#what if he tried fixing his teeth from an early age to avoid getting bullied in the future 😟

[rinnie-marylin]

This whole time we've been drawing tobey with braces, even though this mf canonically has a retainer so he technically doesn't need them .

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

You know that thing with the edgy bad boy who has a cigarette sticking out of his mouth, only it's been censored into a lollipop because geez Japan has entirely different opinions on children's TV to the West?

What if it was a beansprout. Like. You think Mister Edgyman is smoking but no, it's a literal beansprout because he's been bullied into eating healthily but that doesn't mean he can't be dark and edgy while he runs to his nearest objective wHAT DO YOU MEAN IT LOOKS CUTE? WHAT POKEMON? I KNOW IT HAS A LEAF ON IT BUT THAT DOESN'T MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A PANDA-

Or, alternatively, there was no bullying and they're just Like That. Munch munch. Wait, is that a whole bag sticking out of your pocket-

THIS SCREAMS FARMER DABI EVERYWHERE. SO HEAR ME OUT:

Bored Dabi pouting with his beansprout while resting his back on a tree, the leaves casting tiny shadows and points of light on his body. Him wearing a dark overall and a straw hat.

He peacefully rides on a horse in the late afternoon until someone tries to steal from him and no no, what the fuck those bitches think they're doing.

He swears like his life depends on it.

He doesn't suffer from movement sickness when his riding his horse by some weird miracle. Apparently he only gets sick if it's man-made and big enough to be a mortal trap made of metal.

He shoots fire from his finger guns but his aim is shitty, so what he does is try to mark the idiots. And then he calls his friends.

If stupid thieves are not troubling him, he likes to take naps beside the river, talk with his cows and chickens and go visit the man on the center of the town that repairs electronics.

Dabi is good at repairing normal stuff but he's at total lost when it comes to TVs, radios, fridges and that stuff. So Jin Bubaigawara is almost every week on his house repairing old stuff.

JIN LIKES TO IMITATE DABI AND HIS BEANSPROUT BUT DABI GETS ANGRY AKDHBDKD.

Jin also thinks the new boy in town, the Shigaraki Tomura kid that's from the city, is totally in love with that ridiculous beansprout.

Dabi calls it bullshit.

Jin says Dabi is almost blind anyway, so what would he know.

And that's how Jin leaves on his pick-up truck laughing while Dabi goes to talk with his cows.

There's this girl that lives down the road, Toga Himiko, that helps him with the vegetables and fruits. They go to sell those together on the market every Sunday. An old pal of both, a man called Giran, gave them those houses to live in and the money to start their farms, in exchange of a feed every month.

Toga lives with a man that's around Jin's age, Sako Atsuhiro. He likes to parent both Toga and Dabi and they let him because he's more of a peaceful uncle, doing the legal parts of their lives and leaving them to the rural work.

There's the lady that manages the tractor around, called miss Magne, and the local man who runs errands but wants to go to college on the city, Iguchi Shuichi aka Spinner.

And of course there's Shigaraki, that Dabi knows because the boy has delicate skin and it's always taking meds for his allergies. Dabi knows from his weeks of observing him from afar that Shigaraki is the stubborn type. He graduated from college and came to the fields to prove his father or whatever that he could live on his own.

Nah... It's not working.

So you can see Dabi smirking with the beansprout on his lips every time he gets close and rises his eyebrows to offer his help.

Shigaraki tells him to have some manners and eat the beansprout already. Dabi does so and then takes another from his pocket. Shigaraki gets annoyed and they start bickering and bantering like a married couple.

Oh boy but whenever Shigaraki tries to imitate Dabi with his beansprout, the ends up blushing a little. Dabi once caught Shigaraki doing that and felt like he was falling of his horse. Two blushing messes across the festival trying to avoid each other.

Some time after Dabi is watching the stars late at night with Tomura on the barn. He's feeling brave, so he takes one beansprout from his pocket and puts it on Tomura's hand. His hearth is beating from the touch of fingers with fingers and then Tomura, without even looking at him, takes the beansprout to his lips.

Dabi feels like Toga looks when she dreams out loud of secret balls and dancing in golden fields to the rhythm of flutes and violins.

One day, some dudes were picking a fight with Jin. Apparently they were the assholes who wanted to buy the town and build a city complex over there.

They were taller and bulkier, but Dabi did his best to fight them with Jin. One of the guys punched him in the face enough to almost broke down his teeth. He blacked out and woke up on a car. He searched for a beansprout but only found blood. He fainted again.

Later, on the hospital, he was told Tomura and Iguchi were the ones who found them in time to watch Dabi hit the ground, the bloody beansprout beside him.

Apparently Tomura told Iguchi to take Dabi and Jin to the hospital and he stayed behind. No one knows what Tomura did, but the guys disappeared from the town. Tomura got a broken leg and arm, but people rumored he walked down the main road with a sadistic expression afterwards.

Dabi got out the next day. Tomura went to pick him. He got Dabi's hat and the beansprout on his lips, smirking. When Dabi got close enough, he gave him the hat.

But it was Dabi who reach for the beansprout on Tomura's lip, took it and put it on his own lips, fixing his hat over his eyes because the sun was too shiny.

“To this day I don't know which movie you watch that gave you that ridiculous idea”

Dabi slept all the way back home and when he arrived, he invited Tomura in to help him with the meds and all of that.

Dabi cooked, Tomura fixed his fridge.

“It was not a movie.”

“Uh.”

What a situation. He had never watched Tomura sweating so much. His black shirt sticks to his chest and stomach and his jeans were dusty, faded, full of grease. Somehow, the past month Tomura has gotten bigger, with more muscle, his hair growing in length and going cotton white.

“It was not a movie. I have a delicate stomach, this helps me with it.”

Tomura, having finished the fridge, closes the door to find Dabi looking at him with a beer on his hand, blue eyes big and crystal, black hair sticking to his forehead. It's hot and humid on that house, and Dabi's shirt, cut short and transparent, doesn't help. Neither does the jeans he's wearing, but Tomura finds easy to breath and focus when he thinks about the bandages all over that body.

“That's a stupid reason.”

That's the only thing he can say. They laugh, Tomura drinks from his own beer, Dabi guides him to the bathroom for them to clean the cuts and replace the bandages.

It's silent between them, but the world outside comes alive with the sounds of bugs and animals and the wind over the trees and the grass.

At some point, Dabi falls asleep while Tomura is still working, so he needs to carry him to his bed.

And somehow, because Tomura is also tired and Dabi looks soft and his mind screams him to lay down, they end up cuddling 'til the early morning.

And if this was a fanfic, I would title it “The Secret of the Beansprout ”

The end.

...

...

OKAY SORRY FOR FALLING FOR THE SHIGADABI AGENDA BUT I GOT CARRIED WAY. BYE.

[shannygoatgruff]

My Brother’s Keeper

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Modern Ivar X Modern Hvitserk

Warning:  Dark story told from an emotionally distributed person’s POV with graphic and sadistic material including rape, terror, torture, kidnapping, drug use, slash, implied incest, necrophilia and insecurity. Heavy trigger warnings.  

Summary: Mama always said to be their brothers’ keeper. Now there is absolutely nothing these two won’t do for each other.  Boys will be boys...

A/N: So, I wrote this story about 10 years ago, under a different fandom.  With age and a more vivid imagination, there is so much more I want to do with it.  So, what did I decide to do?  A reboot!  

Chapter I

The amber light of the cigarette as I inhale, sends a flash of brightness across this dark room. As soon as I take in a healthy drag and feel the cool flavor of menthol opening my lungs, everything seems to have a spark of life. 

