Chapter Text
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA: May 31 1987, 7:27 AM
Mike Wheeler was pissed. Beyond pissed! Livid! Nothing about his current situation was fair! The situation as it stood? He was waiting at the bus station for a greyhound.
This greyhound that he had to wake up at the ass-crack of dawn (5:30) to be driven to by his family. This greyhound that would take him to Buffalo where he would be dropped off and get on a new bus to Boston, where he would take a third bus to Portland, Maine where he would be picked up by his uncle (whom he hadn’t even seen in 9 years) to be driven, by car, to his house in the middle of nowhere.
His house where he would be staying for a whole month . A whole month away from his friends and away from El. This was the first month of summer, too! 36 weeks of saving up as many quarters as he could with the party so they could spend as much time on the soon to be newly unveiled games at the arcade as possible, for nothing! All of the movies coming out this month, he wouldn’t be able to see with his friends. His first few breaths of summer freedom and he wouldn’t even be in his home state.
And the reason for his practical kidnapping? His mother said he needed to ‘get away from it all for a little while’. According to her, Hawkins was becoming a restricting environment for him. His grades were slipping, he was refusing to spend time with people outside of the Party, and more so was spending an unhealthy amount of time at his new girlfriend’s house, but most troubling of all he had been having bigger outbursts than was usual for him anytime his parents started asking questions; this, in combination with the startling increase of disappearances and deaths in the town, was plenty of reason in her eyes to send him to spend a quarter of his summer at her brother’s house in Maine.
Mike couldn’t recall much of his uncle Wentworth. From his own memory he could remember a tall man who shared his dark curls and sported a thick mustache and told a few bad jokes. He knew from his mother that he left Indiana to be a dentist (which Gram and Gramps loved), married a jewish woman named Margaret (Which Gram and Gramps were a little less than jazzed about, hence his absence from most family functions); and also had a son his age, an aspect of his little vacation that his mother was desperately trying to play up.
“Oh I just know that you and Richard are going to get along great!” Karen gushed. “Went says that he’s very smart, just like you. Top of his class! And he also likes all of that videos game stuff you and your little friends like to play around with! Speaking of friends, Went says that Richard has a big group of friends that he likes to hang out with. I’m sure that he’d be willing to introduce y-”
“Yeah, Mom, I get it, Richard’s great!” He snapped. He was tired of hearing about Richard and he was tired of hearing about… what was it called? Dairy? His hope for the month was that he could sleep through it and what he couldn’t sleep through he would spend at the local arcade.
Karen pursed her lips as a canned voice announced that his bus was ready to be boarded. With a grunt, Michael stood up and took his overpacked suitcase in hand. She sighed and stood as well and placed a soft kiss 0n top of his head, to which he murmured something about being embarrassing and pulled away. She slightly frowned. “Please, Mike, promise me that you’ll at least make an effort to have a good summer. And be nice to your family. Maggie and Went and Richard are so excited to have you come up to see them.”
Mike gave her a small, non-committal smile. “I’ll try.”
DERRY, MAINE: May 31, 12:32 PM
Richie was not too particularly excited to have his cousin stay at his place for a whole month. So he was currently laying in the hammock of the Loser’s clubhouse, cuddling with Eddie whom he was sharing a comic book with, and bitching about it openly to the group.
“-and his name is Mike too! That’ll mess up our whole name flow! Plus I’ve got to share my room with him, too! Do you guys know how hard it’s gonna be to crank one out with compa-” He rambled to be met with a loud beep-beeping from the group and an elbow to the gut from his hammock companion. He wheezed and then continued his rant. “Apparently, the whole reason he’s even coming in the first place is because Aunt Karen got so sick of his bitching at home and we’re meant to be his home for wayward boys for a whole fucking month!”
“Ca-Can we have an e-exchange pr-program.” Bill joked, readjusting his shower card and slamming down a draw four card, causing Stan to scream in frustration as he picked up 16 cards, going off about how stacking was against the rules.
“You say that, but you guys would be lost without me! I add levity!” Richie defended himself.
“Bet?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “What I really need you for is to turn the fucking page already .”
“Oh I’ll turn something alright” Richie growled jokingly and before Eddie could get the words out to tell him to stop or to ask what he meant, Richie reached across his torso to grab the other side of the hammock and take a hard tug, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Eddie landed on top of Richie, prompting the two into an impromptu wrestling match.
Beverly finally spoke up. “...Are we just going to ignore the fact that Richie even knows what the word levity even means?”
