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itfandomsecretsanta · 6 years

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Richie Tozier's Mistletoe Fiasco (Hanzier)

for @finnsjack

from @stnbrough (pastelstanuris)

The snow fell gently in front of Richie’s eyes as he skidded through the snow, clutching something in his hand and trying his best to see through the icy haze. Typical to him, rather than wearing clothes that would suit the weather, the lack of a scarf, coat and hat made his teeth chatter and left his face flushed. A warm orange glow in the distance caused a more satisfying heat to flow through his body in anticipation of seeing who was behind the door of the house his eyes were locked on.

Pure snow was tarnished by Richie’s clumsy steps, and the crunch of his boots in the white blanket was a symbol of the perfect winter.

Knock.

The item was clenched harder in his fist as the door swung open, leaving Richie faced with a warm smile and a welcoming aura.

“Hey, Richie.”

“Hi, Mike.” Richie croaked, having to clear his throat at least ten times to spit out only two words.

“You coming in, or are you just gonna stand there?” He chuckled. He stepped aside and waited for Richie to tap the snow off of his boots and walk into the Hanlon household.

Richie walked cautiously through the hallway, eyes darting around nervously. “Are your mom and dad home?”

“Is this the setup for a joke?”

“No! I just. I wanted to-” He was uncharacteristically at a loss for words, which left Mike confused. “This was supposed to be smooth.”

He frowned at Richie’s nervous nature. “What was?”

Without thinking, he thrust the item in front of Mike’s face, holding it there for a few seconds. Once he realised it was in the wrong position, he lifted it up so it was above their heads.

It happened fast, so Mike didn’t get the chance to see it. But when he did - oh.

Mistletoe.

Although he hadn’t gained a reaction yet, Richie was slipping back into his usual persona. “You gonna leave me hanging?” He winked.

Mike’s lips moved wordlessly for a second. “I…”

The mistletoe was crumbling in Richie’s hand.

“Should we go watch a movie?” Mike blurted out.

The mistletoe had now been dropped to the floor.

“Sure.”

As Mike smiled nervously and made his way to the living room, Richie made sure to crush the plant under his boot as he followed.

♡

“It’s because you freaked him out, genius. Who wants a plant thrust in their face for no reason, a kissing plant, when you think you’re just friends?”

The losers, aside from Beverly and Mike (they were going on their weekly trip to the bakery to pick up some cupcakes) were at the quarry, bikes at their feet.

“That was the whole point! For him to realise we’re not just friends!” Richie protested, kicking the dirt and causing dust to swirl around the immediate environment.

Stan and Eddie flinched at the oncoming filth, but still managed to provide an answer. “Maybe you should get him a present rather than shoving foliage in his face?” Stan suggested. Ben, Eddie and Bill nodded vigorously.

He sighed. “Fine. I’ll do some extra chores this week.”

“Guh-G-Good luck.”

♡

Sure, Richie had the money after two weeks of saving, but now he actually had to buy Mike something. Something that was sincere enough to make him fall in love with him, but not expensive enough that he had to sell his kidneys.

Wonderful.

♡

Stan

“Stanley, Stan. What’s a good Christmas present? You’d know.”

“I literally wouldn’t.”

A pause.

A sigh.

“I’m Jewish.”

♡

Bill

“Well, I’ve nuh-huh-ever bought a present for s-someone I liked before-” Richie rolled his eyes when he saw his gaze drift over to Stan frowning at some tinsel in the corner, “-but e-e-everyone likes my druh-awings? You might h-have a hidden talent.”

“Hey, y’know, if you’re looking for something you could give Stan-”

“I’m n-not taking that Menorah sweater f-f-from you.”

“Fuck.”

♡

Eddie

“Well he doesn’t have a well-stocked medicine cabinet, I’ve checked. Cold medicine never hurt anyone.”

“Thanks for the fucking useless advice, Eds.”

“Beep fucking beep, Rich.”

♡

Beverly

As Beverly walked into Richie’s bedroom, she scoffed at the scene.

He was contorted into an awkward position, a bow nestled in his messy hair, attempting to fit into a box.

“Richie, you can’t be the present.”

A muffled scream came from her friend.

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

Beverly sighed and walked slowly over to Richie, pulling the bow from his hair (prompting an “ow!”), and saying “I don’t know, maybe talk to him, like a human being?”

He was currently the epitome of grumpiness and frustration. “Sure, I can do that,” he responded sarcastically, “just let me turn into Stan, and be an actual functioning person. Wait, fuck that, now isn’t the time to compliment him.”

Beverly snorted and pushed him to the ground from his crouching position. “Not everyone is like you, Rich. Mike doesn’t want grand gestures or expensive presents, he wants honesty. Look, the guys told me about the whole present thing, and they’re useless, so don’t listen to them. It’s about what Mike wants, not what they think he wants.”

While rubbing his ass after it landed so abruptly on the ground, he nodded absentmindedly. “Sure.” He still had one very romantic option left.