This room looks like all the others - small, dirty, and the only window in here is covered by a thick sheet of dust. I find myself wondering what this place looked like in its heyday before the demo crew came in and knocked down half the building. Did it have all of the latest amenities before the slum lord forgot that he had tenants? What kind of people lived here? The neighborhood’s changed so much, lately. 

Not that it matters much now, I guess.

This place is abandoned, has been forever judging from the size of the termite holes in the walls and floorboards where the wood has completely rotted through. It's a death trap if you don't watch your step. We spent enough time scoping out the layout in the daytime, we know exactly where we can and can't step. I know I could close my eyes right now and walk from here to the front door and avoid the hole in the floor covered by that threadbare rug.

I guess that's why we always choose places like this. They aren't so easy to escape from. I mean, if they actually manage to get away from us, they'll have one hell of a time actually making it to the outside without breaking their necks in the process. It's an unfair advantage, but it's a small price we pay to protect ourselves.

The muffled sound of whimpering makes me look over to the darkened corner by where the kitchen used to be. I can't really see what she's doing, but judging from the sound of the table leg scraping across the floor, I guess she's trying to get her hands free.

I hate that he ties them up so tight. The sound of them struggling always makes me feel sorry for them. What's even worse, is he insists on gagging them and leaving me here alone to watch them.

The least he could do is leave the gag off so they could talk to me. I know it isn’t a smart idea, especially since they could start screaming. But sometimes, when I know that he'll be gone for a while, I untie the gag so we can talk. I get bored in the dark alone and the sounds of their whimpering makes me feel weird. At least when I take the gag off, it seems to help them relax. I can always calm them down when we can have a two-way conversation. But, I can never get him to understand that.

They don't scream, usually. I don't really know why. I like to think it's because they know I don't really want to hurt them. I don't know. I can't really explain it. It's like, I don't want to cause anybody pain and knowing that someone got hurt because of something I did disturbs me. But on the same token, I love the power of fear. I love the look on their faces when they realize it's me. Really, who would ever suspect me of anything?

I don't know how I got like this. I wasn't one of those types you read about in the DSM-5 that labels sociopaths as displaying symptoms since early childhood. I didn't have a rough childhood. We had all kinds of love as kids. We had a big family, 5 boys, and our mama loved us. She made sure we looked out for each other. We protected each other. We defended each other. We loved each other.  

I wasn't abused as a child. Nobody touched me and I didn't have any early onset traumas to blame anything on. I've never had brain damage or ever been bullied before that I can remember. There's no explanation for it.

I once had this shrink tell me that was the scariest thing about it. There was nothing in my psychopathy to suggest I would turn out the way that I have. There’s just always been something in me that wasn’t quite right. According to her, that's what makes me a danger to society. 

I'm a whole lot different than him, that's for sure. He's the sick one out of all of us. Looking at him, you’d never know. I don't even ask anymore where he gets some of the ideas he comes up with. I think he's watched one too many scary movies and now he wants to play everything out in real life. He worries me some times because it's getting to the point where this isn't enough for him anymore. Every time we've got to do a little bit more, make the chase a little bit harder, punish them a little bit longer. It's like he's never satisfied now.  

I remember when we first started, it was our secret. It was pretty cut and dry. We'd see someone we wanted and we'd grab them. We'd have fun with them and drop them off in some remote area of town when we were done. Now, it's this big, elaborate game for him. He's into wooing them, getting them to come willingly and then when we get them in the car the fun begins. He's into the screaming and begging now and I honestly don't think any of them have walked away afterward in the past few months.

He's getting out of control, but what can I do about it? It's not like I can walk away from him or this life. I'm in too deep and truthfully I don't want to. I tried once. I tried to make a clean break, but the hunger got to be too much. I felt like I was going to crawl out of my own skin. My heart raced all the time, my hands shook, my mouth stayed juicy… I couldn't sleep or eat. I guess this is my addiction.

"If you don't break your wrist trying to untie yourself if you're free when he gets here, he'll do it for you." I feel like it's the least I could do. She should at least know that he's not really a person you want to fuck with. If he ties you up, when he comes back, your ass better still be tied up. It makes him crazy if they upset the scene that he has in his mind. “Besides, if he comes back here and finds out that you got your hands free, he's gonna be pissed. There’s no telling what he might do to you then."

I notice how quiet she is suddenly, but I can still hear her muffled cries. I almost feel sorry for her. Almost. But she has something I need so my sympathy only goes so far. Still, I feel like I should be doing something to try to make her stay here a little more enjoyable. I mean, she did ask to come. She wanted us to show her a good time, but this part isn't very fun though. I wish he would hurry up. 

I move over to the leg of the table that he's got her tied to and sit down next to her. "You smoke?" I notice the way she's trying to scramble away from me like I'm going to do something to her. I understand her reaction but really where does she think she's going to go? The binds are entirely too tight and I'm not tied up. Anywhere she can scramble too, I can, too.

If I felt up to it, I'd play along and show her that I'm in charge, but I’m really not that into it tonight. I just want to get this over with and go home. I'm tired. She put up much more of a fight than I thought she would. I hate it when I'm exhausted before we even get started.

I fold my legs beneath me and touch the end of the lit match to the wick of the candle. It really doesn't illuminate the room much, but at least it allows her to see my face and me hers. She really is pretty especially with the way the tears have stained her smudged face and her hair clings to her skin with sweat. Her teeth are so white against the soiled rag tied around her head to keep her quiet. She has the prettiest blue eyes, even if one is almost swollen shut. He didn't have to hit her so hard.

"You want a cigarette?" I hold the pack up to her face and watch as her eyes fix on me and not on the pack. "They're safe. I didn't put anything in them."

I try to offer a smile to lighten the mood, but she doesn't seem any more relaxed. "I'm gonna untie your gag, but you gotta cooperate, okay? If you scream, I'll cave your face in." I notice how she flinches when I talk to her. I hate threatening her, but I think it's only fair that she knows what's coming if she disobeys.

I reach over to her and put my hands behind her head. Her hair feels like silk under my fingers. Even after I loosen the tie I let my fingers curl around her locks for a few seconds longer to feel how soft they are. Once the gag hangs loosely around her neck, I sit back and smile at her. I don't really have anything to say at the moment, so I pack the box of cigarettes and select one for her enjoyment.

"Here ya go." I feel my own mouth open as I put the cigarette up to hers and my heart speeds up when I see her lips open and close around the filter. I pick up the candle and hold it close to her face and watch as the flame catches to the end of the butt. "That's better." I light my own cigarette with the candle before I place it back on the floor.

She looks like she's struggling to puff and keep the thin layer of smoke from getting into her eyes. Poor thing. I'm trying to be helpful, as I reach across and take the cigarette away from her mouth to giving her a moment to breathe in some of this moldy air.

"What are you gonna do to me?" This is the first time she’s spoken since we left the bar. While we were there I found her voice to be whiny and irritating, but now I like it. It's soft and vulnerable and it quivers with each word.

Hmm? What are we gonna do? He doesn't like to do the same thing two nights in a row, and we did so much last night. What is he planning for tonight? "I don't know. What would you like to do?"

The look she gives me amuses me. I love it when they're interactive. It’s like she’s enjoying this as much as I am. "I'd like to go home."

"I can ask if that can happen. But you have to be good." It’s better if she knows the rules, upfront. If she knows that if she pleases him, there’s a better chance of just living with the memories of tonight instead of not living at all – I think that puts the odds in her favor. See, I’m a nice guy like that.

