Byler one shots

33

This isn't quite byler but i found it sweet and heartwarming. There's a little bit of  byler fluff but its mainly Richie.

Richie was hands-and-knees searching for his other black high-top sneaker. He had worn them the day before on his stag night out to the arcade, but between that night to that current afternoon, Mike had been told to clean their room. Richie didn’t trust that Mike actually cleaned it and instead just shoved everything under the bed or in the closet– that’s where Mike always was anyway, Richie told him.

“Mike!” He called, pulling out from under his bed, trying not to whack his head on the bed frame again. “Where the fuck did you put my shoes, Mike?”

“He’s in the basement.” Nancy said, poking her head into the room. “He can’t hear you, Richie.”

“Ugh, that fucking bastard. Moving my shit and then disappearing.” Richie grumbled as he got to his feet.

“Language.” Nancy said with mock-sternness. “Clean it up when mom and dad are home; you know Dad is uptight about that.”

“Fuck Ted.” Richie said, shrugging. Nancy rolled her eyes before stepping aside and letting Richie leave the room and head for the basement. “Mike!”

Richie swung around the stair banister and took swift steps towards the basement. He took the stairs two at a time, ducking his head and trying to catch a glimpse of his brother, trying to catch him before he tried to avoid him again. Mike wasn’t the only person down there– Mike’s gaggle of friends were sitting around the table, their weird dolls-and-board game crap set up in front of them. From his stop on the stairs, Richie couldn’t tell who was winning, but Mike was going off about something.

He had an English accent– one that was annoyingly better than the one Richie had been trying to copy from some Caine guy his dad watched in movies. Mike was standing from the table, reading from his weird binder, the one he constantly was adding pages and diagrams to. Will, Dustin, and Lucas were hanging on every word he said– definitely not about to tell him to shut up and keep his mouth shut. Beep Beep, Richie.

“–the town thanks you for your valiant service, gentlemen!” Mike said, grabbing Will’s hand and getting to him stand. “Peace has been restored and the prince is returned to his worried suitors!” Mike pulled Will close to him, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. Will returned the touch, wrapping his arms around Mike’s waist as he grinned, laughing at the outrageous accent narrating the story. “The party is invited to a medal and knighting ceremony! The prince is forever grateful!” Mike continues, waving his free arm out to his friends who erupted in cheers at their accomplishments- fake accomplishments, Richie reminded himself.

The party stood around the table as Mike pretended to knight each of them, tapping his pencil on their shoulders. Richie watched silently, even stepping up farther on the stairs to avoid their line of sight. He had never seen Mike actually run a campaign with his friends. He had always heard the muffled shouting and cheering, but always assumed it was them being obnoxious, not genuinely having a good time because of Mike’s planning and apparent new ability to story-tell.

How was it that Mike was able to ramble and scream and yell and wave his hands around like an idiot and be applauded? How come he was able to wrap his arms around his friends and touch them? Every time Richie tried to tell jokes or be close with his friends, they pushed him away and told him to calm down. Sure, Richie wasn’t calm half the time, but he wasn’t trying to be malicious; he was excited. Being with his friends made him think of a thousand and one things to do with them before they had to wait until the next weekend or the next time they were all free. Richie loved his friends but apparently not as much as he loved them– or Mike’s friends loved his brother.