shuts the door before he can hear her shouted reply, laughing to himself as he turns on the shower head.
***
Richie emerges some twenty minutes later, steam pouring out of the doorway behind him. Even wrapped back up in the same unwashed clothes as before, he can admit he feels a lot better.
He turns into the living room to find Bev and Ben snuggled together on the couch, and Richie has no qualms about throwing himself directly across both their laps.
Ben lets out a slightly pained grunt before huffing out a laugh, while Bev's only response is to start running her hands through Richie's hair, gently untangling the curls.
Richie moves into the touch, eyes closing as he shifts to get more comfortable. “So folks, what movie are we watching?”
Bev's hands still on his head, and Richie blinks his eyes open to see both her and Ben gazing down at him with concerned eyes.
Bev, never one to pull punches, cuts right to the chase. “Nope. What the hell is up with you today Rich, why are you even here?”
“Not that we mind or anything, of course,” Ben cuts in. “It just seems like something's off.”
“Nothing's wrong! Holy shit guys, maybe quit it with the therapy mode.” He aims for joking, but his voice sounds forced even to his own ears.
Bev fixes him with a look. “Is it Lucas?”
Richie is silent for a beat too long, which seems to be the only answer Bev needs. She sits up straighter, mouth pinched.
“Seriously Rich?”
Ben looks between the two of them, confused. “Who's Lucas?”
Richie, still splayed across both their laps, lifts a hand up near their heads and waves it vaguely. “No one, he's just my roommate. It's nothing.”
“It's not nothing!” Bev's voice is sharp. “He's a total asshole, I've told you this a million times.”
“I mean? He's really not that bad. We're... friends, technically. In some sense of the word, I'm sure.”
“Rich, he was your weed dealer two years ago, and you should know by now that half-drunken hookups a few times a year doesn't count as a friendship”.
Richie doesn't know how to respond, just flops his hand back down and burrows further into their laps. This isn't anything he hasn't heard from Bev a million times before, and he really doesn't feel like rehashing all of this shit on top of dealing with his crappy day.
Bev, apparently, didn't get the memo, because she pokes his cheek, forcing him back into the conversation. “So, what was it this time? Did he eat your leftovers? Steal all your change for laundry? Do blow on the kitchen table?”
“Nah, repeat performances aren't really his style.” Richie sighs, able to recognize by this point that Bev isn't going to drop it. He throws one arm over his face, obscuring his vision and muffling his voice. “He didn't pay his half of the hydro bill and I didn't have enough to cover for him, so our hot water's been shut off for a couple days. Also, I got sexiled. Sock on the doorknob and everything, kinda cliche, but hey, it got the job done.”
“Are you serious? He can't just kick you out of your own apartment in the middle of the goddamn day. You pay rent, you live there too!”
“Well technically you're wrong ma deah', your lad's name isn't on the lease now innit? This poor lass has got no say over what goes.”
Bev bites her lip, shaking her head. “That's such bullshit. So is him not paying his own bills, for fuck's sake! You've gotta get out of that apartment babe.”
Richie groans. “It's so close to campus though!”
Ben, who had appeared lost in thought for the last few minutes, cuts in. “Hey, Rich, y'know, if you're looking for a new place I might know a guy.”
Richie sits up, startled. “Wait, seriously?”
“Yeah! This guy, Mike. We worked together freshman year, I still see him around campus sometimes. He mentioned something a couple weeks ago about needing a new roommate. I don't know if he's still looking, but I can check in with him about it, if you want?”
Richie pauses, considering. His place really is close to campus, but is that worth putting up with all the bullshit? No harm in at least meeting with this Mike guy, really.
“That'd actually be great Haystack! You're a real life angel.”
Ben laughs, shoving Richie back down from where he'd wormed his way under Ben's shoulder and wrapped his arms around his neck. Richie settles back down on their laps, and Bev picks up the remote to turn on the tv.
Who fucking knows really, maybe things will actually work out.