Of course, you always get the ones that take that information and go crazy with it. Those are the ones that piss him off. Those are the ones that don't get to see the next day. Those are the ones we read about in the newspaper while we're sitting around at the breakfast table.

I place the cigarette back to her lips and she takes a deep breath. I love the way the plume of smoke dances around her face as she exhales. It seems to be working…she’s relaxing. "Why me?"

"Why not you?" No one is so special that we can't use them. That's why we pick the ones we do because they're special. "You're perfect for what we need."

"And what's that?" Her tears are falling faster as her fear is taking over.

"A fantasy woman." I can feel myself smirk as I hand her back the cigarette.

It’s something about seeing her pink tongue touch her bottom lip that ignites something in my belly and turns on a switch in my head. All of a sudden I don't feel like I'm sitting on the floor in this broken down, dirty room, instead, I'm running in a field of green grass, chasing fireflies with my brothers. I feel young, wild and free. I feel creative and imaginative.

I feel alive.

I don't know how much time passes before I hear him enter the room. All I know is I can't look at him. I can't meet his eyes.

"What the fuck happened?" I hear his voice from behind me and it takes everything I have to pull my wet hands from my face.

"I don't know." I can feel the cold stickiness left on my cheeks and the warm tears that run across them. I let my eyes focus on my red hands as the almost completely burnt out candle flickers.

I hear his footsteps moving closer to me. He's walking slowly, so I know he's not angry, but that's no excuse. His presence looms as he stands beside me, but then he runs his fingers through my hair. There's nothing I can do but turn to him and wrap my arms around his waist and cry against him.

"It is okay, Brother." I can feel his lips touch my scalp as he bends down to coo and stroke the back of my neck. Even though I can't see his face, I know he's looking at the scene on the floor. I know he sees the blood still dripping from where her face once was. He has to notice that her skirt has been pulled away and instead of the gag in her mouth, her panties are halfway down her throat.

I swear I don't know how she got like that.

I don't remember.

Clinging desperately to him, I try to bite back my sobs. "I don't understand why this keeps happening. I can't stop it, Ivar. I need help."

"No, Hvitserk. You don't need help, Big Brother,” He says looking down at me with a reassuring smile, gently wiping away my tears. “You just need me."

Next Chapter

Tag list: @geekandbooknerd @thelastemzy @the-jess-life @a-mess-of-fandoms @leilabeaux @cfmvirgo @gingerbread-the-indoor-tomcat @where-beauty-goes-to-die @amy8220 @justanothterlazzyperson @unmotivatedwritings @dangerousgiantalmondbat @b-j-d @youbloodymadgenius @waiting4inspiration @oddsnendsfanfics @alexandersenx @flowers-in-your-hayr​ @honestsycrets​

[poison-basil]

Detective Richard Grayson - Chapter 1

Summary: Gotham will always be scary, no matter how old you are.

Or the one where Dick is a civilian cop and Tim is the Red Hood.

The thing about being a cop in Gotham was that you never knew what was going to happen. One second you’re saving a cat from a tree, to being caught in a gun fight between some of Gotham’s finest criminals.

Dick knew from a young age that Gotham was dangerous, it was this city afterall, that took his parents.

After that, nothing could make him love this city for any of its beauty, but it was his city.

Growing up in the circus Dick never had a permanent place to call home, other than Haly’s, this is the only City he’d stayed in for longer than six months, though that wasn’t his decision.

After his parents deaths Dick was threw into Gotham’s foster care program. If you could call it that, it was more like a breeding ground for young criminals.

Most of the adults didn't care for the kids and there weren’t many families willing to take in children above the age of five.

Though Dick does remember Mister ‘Call me Bruce’ Wayne.

He told Dick about his own parents, how they were taken from him at a young age too. He mentioned that he would like to foster Dick, but that fell through.

According to his social worker at the time Mr Wayne was not eligible to Foster Dick, being in his early 20’s, single, male and having a questionable public image.

So Dick was passed around from family to family for years in Gotham, he saw what happens behind closed doors and saw how corrupt and uncaring the system was.

Nothing he said or reported was ever looked into. They brushed him off as though he didn’t matter.

Dick had looked forward to getting out of there.

During his time in care Dick made sure that he caught up academically with his peers quickly, learning fairly soon after arriving into the orphanage that kids were cruel and would mock and bully anyone different from them and you couldn’t get much different than being Dick Grayson, Circus kid to dead parents with Romani heritage.

There was one incident within the first month of Dick living in the Orphanage when another boy who was living there, Marty Jones, decided it would be a good idea to pick on the fresh meet.

Marty was a good foot taller than Dick at the time, when he puffed his chest and stood in front of Dick with his little possy behind him, it was intimidating, they all sniggered while Marty looked at him with an ugly toothy sneer.

The young thug spewed out slurs against Dick’s parents, then against how thick Dick was because he had never been to school and even about how he must of put on the moves for Mr Wayne to want to foster him, because why else would he want a thicko like Dick around.

The encounter hadn’t worked out like Marty had hoped, Dick bounce and flipped to avoid the slow sluggish punches that he threw. Marty had ended up on the floor when a punch had missed, his momentum carrying him forward.

Dick couldn’t help but laugh at the time.

Dick managed to push most of the bad to the back of his mind. He focused on his future and what he would do once he was out of the care system.

Dick wanted to help people and there was only one way that he could see himself doing that.

The GCPD.

He excelled through school, earning his high school diploma and making it into the police academy.

After graduating, Dick got a job in the GCPD.

He wanted to help out, be a body that young people in need to go to, be there for them, like they weren’t for him.

Dick loved his Job, even if it did come with difficulties.

__________

Hiding behind the car, Dick tried to peak over the hood to get a look at what was happening. Bullets whizzed past his head and Dick ducked back down, gritting his teeth in frustration.

This was bad.

So, so bad.

Fifteen minutes earlier Dick had been on his way to the coffee shop and now he was in the middle of a gun fight.

Sometimes Gotham really sucked ass.

Dick and his patrol partner were pinned, he couldn’t see away out of this without taking some risk and high chance of injury.

They’d called for backup when they first heard the gun fire, but it was gonna take some time for them to get there.

There was a pause in the shooting and Dick took a chance and peaked over the hood again.

This time there was no bullets flying past him, he sucked in a relieved breath.

Taking in a quick look around Dick saw a couple bodys on the floor, some goons taking cover being other vehicles and all to quickly one of the guys appeared from behind a van across the street.

In what felt like slow motion he watched as the man raised his gun, aimed and fired at him.

Dick’s world came back into focus as his body was slammed into the ground next to his partners feet. “What the --?” Dick’s buddy quickly reached down to steady him, her hand around his upper arm and lifted him, pulling him from the gravel.

Dick didn’t realise that he’d been holding his breath. He released it after getting to his knees.

Looking to the figure next to him he saw a man crouching and pulling a gun from his holster.

Dick gaped, mouth slightly parted as he stared at the man, he’d heard of him, this was the guy with a red domino and brown jacket, wanted vigilante who put down criminals with no remorse.

The Red Hood.

Fuck this was bad, Dick didn’t want an all out turf war to happen.

According to others that met him, it seem’d to happen a lot when Hood turned up.

Which was rather impressive for someone who only turned up a week ago.

Shots rang in his ears as Hood fired off a couple of rounds, Dick heard screams letting him know that they’d met their target.

Scrambling Dick quickly pulled the smaller man down next to him and came face to face with him, though his eyes were hidden by the Domino, Dick scowled down at him, his lips forming a tight line as the man in front of him gave no reaction.