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

“Yes, Bev, your hair looks very nice. I gotta go.”

“Richie!-”

♡

Ben

“I could write him a poem?”

“Haystack, you’re my saviour. Be sure not to make it too good though, okay? And this is about Mike. Mike. Not Beverly.”

“I think I know the difference between the two, Richie.”

“You keep telling yourself that, loverboy.”

♡

The presents were all scattered across Richie’s bedroom floor. None of them were right.

First of all, the painting was terrible. He hadn’t been in an art class for years, he could barely draw stick figures. Still, he knew Mike’s favourite flowers were daffodils, so he tried to go all Van Gogh and draw some in a vase. They looked more like deformed creatures from outer space.

Stan was no help, so that meant he was one present down.

He couldn’t actually believe he’d listened to Eddie - he’d bought a huge bottle of cough syrup, and wrapped it with gold ribbon. Mike never got sick, what was he thinking?

Ben’s present was nice, sure, but it was clearly his handwriting, and it was clearly about the wrong gender, and the wrong person entirely.

It was December 23rd, and he’d arranged for he and Mike to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve. With the stress of present-buying, he hadn’t actually been able to hang out with him in a while. Richie was either busy mowing someone’s lawn, or Mike had chores at the farm.

It was cheesy, but he missed him so much his heart ached. He missed Mike’s soft laugh when he managed to spit out a decent joke, and the way their hands brushed against each other when Mike walked him to his door, the blinding grin that always replaced a goodbye which left Richie weak in the knees.

If he could bottle those thoughts, that would be the perfect present.

♡

December 24th

There was no mistletoe in his hand this time as he approached the house. That was half because he had an armful of clumsily wrapped presents, and half because he was expecting the outcome to be negative.

Mike still managed to take his breath away when he opened the door, despite him seeing his face almost every day.

“Presents!” Richie yelled. Maybe if he was loud enough, Mike wouldn’t realise what an idiot he was being.

“Presents,” Mike repeated with an amused smile.

“Do you wanna go first?” Richie asked. If Mike only bought him, like, a cactus or something, maybe he’d feel better about his gifts.

Mike handed over the small parcel without hesitation. The box was purple (his favourite colour), and the item was nestled in pink tissue paper.

It was a mixtape.

RICHIE was written in block letters with a sharpie.

“It’s not much, but I know how much, you love your music, and I’ve listened to a few of your records before, so-” Mike was the one babbling now.

“No, it’s perfect.” He whispered. He could feel his throat getting tight and tears forming in his eyes. “I feel so bad.”

Richie probably shouldn’t have been focusing on this in particular, but Mike’s Christmas sweater was the perfect shade of blue. Blue always looked the best on him. He was moving towards him, getting so close their hands were touching. Only Richie’s armful of presents were stopping them from going any further. “Why?”

Seeing that they were close to the couch, Richie sprang back from the warmth of Mike’s presence and dumped his gifts on there before slumping into the cushions defeatedly.

“You can open them if you want,” he mumbled. “But they’re awful. I got you cough medicine, a painting that looks like a five year old did it, and a poem. I gave Ben like ten dollars to write it, and he mentioned red hair! Red hair! I tried to make myself the present but Bev said that was stupid, and, and-” Mike didn’t interrupt, just sat in the armchair across from him and listened.

Richie shifted awkwardly and tried to clear his head.

“When I was wrapping the stupid presents - nearly maimed myself with scissors, by the way - I realised none of them were good enough. And I thought that was just because I don’t know you well enough, or I needed to spend more money. But Bev was right, you don’t want presents, you just want honesty. So.” He breathed out slowly. “I have the most embarrassingly huge crush on you. One time I actually gave Bill twenty dollars to stay at home when we were supposed to go to the movies together so I could be alone with you. Every time someone asks you out I feel ill. I asked Stan, Bill, Ben and Eddie to give me ideas for presents so I didn’t disappoint you. And you just made me a mix tape and I cried. Shit.”

Mike was quiet for a while. “I have another present for you, actually.”

Oh. So he was just going to ignore it, like last time. “Sure,” Richie sniffed. “Hit me with it.”

It was another box, but blue this time.

As he opened it with shaky hands, he saw that nestled inside it was-

Mistletoe.

Mike took it out of the box and held it over their heads.

Richie couldn’t breathe. Surely this wasn’t happening. He couldn’t bring himself to move.

“You gonna leave me hanging?” Mike grinned.

As the snowflakes drifted to the ground for the 5th time that week in Derry, Richie Tozier wrapped his arms around Mike Hanlon’s neck and kissed him like his life depended on it. As the taller boy’s hands settled on his waist, the mistletoe was left to fall to the ground.

Maybe someone else could find some use for it - but they didn’t need excuses to kiss anymore.

#event: 2017 #type: fic #rating: none #pairing: mike/richie #submission

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