#<- venturing into the main tag please dont murderkill me

[theiloveyousong]

hiiiiii um. prompt. the nerds (richie ruth peter) and steph celebrating hanukkah together maybe

hi anon ilyyy! this was soooo fun 2 write <3 might flesh it out and plop it on ao3 tbh. it got away from me

Snow falls in a thin layer outside Hatchetfield High. The middle of December chill seeps in through the windows and doors, overpowering the weak heating and giving everyone an excuse to wear a coat during class. In the third floor Biology Accelerated classroom, Steph leans over and taps Pete on the shoulder. She smiles at him with a bit of nervousness. “Uh, so what if I told you I wasn’t listening to any of what Mrs. Mulberry is saying?”

Pete makes a face at her. “Steph! Come on, we’ve been over this. You have to try to get good grades, they’re not just going to happen!”

Steph grins. “Sooo… if I asked you to come to Pasqualli’s tonight and help me study?”

Pete’s face falls. “I would, Steph, I really want to, but it’s the first night of Chanukah, and Ruth and Richie and I always do something.” He must see the badly concealed disappointment in her face, because he backpedals and adds “But you can come over too, yeah! That would be great, and I’m sure Richie and Ruth would be glad to have you there.”

Steph raises an eyebrow. “Sure, Spankoffski.” Pete chuckles a bit.

When the bell rings out at the end of eighth period, Richie races down the hall to get to his car. He stops in his tracks when he sees Pete and Steph standing by the driver’s side door, Pete with an ashamed expression on his face and Steph leaning against the car making a face at her phone. She looks up at Pete. “Dictator said I’ve been released for a couple hours, so we’re good to go. You wanna ask the ner- Oh. Hi Richie.” She gives him a lazy wave. A couple more drops of sweat drip down Pete’s face. Richie swipes Pete aside.

“You invited Stephanie Lauter to our Chanukah party? Without asking?” he hisses.

Pete smiles a guilty smile. “Yeah? Sorry?”

Richie drops Pete’s shirt and holds his hands up. “Fuckin’ useless, Pete!” He sighs. “Geez, I didn’t know you thought Steph was so kawaii.” Pete’s face turns purple, and he splutters incoherently for a bit before Richie shushes him dramatically. “It’s okay, Peter. I will become your sensei… and educate you on how to talk to your waifus.”

Pete frowns. “Don’t call her that.” Richie mimes pushing up a pair of glasses, and Pete snorts.

Just then, Ruth stumbles out of the front door, fumbling with a huge binder full of sticky tabs and her water bottle. She almost drops the bottle while flipping through the pages of the binder, marked ‘BBQ Monologues Lighting Script - 2020 - Property of Ruth Fleming - Trevor don’t fucking touch this and stop changing your lines!!!!!!’. Pete lunges forward to help her catch it, and she pats him on the back while scribbling down a cue. “Thanks, Pete, sorry, busy!” she rushes out, dumping the pile of things in the backseat with a sigh. She looks up and makes eye contact with Steph, who’s been staring at her for at least thirty seconds. They look at each other. They keep looking at each other. Richie waves a hand in front of Ruth’s face, and her eyes snap back into focus. “Okay! Let’s get this party started!” she yells, grabbing Steph’s hand and pulling her into the crowded backseat. Pete slides into shotgun, and Richie starts the car.

At Pete’s apartment, Ted’s car is nowhere to be found. A menorah balances precariously on the windowsill, visible from the parking lot. The nerds pile out of the car, giggling while walking up the staircase inside the building. Pete jiggles his door handle and it slowly creaks inward. “Oh my God,” he groans, “Ted left the door unlocked again.”

He pulls out his phone and dials a number. It rings for a couple seconds, and then Ted’s voice buzzes out from the speakers with a smug “What’s up, Petey?”

Pete scowls at the screen. “If you keep leaving the front fucking door unlocked all day and there’s a robber here when I get home, I swear I will help them take all your things.”

Ted chuckles over the phone and starts a sentence, but is cut off by the sound of covers shifting and a sleepy voice drawling, “Teddy? Who is that?”

Ted hastily says “Okay talk tomorrow get sleep or whatever love you bye!” and hangs up.

Pete stares dumbfounded at his phone, no longer making noise. ”…What?” He pushes open the door. “So. Latkes.”

–

There’s a hazy buzz in the air as the lightbulbs flicker. Steph is playing with Pete’s hair as he lays in her lap, Ruth and Richie still engaged in a dreidel face off. They both keep spinning נ, and are getting worryingly competitive. “It’s a game of luck, you know,” Pete hollers from his place on the couch.

Ruth yells, “You only think that since you always win!” She spins the dreidel a bit too aggressively, causing it to spin right off the table and land under the couch.

Richie cackles. “Omae wa mou shindeiru! Remember, Ruth, off the table is losing a turn! And now I will swoop in and secure my victory, with…” He grabs another dreidel from the tray and spins it. He lands on a ℷ. Richie jumps up from his seat on the floor. “Hell yes! Richie Lipschitz, the ultimate champion of TopTourney 2020! Take that, Ruth!”

Ruth slaps him on the ankle, stretching out over the worn-out carpet. “That’s only cause Pete didn’t play this year.” She groans, sliding her headgear off and placing it on the table. “I’m fucking starving. Can we eat?”

Pete traipses into the kitchen, yelling commands over his shoulder and tying on an apron with ‘Best Bubbe Ever’ printed on it. Ruth and Richie fan out, Richie shredding potatoes and Ruth searching through the overstuffed fridge to find the old jar of applesauce. Steph just stands in the middle of the kitchen, people swirling around her and scraps of potato peel flying past her into the garbage can. She shakes her head a bit to clear it, and retreats into the living room. Clearly they have some sort of thing going on.

Several minutes later, Pete emerges from the potato-fueled cloud with a plate of perfectly fried latkes. Steph perks up at the table. “The Lord giveth indeed,” Richie cracks as he pours a glass of grape juice. “Kiddush?” They sit around Pete’s cramped kitchen table, all their plates barely fitting. Conversation flows easy as they tear into the latkes. Ruth dumps a heap of sour cream on hers, and Steph swipes a finger through it and throws it at Pete. It splats on the lense of his glasses, dripping down slowly and plopping on his lap. The room goes silent. Pete slowly wipes off his glasses, picks up his cup of water, and splashes it in Steph’s face. Ruth starts giggling uncontrollably.

Later, they’re all gathered around the window of the living room. Pete strikes a match, lights the shamash, and hands it to Ruth. She starts singing the blessings over the candles as she slowly lights the first candle. She has a good voice, clear and genuine. Shame she’s never felt confident enough to really sing. When the candles are lit, Pete reaches out to take Steph’s hand. He shakily starts the Shehecheyanu, voice flickering like the flames of the menorah. Ruth joins in, and Richie follows suit, grabbing Pete and Ruth’s hand. Even when the blessing is done, they stand there watching the flames dance and waver. No one says anything for a while.

–

Pete waves goodbye from his window to Ruth, Richie, and Steph as they schlep boxes of leftovers out to Richie’s car. Steph shifts the box of sufganiyot over to one hand as she waves back with a hesitant grin. Ruth taps her on the shoulder. “Uh, Steph, we’re going to shul tomorrow for Shabbat services, and we’re gonna hang out at Richie’s after. Would you, like, like to come?”

She grimaces nervously, and Steph smiles. “Yeah, I think I’d really like that.”