He shook the smaller man,“What do you think you’re doing?” Dick couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone and it only grew as he saw the man across from him smirked.

“Saving you, obviously.”

“But why are you here?” Dick Huffed, “In broad daylight? I thought you guys were more of a night time only thing?”

“Justice never sleeps Detective, you know that. I heard gun fire while I was a couple blocks away, thought I would come check it out, good thing I did too, otherwise your brain would be becoming intimate with that wall.”

Hood pulls out of Dick’s hold and stands, he fires off seven rounds.

Dick hears the distinct sickening sound of bodies hitting the floor and dread filled his stomach.

He starts at the feeling of a hand coming to rest of his shoulder, “Don’t worry Officer Grayson, they aren’t dead… they just won’t be getting up any time soon.” Dick is slightly unsettled by the grin Hood was wearing.

“I --” Dick started again, “Thank you. Not - not for injuring those men, but you know, for saving me.” Dick stood and patted Hood on the arm. There was something warm and wet on his hand as he pulled away.

Blood covered his hand, Dick just caught the wince on Hood’s face and watched as he also put his hand to the same spot and coming away with blood on his own hand, “Damn.”

“You were hit?”

Hood laughed and put away his gun, adjusting his jacket and pushing his hair back. “Tis merely a flesh wound.” Dick couldn’t help laugh at that.

“Do you need any help?”

“What, you gonna fraternize with with a vigilante because I got grazed?” Hood tilted his head. “Don’t worry Officer, I will get it fixed but I will be needing that glove.” His hand darted out and grabbed the fingers to Dick’s gloves and pulled it from his hand.

Dick stood in shock. What?

“Can’t have you running a DNA test on this, would be dangerous.” Hood gave him a two fingered salute and turned making his way toward the alley.

Dick was going to follow him, make sure that he was ok, maybe get his glove back. Before he could make two steps to the alley, his partner’s hand grabbed him. “You can’t go after him Grayson, we gotta get this lot tied up.” Dick sighed, she was right, she was always right.

While tying up the bad guys Dick couldn’t help but think about Hood. Dick could tell that he was younger than him, his voice and facial features help with that.

Hood was also shorter than him, but his body looked to be in great shape, with quite a fine ass..

Shaking his head Dick got on with his Job.

__________

“Hello?” “Hey Dick, it’s Tim, Tim Drake, do you remember me?” “Timmy, of course I remember you, how could I forget? It’s so good to hear from you, how you doing buddy?”

Dick sat on his sofa, bowl of cereal hand, phone in the other and a massive smile on his face. He hadn’t heard from Tim for a few years, he was a pretty little thing, young, Dick had known him from his last day at the circus, a little boy who was in need of a hug and a friend.

When Dick was still in the care of Mr Wayne for a couple of weeks Timmy had been at one of the Galas Wayne held, Janet and Jack Drake re-introduced Tim to him.

He was so little, quiet and scared, but lit up like a bulb when Dick said he remembered him.

“Yeah, sorry about that, i’ve been… out of town for a while.” The pause made Dick sit a little straighter. Setting the bowl in his lap Dick picked up the spoon.

“You ok there Tim?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine, just wanted to talk to you, see how you were doing.”

Dick smiled and munched on some cereal. “Everything’s fine here, you know, as fine as someone can be, being a cop in Gotham.” Tim laughs a little and it warms Dick to the core. It was always hard to get him to laugh.

“Dick, never change.” Dick laughed. “I was wondering about something though?” “Yeah? Whazat?” Dick said around a mouth of food. “I was wondering if you’d like to meet up. Ya know, go for coffee, I haven’t seen you for a while, thought we could catch up, face to face.”

“Yes!” Dick nearly upended the bowl out of his, “Yes, I would love that, how about this weekend - the Coffee shop by Wayne Tower?”

Dick could hear Tim hum, “Sounds good to me Dick, I shall see you Saturday.”

Before Dick could get in another word Tim had hung up, Dick wasn’t too upset by that, he had a date this Saturday.

Getting up from the sofa and going to the kitchen, Dick put down the bowl. Opening his laptop on the counter he did a quick search on Tim Drake.

From what he found, there was a M.I.A post about Tim disappearing overseas, no one knew what had happened to him, they thought that maybe he was away on a dig, like his parents used to go on.

That thought had Dick’s stomach in knots. A few years back it was reported that Janet and Jack were kidnapped and killed. Tim hadn’t gone on that trip with them and was staying with Mr Wayne.

It made Dick think about the possibility that that could of happened to Tim while he was away.

There would of be nothing he could of done about it. He might not have known Tim was dead.

Taking the closest stool, Dick sat down, he needed to distract himself.

Opening some more articles Dick got to reading. Little Timmy has been busy.

There was nothing solid talking about what Tim had been up to, he’ll ask when he sees him.

Though there were some recent pictures taken of the young Drake heir and damn he was pretty.

He looked all grown up now. All the baby fat that used to be in his face was gone, leaving a beautifully delicate yet strong jaw.

His eyes were as beautiful as he remembered, there was no way that he could forget them, the deep penetrating gaze, even as a child it was as though he knew something you didn’t.

Tim never looked as comfortable in front the camera as he did behind.  

It was a cute thing that Dick had noticed when they were younger, but it appears that nothing has changed.

Dick got up and headed to his room, it was time to go to work.

__________

Dick’s knee bounced uneasily. Tim said that he’d be here at one, it was now one o’ five.

Dick sighed and slouched more in his seat. Gripping his leg to stop stop the movement.

The door jingle making Dick look towards the door. Tim was there, hair and clothes all swept ascue from the wind.

Dick got up from his chair, nearly tripping over in his excitement and waved Tim over.

His smile grew when Tim noticed him.

Tim had his own small smile, eyes bright. He looked good and had a confident air about him, that was new.

It looked good on him, really good.

As soon as Tim was within reach Dick pulled him into a hug. The squeak Tim made was absolutely adorable and it made Dick squeeze him harder.

Tim laughed and Dick felt him pat his back. “Come on Dick let go.” Tim said, he smelt of coffee and ink. It was comforting and warm.

Pulling away Dick gripped Tim’s forearms. Dick took a moment to take in Tim, just look at him, taking in every tiny detail that he could.

“Let me get you a coffee, you still like it black right? Like your soul.” Dick said, laughing, Tim grinned.

Taking his seat Tim waved him away, “Go on, I’ll wait for you here.”

“I will be right back.”

Dick got the drinks as quickly as possible. Making his way back over, Dick saw that Tim had his phone out. Typical.

Placing the drinks down Dick got into his seat, “Hey, sorry about that Timmy, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too Dick.” Tim said, putting his phone down and taking his drink.

“So how’s it going, what’ve you been doing?”

“It’s been good, I took a couple years to,” Tim looked away and coughed into his fist, “find myself.”

“I heard that you’ve taken over Drake Industries.” Dick said and took a sip of his coffee.

Tim nodded, “Uh huh, that's kept me busy for the last couple of months, mostly been doing things behind the scenes, trying to make something of the company, what was left of it anyways. As you have probably seen, i’ve had some success.” Tim smiled up at him, “And you have become Detective Richard Grayson, since the last time I heard about you.”

Dick couldn’t keep the grin off this face if he tried, “You checking up on me?”

“Of course, you are one of the most important people in my life.” He takes a sip and tilts his head, confused. “You know that, right?”

“Well I -” Dick swallows. “It’s just, you kinda dropped off the face of the Earth.” Dick said, turning to look out the window. “I thought maybe, you’d… forgot... about me, or something.” Dick takes a drink to keep himself from saying more.