PORTLAND, MAINE: June 1, 9:55 AM
Mike woke up as the bus jolted to a halt and the driver loudly announced to him all of the other passengers where the were. Mike rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he peeled himself off the sweaty-sticky pleather seat. He grabbed his heavy suitcase and with wobbly legs, and stepped out of the bus, squinting at the sudden appearance of the light of day. 27 hours and 25 minutes of buses had not been kind to him.
He looked around warily for his uncle Went, going off of only memories from when he was a child at Christmas of 1978. Finally he saw a man in his 40’s, standing above the crowd at a respectable 6’4. His hair was a little faded now, but Mike still remembered those kind blue eyes and thick mustache. The sign that he held aloth over his head that read “ MIKE WHEELER ” Like an airport chauffeur also helped his case. He broke through crowds of families to get to him with a loud “Wentworth?!”
Wentworth Tozier was not an easily shakeable man. But when his son appeared from the masses of people when he was sure he was still in Derry, he was downright rattled. “Son?” He asked.
“Well, nephew, but yeah.” The teen smiled… MIKE!
As he looked closer, he could see some differences. The most obvious was the lack of comically large glasses and eccentric fashion choices. Richie’s hair was curlier and longer. This kid had black eyes where as his own son had inherited his own blues, even if they were dark enough to be mistaken for black as well. Also, this kid’s voice was slightly deeper than Richie’s, as well as being perhaps an inch shorter. Other than that, this kid was more likely to be Richie’s twin than his cousin. He smiled, sure Richie would get a kick out of this.
“Sorry Mike, it’s just… wow, you look so much like Richie. You two already have so much in common, on top of being twins, I’m sure you two will be like peas in a pod this summer.” Wentworth took Mike’s bags and hefted them over to his car as his nephew followed.
“So I’ve heard.” Mike’s nostrils flared. He was getting really sick of his apparently perfect cousin and he hadn’t even met the guy yet. Mike mentally scolded himself as he loaded himself into Went’s truck. Surely Richie wouldn’t be that unpleasant to be around once they actually properly met.
DERRY, MAINE: JUNE 1, 10:00 AM
Richie sat on Mike’s shoulders, grappling with Eddie, who was sat on Bill’s shoulders. The water of the quarry lapped at his ankles.
“You’re dead trashmouth! You can’t even lift a pillow with those noodle arms!” Eddie taunted.
“That's not what Joe said last night.” Richie smirked,causing Eddies face to go red.
“Who’s Joe?!” Eddie demanded, temporarily stunned in jealousy
“JOE DICK!” Richie shouted as he fucking decimated his boyfriend, using the moment of hesitation to slam both him and Bill.
Eddie resurfaced. “THAT WASN’T FAIR!” He yelled, still a little red but for a different reason now.
“All’s fair in love and war, Eds!” Richie declared from his perch. “I just employed the age old 10-indie technique.”
“What the hell is 10-indie?” Eddie questioned, regretting it when a wicked smile crossed Richie’s face.
“TEN INDIE IN YOUR ASS!” He cackled like a hyena in an quaaludes factory, earning him a scattered and mixed reaction ranging from similar cackling to a tired “Gross.”
Michael Hanlon is the only hero in this story as he jumped up and did what can only be called a rudimentary suplex with Richie on his shoulders.
DERRY, MAINE: JUNE 1, 12:10 PM
Mike crumpled up the McDonald’s cheeseburger wrapper from the drive through they had gone through on the way to the Tozier household and place it in the brown paper bag it came from. He looked out the window as the Plymouth Fury rolled into a driveway. The house wasn’t as big as his own, the Toziers had only one child compared to the Wheeler’s three and reasonably needed less bedrooms, but it had an air about it of being a nice house. The type of nice one could afford when one of the main providers ran the only dental practice for 17 miles in any direction. Went put the car in park and got out, gesturing to the house with a flourish.
“Welcome to casa de Tozier!” Wentworth exclaimed and then he winked. “Mags is making a special lunch for you right now, so that little McDonald’s trip will be our little secret. Don’t worry though, if you’re anything like the rest of the men in our family, you have a metabolism like an Olympian until you turn 35 and then it all goes down hill.”
“O...kay.” Mike drawled. If there was anything he was used to by now, it was keeping secrets.
“Run inside and greet your Aunt Maggy, I’ll get your bags out of the car.” Wentworth waved him off.
