Work Text:
Although Stan had warned him about the smell, it still catches Eddie off guard when he makes his way into the little shop. It isn’t particularly vile, but it is definitely strong, oddly similar to that of cleaning supplies, like someone spilled an entire container of bleach on the floor. But with that, mixed in with the chemical odor, is something musty, too – earthy and natural and sweet, an odd combination of things. He freezes upon walking through the door, the bell ringing above him signaling his entrance. As he blinks slowly in surprise, he can hear a soft chuckle, followed by someone asking, “I’m guessing it’s your first time here?”
“Yeah,” he answers quickly, shaking his head once to try and get over the initial shock. He steps forward, sweeping his gaze slowly over the shelves in front of him. From the outside, this place looks to be an average size, but it seems much larger now, twice as big as he had expected it to be. Then again, he also expected it to look absolutely insane, but this is… fairly normal at first glance, actually.
“Well, come on in, don’t be shy,” the same voice speaks up, and it’s now that Eddie realizes he can’t see the person who is talking to him. Curious, he takes another step forward, brows furrowing together as he looks around again, this time seeking out the presence of another person. Apparently seeing his confusion, the voice says, “You won’t be able to see me, I’m not there.”
Frowning, he asks, “What, uh… what does that mean? Where are you?”
“I’m at home,” the voice tells him simply, and if he knew what the person looked like, he’d be able to imagine a shrug. “Today’s my day off, but we’re a little understaffed at the moment, so there’s only one person working and he needed a quick break to use the bathroom and smoke or something like that. I’m just looking over things until he gets back.”
An uneasy feeling bristles at the back of his neck, the feeling of eyes on him, eyes belonging to someone he cannot identify. He knows it is the person talking to him, but it still causes goosebumps to rise along his arms. A little cautious, he asks, “How are you seeing me right now?”
For a moment, silence. The uneasy feeling grows stronger. Then the voice lets out a loud snort and explains, “Look, I know this is a magic shop, but we live in the same century you do. I’m using the security cameras. Not everything about witchcraft has to be all mysterious, just so you know. We’re perfectly capable of using technology, too.”
“Oh,” he murmurs, feeling his face heat up and rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Um, sorry. I just… I’ve never—”
“You look new,” a different voice interrupts, and this time it belongs to a person – a man, looking about Eddie’s age, with his hair pulled up into a loose bun and glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He looks Eddie up and down, hums, and smiles. “What can I do for ya?”
The original voice laughs lightly, murmuring, “And that’s my cue to go. Let me know if you need anything else, Richie. I can always come down if you want some help.”
Immediately, the man in the room, Richie, waves a dismissive hand and says, “Don’t sweat it, Mikey, I’ve got this. Go, be with your boys, have a nice day off. You deserve it, man.” With that, he tears his gaze away from Eddie, who is still standing there warily, and hangs up the phone that Eddie hadn’t noticed before. Assumedly, that is how the original voice – Mike, Eddie guesses, unless his full name really is Mikey – was speaking to him, and he feels foolish all over again for assuming there had to be some kind of magical explanation for that whole ordeal.
It’s not his fault, really. He doesn’t have much experience with this type of thing. Or any experience, actually. After all, he always has been and always will be a mere human with a fascination for witchcraft that he was too afraid to indulge in until now.
“So,” Richie says, bringing Eddie’s attention back to the present. “You are new, right? I’ve never seen you around before and we usually just have the same customers, so new faces stand out.”
“Um.” Eddie clears his throat, looking around the shop for the third time, only now he pays closer attention to the things he sees. There’s plenty of vials and containers with labels too small for him to read, as well as odd knick-knacks and things that only serve to intrigue him even further. Quietly, a little bit distracted from examining his surroundings, Eddie answers, “Yeah, uh- yeah. I’ve never been here before. Or anywhere like this, really.”
Richie hums lightly, leaning against the counter and propping his chin in his palm, his smile small and somewhat lazy. “Human, I’m guessing?”
Approaching a strange little snow globe-like structure to his left, Eddie nods. “Is it obvious?”
“Takes one to know one,” Richie shrugs simply.
This causes Eddie to falter, brows drawn together as he looks away from the shelves and back to Richie, who’s just watching him, features gentle yet unreadable. “You’re not a witch?”
“Nope,” Richie states.
“But you work at a magic shop,” Eddie points out, confused. “A magic shop that’s owned by the most well-known family of witches in all of New York.”
Richie’s smile widens into a grin. “You mean the Hanlon’s? Yeah, we go way back. When Will Hanlon passed and left the shop in his son’s name, Mikey hooked me up with a job. Our families have known each other for generations and we’ve been best friends since we were in diapers, so he trusts me to give out the right information for those who wander their way in here. Most people that stop by don’t need help finding what they want, though, so I just ring them up and bid them a nice day as they leave.”
Intrigued, Eddie turns away from the rest of the shop and approaches Richie, eyes wide with wonder as he comes to a stop on the other side of the countertop separating them. Richie’s brows quirk up at the sudden closeness, but Eddie doesn’t notice, instead asking, “What are your usual customers like? Like, are you used to humans coming in, or is it usually witches and other things?”
“First of all,” Richie chuckles, “you should avoid using the word things. They’re creatures, just like humans are. Trust me, if you try to call them things, you’ll end up regretting it.”
“Oh,” Eddie frowns, a guilty ball of heat forming in the pit of his stomach. “Sorry. My mom was never really accepting of other creatures and stuff, so I never learned the right way to address these kinds of topics. I didn’t mean to—”
Shaking his head, Richie lifts a hand to stop him and assures, “No, no, you’re fine. I can tell you don’t know much just from the way you’re acting in here. Just, you know… don’t do it again.”