“Oh Dick!” Tim said as he reached across and held out his hand. “It was nothing against you, nothing. I didn’t have a way to contact you, or anyone else and when I did, you know, lots of stuff was happening...”

Dick quickly reached over and took Tim’s offered palm and gripped his soft small hand in his.

“I get it, I just missed you Timmy.” Dick said, his eyes soft and warm. “Sorry if it sounded like I was blaming you. I wasn’t blaming you, not at all, or maybe I was? I don’t think I was. Was I blaming you?”

“God Dick, I missed you too.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, regarding one another.

Soft smiles on both of their faces, hands clasped together as Dick gently rubbed his thumb over Tim’s roughened knuckles. That was something Dick would think about later, but for now he would overlook it.

“I’m glad that you called.” Dick said.

Tim reached out with his other hand, “Me to.” He lifted his cup to take a sip and Dick noticed him wince.

“You ok?” “Yeah, Yeah I’m fine, bumped into a cupboard this morning, just twinges.” Tim said, “Nothing to worry about.”

Something was off.

Something about Tim wasn’t adding up, Dick just didn’t know what.

“Nothing, right.” Dick finished his drink. “So, tell me more about the you now. I’ve read some articles, but they aren’t the same as hearing it from you.”

“Well, I still like photography, though I don’t get much time to do that anymore. I’m now the CEO of Drake industries, which is mostly boring paperwork, but I have invested in some good causes which is interesting.”

“Good causes?”

“Mostly helping out unfortunate families within Gotham. Helping out kids who need it most, all that jazz.”

Dick nodded, pride swelled in his chest.

This young man before him was working to make things better.

He has privileges that few others have in Gotham and was using those means to help others.

There weren’t many Gothamites that would do that, except the Waynes.

“That sounds good Timmy, real good.” Dick said and Tim beamed at the praise, like it was the first time someone had done so. Dick couldn’t let that go on, how could no one let Tim know that he was doing a good job?

“Thank you Richard.” Tim said, his voice soft. Dick felt like he was going to melt. That was a new feeling, regarding Tim.

It felt good, really good.

“I like the way you say my name. Full name, I mean.” Dick said, voice gravely in a way that surprised himself.

Tim’s face heated, his ears going bright red.

It made Dick want to bite them.

Dick suddenly backed up, his chair screeching along the tile.

Dick let go of Tim’s hand as though it burned.

Standing from his chair, Dick looked around and saw others looking over at them.

Dick coughed into his fist, embarrassed by his actions.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Tim was like a brother to him. A baby brother.

Having these thoughts were totally inappropriate, people shouldn’t have these thoughts about their brothers.

Dick was confident that Tim was beautiful, both physically and mentally. But to think about him sexually, that was a nono.

“Sorry Tim, I gotta go.” Dick said and he saw Tim’s face go carefully blank, that was not good.

Getting his jacket from the back of the chair Dick put it on. “I’m sorry Tim,” Reaching over he pats Tim on the shoulder. “I just-” Dick chokes on his words. “I’ve just remembered I have somewhere to be.”

Dick knows it sounds fake.

It is fake.

He could see Tim didn’t buy it for a second either. Fuck, this was bad, he was messing this up, it had barely been twenty minutes since Tim had sat down.

Tim had just let him know some amazing news.

He was stomping all over that.

Dick felt like a bad person.

Right now he is a bad person.

Zipping his jacket he hurried out of cafe.

Damn.

__________

Sitting in his room later that day Dick sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands.

Logically he knew that Tim wasn’t his brother. He just thought of Tim like a brother.

They hadn’t lived together or had the same parental figure at the same time.

There was nothing other than himself that made him think that they were brothers. They didn’t do anything together that you couldn’t just do with any male friend.

Why did he think of Tim like a brother?

Dick didn’t even know if Tim thought of him like a brother.

What did Tim think of him?

Friend? Brother? Something else?

Dick ran a frustrated hand through his hair, tugging at the nots.

He should of stayed in the cafe, talked more with Tim instead of just leaving him there and running away.

Ruining the happiness of news.

He’d tried to call Tim when he got home, but all he got was voice mail. Which meant Tim was either avoiding him or he was just unlucky with timing, Dick was hoping it was the timing.

He’d messed up royally. Tim had only just reached out to him after not being in contact for years and now Dick’s mind and body thought it was a great time to have a sexual crisis.

Dick could always tell when men were attractive, but he was confident in sexuality, was being the key word.

Before this moment Dick had thought he was strictly into women.

Though, he didn’t think he was no longer into women now. Just adding men to the mix. Or maybe it was just Tim.

That was possible.

Tim made him want to mess him up, no man had invoked those feelings in him before.

Dick flopped back onto the bed and sighed.

He would have to make it up to him. Somehow.

God, how could he just leave him.

Tim would internalise this, get it stuck in his giant amazing brain that it was his own fault somehow.

Tim probably wouldn’t reach out to him again. Dick didn’t blame him.

He wants to curl up and forget about today, but everytime Dick closed his eyes he could see Tim’s blank face and cold eyes looking up at him as he was leaving.

Dick groaned and got up, it was his turn to patrol tonight.

__________

Dick was talking with Candy when he heard a scream from a few alleys over. Pushing his uneaten donut into her hand Dick ran towards the screams.

As he entered the alley there was a blur of red and black above him.

Dick held back and pulled his gun, quietly making his way down the dark alley, barely anything was visible just light coming from windows of homes.

Dick lifted his gun when he heard running and crying, a woman came stumbling out of the shadow, a bruise on her cheek.

He held up his badge and nodded to the opening of the alley, the woman nodded and quickly made her way out. His patrol partner would be out there.

Dick walks further in.

He heard the crunch of bone as he came to end of the alley. Turning the corner he saw Red Robin punching a man into the ground. One fist grabbing the man's shirt the other raised to punch him again.

“Stop!” Dick exclaimed. Red Robin’s fist hovered just above the pulp on a man’s face. With a sneer he let him go and the purp fell to the ground.

“Well, if it isn’t Officer Grayson.” Red Robin dusted off his tights and stood straight.

“Red Robin, it’s good to see you. Haven't seen you around in last week, thought something bad had happened to you.” Dick said, he put away his gun and got out his cuffs.

Red was watching him as he made his way to the man on the floor. “What can I say, been having some family problems lately.”

“Family problems?”

“Oh yeah, big time.” Red leaned on the dank wall, folding his arms as Dick sat the man up.

Dick hummed as he put the cuffs on the unconscious man. “This have anything to do with the Red Hood?”

Red was silent and Dick found his unnatural stillness creepy.

Well if he was going to keep quite that gave him a little bit of time. Dick called in the assault and let them know where they could pick up the purp.

“You ok over there Red?” Dick said.

“Yeah, I’m fine, how did you hear about Hood?”

“Well he kinda bulldozed me out of the way of a bullet. So not so much hearing about him, than feeling him all over.” Dick stood and brushed the dirt from his knees. “But other than that just rumors going around the precinct.”

“He saved your ass?” Red smirked down at him. It irked Dick that Red was taller than him.

When he was robin Dick had towered over the boy, now Dick had to look up. He was kind of glad Hood was shorter than him. With all these huge, hulking vigilantes in Gotham a guy could feel inadequate.

“Well, yeah, but you’re avoiding the question Red.”

Red shrugged, “Yeah, something to do with that guy, he ain’t making it easy.”

“You bat’s never do.”

“You got that right Grayson. Big ol’ Bats is having a hard time with this one.”

“Because of the guns thing?” Dick says and makes his way over to Red. It was well known that Batman had a vendetta against gum.