Mike accepted his dismissal and with all of the angst of a teen boy being forced to spend time with family and having to be polite about it, he stormed into the house. The first thing that hit him about the house was pairs of glasses everywhere. Glasses of different prescriptions, from readers to basically being classified as binoculars, and styles and sizes could be seen on several different surfaces. Like they were the kind of people who constantly needed their vision improved at a moments notice. The next thing he noticed was the lack of any sign that they even had a son. Mike had always been a homebody. He never had much reason to leave the safety of his house before he got a girlfriend. His house was the designated hangout spot for the party, his basement was where their dnd campaigns were held, and he had the Atari. His house, therefore, was covered in signs of his living there. Trophies on the mantel, character sheets left half finished on the coffee table, die lost in the couch cushions, plastic stormtroopers left in places where his dad would accidently step and the Wheeler kids, as well as their guests, would walk away knowing a new curse word.
The only indication that a third person lived in this house from where he stood was a pair of dirty busted keds next to the front door. It was like Richard enjoyed spending time anywhere else but here, something else they had in common!
The last little detail he noticed about the house was the absolutely amazing smell coming from the kitchen. He followed the smell to the kitchen where a woman was checking the temperature of some kind of casserole. She heard the thud of shoes and glanced at him for a second before turning back to her casserole. In his quick look at her face, he could see that she had high cheekbones obscured by cheeks that had managed to hold onto their baby fat for 40 years and light brown eyes with concealer covered bags under them. She also wore thick horn-rimmed glasses on a chain around her neck and seemed to have a permanent crease between her brows.
“Richard Wentworth Tozier! I cannot believe that you went out with your friends all day after I told you that Michael was coming! I swear you hang out in those woods almost every day, would it kill you to spend one day with your family, at home . What if Michael had gotten here and you weren’t there to greet him.” She scolded.
“Um sorry, Aunt Maggie.” Mike apologized in his cousin’s place. His cousin who was apparently *shudder* an outdoors person. Mike didn’t even like to spend the five minutes in the woods it took for him to get from the street to Hopper’s cabin to see El.
Maggie whipped around and perched her glasses on her nose and gasped as her mother's instincts took over and she saw that this wasn’t her baby, “Mike! Oh, I’m sorry for yelling. I thought you were Richie! You two look so much alike. I would get out the photo albums but my hands are dirty. You’ll see it as soon as he gets home anyways. IF he ever comes home and doesn’t end up spending the night with Eddie again.” She rolled her eyes.
“I’ve heard.” Mike grimaced.
“I really do hope you two get along this summer, me and Wentworth set up the camping cot in Richie’s room and it would stink if we had to move into the den because you two couldn’t share a space.” She half joked. “You can go wash up and get settled in, Mike. Lunch will be ready in ten.”
Mike was once again dismissed by a family member and wandered towards the room he would be sharing. Richie’s room held a few more personal artifacts. There was a large street fighter poster and a Weird Al Yankovic poster hanging over his bed. There was a couple of library-borrowed joke books on a desk next to a discarded walkman and a rather impressive cassette collection. On the bedside table was a giant stack of dog-eared comics, from Calvin and Hobbes to x-men. Sure enough there was a twin-sized cot pressed against the opposite wall to Richie’s full sized bed. On top of the cot, Went had laid his bags. He grabbed his toiletries and carried them to the bathroom a door over. He started putting his things into their proper places when an odd detail caught his eye.
The toothbrush holder.
Inside it sat seven different toothbrushes of different colors. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, and pink. The orange one was clearly the most used, followed closely by the red one. When Mike went to place his beige one alongside the others, he noticed another odd miniscule detail. Each toothbrush had a corresponding letter written on the handle in ultra fine tipped marker. At first Mike though that they possibly were for days of the week and maybe his cousin had some kind of neuroses that made him use a day of the week toothbrush, but the letters didn’t match up. E, R, BN, BL, S, M, and BV.
Mike felt like he didn’t have enough time to stare as he heard a door slam and a loud “MOM WHERE DO WE KEEP THE SUPER SOAKERS?” followed by the sound of Aunt Maggie chewing the voice out. Ah. Must be Richie. Mike went back to the kitchen to finally meet his cousin. Richie stood with his back to the door, His hair was wet and brushed his bare shoulders. He held his soaking wet shirt in one fist and and a pair of folded glasses in the other. His cargo shorts were the most dry thing about him. “So what? I forgot he was coming today! It’s not like I won’t be seeing the guy every day for the next month, anyways.”
Mike loudly cleared his throat behind him and Richie quickly snapped his glasses onto his face and spun on his heel to face him, arms almost raised in a defensive position. Mike was looking in a mirror with buddy holly glasses now. Neither said anything, just studying each other's feature in stunned silence. Finally Richie broke the silence.
“Well dang, no one told me I was finally gonna have competition for handsomest man in Derry.”