With an energetic nod, Eddie promises, “I won’t.”
Looking amused, Richie cocks his head to the side, scanning over Eddie for the second, maybe even the third time. Eddie isn’t sure what to make of this, so he just waits to see what happens, and he’s mildly surprised when Richie simply asks, “What’s your name?”
“Eddie,” he answers.
“Why are you here, Eddie?”
Again, Eddie falters, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and looking off to his left as he ponders over his answer. There are many things he could say, various explanations that are all equally true, but he knows everything boils down to one common factor. “Curiosity,” he answers after a moment.
This seems to be a good answer, as Richie’s blue eyes are glimmering when Eddie looks back at him, his features bright and excited. “Curiosity for what, exactly?”
“Um…” Eddie trails off, brows furrowing together as he sweeps his gaze over the shop once again. There’s not one thing that stands out to him more than the rest, because he wants to know it all. With a little sigh, he decides to explain, “Everything, I guess. I know… literally none of this. Like, I was being serious when I said my mom was very anti-supernatural. She tried to make me scared of all the stuff related to supernatural beings, but I was always just curious, and now that she’s gone, I want to actually learn about everything, understand it and be better than my mom was.”
“Gone?” Richie asks quietly, though Eddie can tell by the little glint of sadness in his eyes that he already knows what he means. Eddie appreciates him wanting to clarify, though.
“Yeah, she passed away, like, two weeks ago,” Eddie says. The words still feel a little weird, a little heavy, but they aren’t upsetting to him. She’s not someone worth mourning in his eyes.
Richie frowns. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be,” Eddie tells him with a shrug. “She wasn’t exactly a good person, you know? She kind of fucked me up a lot when I was a kid, so I’m not gonna miss her.”
“In that case, good riddance,” Richie says, pushing off the counter to stand fully, and he’s smiling again, looking at Eddie like he’s a puzzle he wants to solve. Without any warning, he suddenly rounds the counter until he’s standing by Eddie’s side, gesturing out over the store as he asks, “What do you want to learn about first?”
Eddie looks up at Richie, blinking once in mild shock. “Aren’t you working?”
“Yeah, but it’s not like I won’t be in the room. If someone comes in, I can still do my job just fine.” Richie steps forward, tapping a finger against the smooth glass of the same snow globe-like thing Eddie had been looking at before. The objects inside swirl aggressively for a moment before stilling. Eddie isn’t sure if he imagined that or not. He’s kind of afraid to ask. “I can spare some time to give you some magic lessons. Just tell me what you want to know.”
Grinning, Eddie doesn’t try to protest any further, instead spinning around and examining everything around him closely, reading labels and little signs as he contemplates his options. He really does want to learn about all of this, but he knows he has to start somewhere. Which is why, when he finally spots something that catches his eye, he briskly walks towards it, eyes going wide as he scans over the little vials lining the shelf farthest from the door. “You guys sell potions?”
Richie trails after Eddie slowly, smiling to himself. “We do, yeah. Not a lot, because most witches want to buy ingredients and make their own, but Mike likes to make some good ones for humans who don’t know how to make them by themselves.”
“Do love potions actually exist?” Eddie asks, not bothering to look away from the potions in front of him. They all just look like little containers of juice, but they’re labeled things like healing, sleep, and various other simple things like that. When Richie doesn’t immediately answer him, he explains, “I don’t want to use it or anything, I’m just curious. I’ve only ever heard about love potions, never any of these, and I never knew if they were real or not. Are they?”
“They are, yeah,” Richie tells him slowly, sounding like he’s carefully choosing his words as he speaks. “They’re kind of… frowned upon, to say the least. Most people don’t think it’s cool to make someone fall in love with you, you know? It’s, like, controlling them, forcing them into something they didn’t want. So, yeah, they’re real, but they’re considered more in the realm of dark magic these days.”
Humming lightly, Eddie nods, murmuring, “Yeah, that makes sense. I never really saw the appeal in all those fairytales talking about love potions. I don’t like the idea of being forced into love.”
Richie’s smile widens. “Me, too.”
“What else is considered dark magic?” Eddie questions, finally looking away from the potions in order to raise his brows at Richie curiously. “I mean, like- what’s good, what’s bad? Other than the obvious shit, like poison or using magic for murder or whatever.”
“Um.” Richie purses his lips thoughtfully, pondering over Eddie’s question, and Eddie waits patiently until he says, “To be honest, a lot of things are kind of relative. It depends on how you look at it. Like, not all people think that love potions are bad, just the majority does. What’s considered good and bad kind of depends on who you’re asking, I guess.”
“I’m asking you,” Eddie states simply.
Richie pauses, his eyes flickering between Eddie’s for a moment. Eddie just looks back at him, gaze unwavering, until Richie ducks his head, eyes dancing behind his glasses. “That you are,” he agrees. He looks over his shoulder, and when Eddie follows his gaze, he finds a clock on the far wall. “How about this,” Richie starts, looking back at Eddie with a crinkly-eyed grin. “I don’t get off until six, but if you’re willing to come back here or meet me somewhere, we can get some dinner and I can tell you everything I know. Would that be okay?”
“That’d be great,” Eddie nods, grinning just as wide. “I’ll come back when you get off, but you’re in charge of choosing where we eat. Don’t let me down.”
“I’ll try my best,” Richie says, his eyes following after Eddie as he brushes past him. Just as Eddie reaches the door, his hand pressed to the wood and ready to make his way outside, Richie calls out, “Don’t be late!”
Eddie looks over his shoulder to meet Richie’s gaze, and he can see the mixture of amusement and instant infatuation flittering over his features, making him bite down on his lower lip to stop himself from beaming like a maniac as he replies, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”