“Because of the guns and other things.” Red Smirks, “But I can’t share all our secrets with ya now sweets, a man likes to keep a little mystery about himself.”

Dick laughs and feels better than he has in hours, “This Hood guy dangerous?”

“We’re all dangerous, Officer.” Red’s smirk shows teeth as he leans into Dick’s space.

He takes a step back, “I know that, but is he a danger to civilians?”

Dick sees Red’s mouth open to answer but the voice comes from above and behind him.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself Detective?”

Thank you for reading!  I am thinking about making this a multi chapter work, but I would like to know what the people response to it is first! <3 Thank you @iphoenixrising for helping and inspiring me in this work! love you!

[gaypasta]

do you want fries with that?

Chapter 6/? Read on Ao3 Chapter Directory

Stan waited patiently outside the Synagogue for his friends. It was early evening and the sky was greying with the night. Temple was over and he was standing outside the backdoor, bike leaning against him as he waited for his friends, like he did every Sunday. He had pulled an oversized grey jumper that his Gran had knitted for him last Hanukkah over his dress-clothes he wore to temple. His Father never liked him going out in them, but he hadn’t got them dirty yet so Stan didn’t really see an issue.

He wasn’t impatient, Stan just waited - looking up at the stars and trying to recall as many constellations as he could, wondering what it would be like to see the Earth from that distance. He could hear the familiar sounds of laughter and talking begin to float in from the distance, he climbed onto his bike so he could join the army of his friends without making them stop.

Bill was leading, shouting something to Mike who was to his right, who was laughing and looking at Eddie, who was scowling at both of them and pedalling with such force that Stan was afraid he might go over the handlebars. His eyes caught Richie’s who waved furiously at him, before wobbling and almost knocking over Ben, who had Beverly sitting on his handlebars.

Richie fixed his glasses before shouting something at Ben, who went bright red - it made Bev give Richie the finger. Stan didn’t really want to know what Richie had said, but it was more than likely a dig about Ben’s crush on Beverly. Stan kicked his bike stand up before slowly pedalling to join the mass of bikes which were throwing greetings to him as they passed by.

Stan joined at the end, keeping his distance from Richie who appeared to think he was playing bumper cars, trying to swerve into people. He swerved into Bill and Bill pushed him away, causing Richie to cycle face-first into a tree. Everyone laughed at him while he rubbed his nose and gave Bill the finger. Stan laughed a bit harder than he probably should have, Richie gave him the finger too. Richie jumped back on his bike and rode beside Stan, pulling faces at him every chance he could.

They slowed down as they turned into the almost hidden entrance to the quarry, going slowly to avoid crashing into trees or hedges, they were basically walking through a forest after all. the dirt was skitting up onto Eddie’s brand new jeans- which he proceeded to complain about for what seemed like hours.

“Eddie, I’m nuh-not carrying you again,” Bill announced, making Eddie’s face go red as he sped up and stomped down the hill.

They all reminisced over Bill carrying Eddie through the quarry. It was last year, when Eddie broke his arm and he was in a bulky cast. His shoes were slipping on the ice and after almost falling about six times, Bill had rolled his eyes and lifted Eddie over his shoulder. Eddie garbled out a string of swears and begged to be put down, Bill ignored his requests and held his legs to stop him kicking.  When Bill had put Eddie down at their previously favourite spot beside the river, Eddie’s face was beetroot red and he was repeatedly telling Richie to fuck off every time Richie opened his mouth.

They walked their bikes to their usual clearing and let them drop to the ground. Stan kicked his stand up and stood his bike up, because he wasn’t a monster.  This clearing had become their new usual spot, it was overlooking the river and was so densely packed with trees and wild bushes, that it was almost impossible to see into it from the outside. Bev had stumbled across it one day while taking a stroll with Ben, it had been since christened, ‘The Marsh’, which Ben had suggested, since Beverly was the one who found it. The only visible opening was between two aging oak trees, which led to a cliff which looked over a particularly deep part of the river. The ‘cliff’ was maybe only ten feet tall, but it was tall enough to dive off in the summer. Every summer Bill would carve away at the dirt to try to make a ladder to climb back up and every summer it wouldn’t work and whoever took the chance with Bill’s landscaping skills would fall back into the water.

Bill began discussing with Mike whether they should light the fire pit, Mike had said it was cold, so yeah - but it would be difficult to find dry enough wood in this weather. Mike unfolded the picnic blanket he always brought from the basket in his bike and laid it beside the soon to be blazing fire pit.

Stan and Eddie made a beeline for the blanket and sat down, neither wanting to sit on the dirty ground. Bev and Richie were standing by the oak trees, lighting up a pair of cigarettes and arguing about something or other. Probably movies, Richie had been on a Die Hard craze, and Beverly always argued that it wasn’t a Christmas movie. Richie always argued back, ‘ Yes it is! It’s set at Christmas, therefore it’s a Christmas movie, Bev!’

Stan didn’t think it was a Christmas movie, but he’d never seen it so he refused to get involved, no matter how many times Beverly asked him to back her up.

He thinks he sees Bill and Mike creeping off out of the Marsh over the hedge that Richie had accidentally cycled into a few weeks ago, which had ended up being the easiest point of entry and exit. Probably to get wood for the fire, Mike was brilliant at all the outdoors stuff, Stan was too, since he was in the boy scouts - but that didn’t mean he liked it, so he always sat back while Bill followed Mike’s instructions.

Even with his jumper on, it was pretty cold. He probably should’ve brought a scarf like Eddie had. But then again, Eddie was bundled up, looking like he was going off on an Antarctic expedition. Stan can hardly fault Eddie, considering he was sitting tying his shoelace with ease while Stan’s teeth were almost clattering from the cold. He gave a quick glance over to Richie, who was wearing shorts and a long sleeved-shirt with a dog eating an apple on it. He doubted Richie even sensed the cold at all.

Ben was showing Eddie his mixtapes, Eddie was carefully scanning each and every song title and commenting on them. Stan was vaguely paying attention too, but this wasn’t really his style of music so he didn’t have much of an opinion on the songs Ben had picked for Beverly’s mixtape but he nodded and told Ben they looked great anyway. Eddie was interrupted from talking to Ben about Duran Duran by Richie shouting for him.

“Hey, Eddie, get over here I have something really cool to show you!”

“Richie, I swear to God if you show me your belly button lint again I will end you.”

Richie scoffed, “No, I swear! Come here quick, before it’s gone.”

“If it’s a bug I’m not coming over.”

“No, it’s my boner, Eddie, come give it a tickle!”

Eddie sighed a swear under his breath and got up, moving around Bill and Mike who had just re-entered the Marsh with hands full of almost-dry moss and sticks. Mike moved with Bill to set up the fire, Beverly offering them her lighter. Stan watched as Mike’s expert hands crafted a bed of moss, building the sticks on top of it, like a Native American teepee sitting on a hill.

“Richie, what the fuck, get off!” Eddie screeched, causing everyone’s heads to snap to the scene of Richie trying to push Eddie into the river, while Eddie was clawing at Richie’s arms and grabbing onto his shirt to stop himself falling.

“Richie, s-stop, it’s c-cold out.” Bill had scolded, but his face looked anything but scolding. He was stifling a laugh and tried to hide his face from Eddie, who was looking around in panic, eyes pleading for help.

Richie laughs around his cigarette as he managed to release himself from Eddie’s grip and Eddie let out an animalistic yell before plummeting into the water. Bill sighed as he tenderly tried to inch his way down into the river to give Eddie a hand up.

“Richie, he’s guh-guh-gonna kill you.”

“You can only hope, young one.” Richie’s eyes fell on Stan, who was sitting on his own as Ben and Mike went to get more sticks for the fire, which now was needed to be burning bright and hot to stop Eddie getting hypothermia. Richie marched over, flicking his half-smoked cigarette off to the side before lying beside Stan, so close that his only slightly knotted hair had splayed out on his neatly ironed black slacks.

“Did you see that?”

Stan looked down to Richie, who was looking up at him, waiting for an answer. “You throwing Eddie into a freezing cold river? Yes, Richie, I saw. We all saw and we all agree that you’re a dick.”

“Hey! That’s not true, right Bev?”

Bev shook her head, “It was kind of a dick move.”

“Well, Bill thought it was funny. He’s the kind of friend I need in my life, someone who will encourage me, not berate me for my personality. I can’t help it if I’m a dick! It’s who I am, and you, as my friends, should accept that.”

Stan rolled his eyes as he softly gave Richie a slap to the head. “I don’t think we need to accept bullying someone the size of an eight-year-old as part of a personality quirk.”

Richie scoffed, “He was asking for it.”

“By doing what? Sitting quietly and minding his own business?”

“Exactly!”

Stan scoffed in response, his eyes caught a soaking wet Eddie being lead through the bushes back into the Marsh by Bill, Mike and Ben. He looked as if he was being walked to his deathbed by three reapers, his lips were almost blue and he was shaking profusely. Stan ushered himself away from the fire, making a space for Eddie, who sat beside him with a plop. Eddie was soaking the blanket, not that anyone really took notice. Water dripped off his eyelashes and fell down his face, he shook his hair with his hands to dry to dislodge as much water as he could.

“Richie you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Awww, Eddie don’t be so grumpy. You know you love me.”

“No. Fuck off, I’m mad at you. I’m gonna catch hypothermia and die and it will be all your fault.”

“You know, sitting in wet clothes is gonna make you sicker.” Eddie’s face paled, “You should probably strip.”

“Richie leave him alone, you’re freaking him out! Look at his face, he looks like he’s about to faint.” Beverly began petting over Eddie, trying to reassure him that he wasn’t going to get sick.

“Actually, Richie’s kind of right.” Stan piped up, Beverly shot him a glare, as if he was lying. “You should probably get into some dry clothes, the wet ones will just make you colder.” Eddie nodded, knowing Stan wouldn’t lie, taking off his scarf, which had appeared to double in weight by the sound it made when he dropped it onto a rock beside him. Beverly helped him unbutton his giant coat, his fingers were shaking too much to even try to do it himself.

It wasn’t long before he had began to pull off his t-shirt, which was hidden under four other layers of clothing. Bill had shrugged off his flannel shirt from underneath his jacket and gave it to Bev, who helped Eddie button it up. Mike donated his denim jacket, and much to Eddie’s mortification, Bev had slipped off the leggings she was wearing under her skirt and let Eddie wrangle his wet legs into the skin-hugging fabric.

Richie had donated his glasses, since he was already wearing the bare minimum. Eddie smacked his glasses out of his hands and no one helped Richie look for them. It took him five minutes and they were covered in mud.

After about ten minutes of everyone fussing over Eddie, colour began to flow back into his cheeks and he stopped shivering. It wasn’t long before he was back to the world of the living. Bill was still fretting over him, acting like a mother hen.

“Richie, did you b-b-bring cocoa or tea or a-anything in your thermo today?” Bill asked while Richie was rubbing the dirt off his glasses with the apple on his shirt. Stan winced at the sight of a giant smudge of mud spread on his previously clean shirt.

“Nah, we had nothing in the house today, sorry kid.”

“Wait, so you didn’t bring anything?!” Eddie complained, glaring at Richie.

“You always bring the fuh-fuh-food on a Sunday, Ruh-Richie.”

Richie raised his hands defensively after sliding his mostly clean glasses onto his face, “All I had in the fridge was butter and raw onions, so if you all want to go back to mine and raid the luxuries of the Tozier refrigerator, then be my guest.”

Bill sighed, exchanging a look of disappointment with Eddie before digging into his pocket and procuring a crumpled $5 bill. “Here, go and buh-buy something, h-hot if you can. Bring Stuh-Stan.”

Stan nodded as he glanced at his watch, “It’s late, I should probably get going now anyway.”

Bill shrugged, with a small grin playing on his face. “It’s late, who know what kuh-kuh-kind of trouble Richie cuh-could get into? You should go with h-him to the store at least.”

Stan’s face deadpanned. “So I’m babysitting Richie? Because I don’t do that enough at work?”

Richie jumped up and took the crumpled note from Bill’s hand and began pulling at Stan’s arm, “C’mon, Dad told us to go, Stan, get off your ass.”

Stan gave Bill a look that could kill, before getting up and giving Richie a small shove towards their bikes. Bill just smiled back at Stan, “Th-thanks guys! See you at school, Stan.”

Stan waved his hands in farewell to his friends, some he would see tomorrow morning in school, some he wouldn’t see until tomorrow evening, at the same location.

Stan walked his bike out of the dense trees and back onto the suburban roads of Derry town, Richie talking excitedly in his ear about what he was going to buy.

“You’re not going to get a pineapple upside-down cake at eight o’clock on a Sunday night, Richie. Everywhere is closed.”

Richie frowned as he pedalled down the main street, “So we’re gonna have to go to the twenty-four hour?” He scrunched his face up. “That place sucks though, the owner is such a creep - did you know he made a pass on Beverly last week?”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, right - we were cutting class - don’t give me that look it was only Bio - anyway, we were cutting class and we went to buy some smokes -”

Richie began retelling the tale, right up until their bikes skidded to a halt outside said creepy-man’s store, Richie hopped off to walk in, looking back when he realized Stan hadn’t shifted.

“I’m not going in.”

“He’s not gonna make a pass on you. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Stan shook his head. “Not happening.”

Richie rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically as he marched into the store. He came out barely two minutes later with a paper bag full of sugary snacks, probably. Richie tossed the bag into the basket in the front of Stan’s bike and lifted his own bike from the pavement.

Stan was just about to cycle off before Richie’s voice made him halt. “Shit, I still have your Yogi Bear at my house. I just looked at the empty space on the back of your head and realised I forgot to bring it to you before temple or whatever you call it.”

“You’re not even trying to get it right, are you?” “Nope. We’ll go get it on the way there.”

Stan shrugged, “Okay,  as long as it doesn’t take you an hour to find it, Mom’s pretty annoyed at me for not coming home last night.”

Richie stuck his tongue out and began pedalling down the orange-lit roads. Trees seemed to fly past as they pedalled down to Richie’s house, which wasn’t that much of a diversion - it was maybe an extra five minutes onto their journey.

It wasn’t long until Stan was stood inside Richie’s bedroom while Richie looked through the drawer in his bedside locker.

Richie’s room was actually clean. Like, not just tidy, but clean. His mirror had even been polished. Stan stood in awe as he inspected the floor, that he could see! All of Richie’s comics had been neatly stacked on his desk, and his trashcan had been emptied and his closet, oh his closet was closed. It wasn’t spilling out clothes, you could actually close the door. Richie noticed Stan looking around the room in awe.

“Yeah, Eddie offered to clean it.”

“Offered?” Stan was doubtful.

“In exchange for a blowjob. You’d be surprised what people would do for one from me, you know.” “No, I don’t know.”

“Do you want to find out, then?” Richie winked at Stan, fluttering his eyelashes from behind his glasses.

“Have you found it yet?” Stan sighed.

Richie nodded and threw the round hat at Stan, who caught it in one hand. “Yeah, I was gonna use it as a frisbee, but I thought It would work better as a jerk-off sock.”

“Shut the fuck up. Does your Mom have hairpins? Dad already thinks I’ve lost this, so if I came home without it again he’d probably lecture me on the importance of keeping track of my belongings.”  

“Oh, Mom loved the cake, by the way. She ate nearly half of it on her own today.” Richie smiled, “She went to the liquor store and only brought home one case of beer, so it must’ve been out of this world.” Richie ruffled Stan’s hair in thanks, and Stan batted his hand away out of habit, but he was smiling.

“Hairpins?”

Richie nodded enthusiastically, “I will fetch them for you, my dearest master. Do not strain yourself! I will rub your feet for you too.” Richie bounced off out of the room and into what Stan assumed, was his mother’s room. Stan sat on the bed and waited for Richie to return, softly tracing the edge of his yarmulke as he looked around the room. He had spent quite a lot of time in Richie’s room this weekend, it was starting to feel familiar, like he was meant to be here. Stan felt comfortable in Richie’s room, even comfortable talking to Richie himself. The conversation didn’t feel forced tonight, it was light, topics flowed easily and swiftly through their words and Stan felt pretty happy listening to Richie’s stories tonight.

Richie came parading through the door, carrying a palm-sized silver tin, which rattled when he walked. “What did you think of that voice? It’s a new one I’m trying out, so be kind.”

Stan took the tray off Richie in a nod of thanks and opened it to a dozen or so bobby pins. “It’s definitely not your best, but it has potential, especially for Bill.”

“Yeah, for when Bill’s being super bossy,” Richie started attempting to imitate Bill, “D-do that Richie, do this. Don’t puh-pull my pants down again! Puh-please stop being so hot, you’re muh-making me develop a fuh-fever.”

Stan snorted as he placed a triad of pins into his mouth, as he set upon beginning to pin the yarmulke into this hair. “That wasn’t very good.” He commented out of the side of his mouth.

Richie didn’t respond, he was too busy staring at the bobby pins which were delicately placed between Stan’s lips. He was probably grossed out that Stan had put them in his mouth, but it wasn’t technically in his mouth, Stan was just holding them with his lips.

Stan sat in concentration as he attempted to open the pins enough to slide it into his hair, but it was near impossible. It kept slipping out of his thumb just as he was about to clip it in, he let out a sound of frustration, which made Richie jump.

“Jesus Christ, chill out. Here, I’ll put it in there’s no need to turn into the Terminator.”

Richie took the bobby pins out of Stan’s mouth a little forcefully, accidentally brushing his hand against his lips. He stood up and told Stan to spin around on the bed, so his back was facing Richie.

Richie pinned Stan’s yarmulke into his curls, only stabbing him in the scalp once or twice. Stan couldn’t see how it looked, but it felt like it was in the right place, so he didn’t comment. Besides, he’d be taking it off in less than an hour when he would be going to bed, so it didn’t really matter if it was perfect. Stan could feel the yarmulke pinned securely on the back of his head, yet he could still feel Richie’s fingers going through his curls and fiddling with certain strands of hair. Perhaps he was fixing Stan’s hair. So Stan stayed put for another few minutes, while Richie played with Stan’s hair in an almost trance-like fashion before they both agreed it was time to move out.

Out of the corner of Stan’s eye when he was leaving the house, following Richie, he noticed his half-eaten cake on the kitchen counter. He smiled to himself and left the house, the cold wind biting his face as he walked towards his bike. “I’ll walk you home.”

Stan looked at him quizzically. “Why?”

Richie looked offended, “Because I’m a gentleman, Stan.”

Stan had no real reason to retort, it was Richie’s own time he was wasting, so he murmured a soft ‘Okay’ and began cycling home.

They were laughing at a story Richie was telling about Bill falling flat on his face in Gym the other week, blood pouring out of his nose as he swore at the ground. Stan was glad Richie didn’t try to swerve into him because he doubted that he would be able to steer away in time to avoid a collision.

They talked and laughed together underneath the orange glow of the mostly functioning streetlights, hair being thrown backwards by the cool wind. Stan could feel the wind penetrate the small holes in between each stitch of his jumper. It felt refreshing.

Stan pulled up at his house five minutes later, and gave Richie the bag of food from his basket, wondering how he was going to cycle back to the Marsh one-handed. He parked his Bike by the letterbox and made his way to the front door, the porch light had made Stan almost glow through Richie’s glasses and just as Stan had begun to turn the door handle, Richie had yelled out, without really meaning to.

“Stan!”

Stan blinked, head shooting back to Richie. “What?”

Richie looked like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing and eyes wide. Stan wondered why he would shout if he had nothing to say. But he did, Richie in fact, had a lot to say, he just wasn’t sure how to put them into words, so he did the best that he could.

“You’re my best friend.” Richie scrunched his eyes up as soon as he said it. That was the best that he could do.

Stan blinked. Feeling doubt ripple in his stomach. “No, I thought Bill was your best friend.” “Well, he is but… you’re my best-best friend. Like if I had to rank all of you, which I do every time someone crosses me - just to let you know, for the next time you don’t laugh at my jokes -  you’d be number one. Bill would be number two, Beverly was number three, but after that dirty look earlier, she’s being demoted to number four so… congrats to Mike, I guess.”

Stan let his hand fall off the front door and he stood on his porch, looking at Richie. “What led you to that… conclusion?”

Richie’s face fell, he tried to hide it but Stan noticed it, “I mean, it’s cool if I’m not in your top three, that’s fine. It’s not a big deal.”

Stan brushed a stray curl out of his eyes, “No, I just mean, why?”

Richie tilted his head in confusion, “Why?”

“Yeah.”

Richie leaned back on his bike and took a deep breath and let a long whistle out, “Well, if you want me to list everything you’ve ever done or said that bumped you up that list I can. But it would take like fuckin’ twenty years and it’s a school night so…”

Stan nodded, a lump was in his throat and he couldn’t quite make it go away.

“But uh… I guess it’s just as simple as you’re a pretty cool guy. Well not cool. Definitely not cool. But, you’re a good friend and I like you. I like you being my friend. Because we’re friends.”

Stan couldn’t help the smile that snuck up onto his face, and he couldn’t quite help the bubbling feeling in his stomach. “Yeah, I think you’re my best friend too.”

Richie coughed and hid a small smile. “Good.”

They stayed like that for a few moments longer, Stan almost feeling dizzy and Richie awkwardly scuffing his shoes against the pavement, swatting at mosquitos every time the tried to invade his personal space.

Stan couldn’t quite feel the cold as harsh as he could earlier and he began wishing he didn’t have to come home. He has a best friend, which is a pretty new development in his life, which is probably why his stomach feels so strange. It felt the same way it had when he had his first kiss with Lucy Braxton, which Stan supposed meant he was really happy to have proper best friend.

“Well um…” Richie had started, holding the paper bag tight on his lap, he must’ve really wanted to keep that food safe, Stan didn’t think he needed to hold it that tight. “The sexual tension here is too much.... so, if you want a booty call you know where I’ll be.”

Richie waved with one hand, as he fumbled his way down the street, swaying dangerously and almost knocking over the neighbour’s trash cans. Stan waved back, before quickly moving through the house and up to his perfectly kept bedroom.

When he got into bed, all he could think about was Richie.

But, to the embarrassment of Stan the next morning, it seemed that Richie stayed on his mind all night, even in his dreams.