Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Mike and Richie heard that their mother had passed away they were devastated. Their mother, Karen Tozier, was a kind and caring woman that loved her children with her entire heart, going so far as to divorce their father, a nasty man named Ted Wheeler, when he threatened to kick out his twin sons for being gay. After the divorce Karen switched back to her maiden name, Richie and Nancy following in her footsteps. Mike, on the other hand, kept his fathers last name, claiming it was like a big middle finger to the old fart. So when they got the phone call about their mother, who had passed in her sleep, they were heartbroken.

Both boys showed up to her funeral, stepping foot into Hawkins for the first time in years. After the burial, they were approached by Karen's attorney, a man named Jackson, who told them that they had the certificate to their childhood home. Both Mike and Richie agreed to sell the house, after moving everything out. Which brings us to our current situation.

Mike and Richie were in the attic of the old Tozier house, going through the boxes deciding on what to keep and what not to keep. Richie was currently elbows deep in a box labelled Richie's Toys, pulling out all of his old action figurines dolls. Mike was on the other side of the attic, pushing some of the boxes that he had no intent on looking through out of the way when he noticed one that was peculiarly labelled. He grabbed onto the brown edges of cardboard and dragged it out into the open, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. Mike swiped some of it off of the top of the box and got a better view of the writing.

Richard and Michael's Wedding Plans it said. Mike pursed his lips together, refusing to allow the laugh that was climbing its way up his throat out. Sitting down in crisscross, he cut away the tape that was keeping it closed and dug in.

"What have ya got there Mikey?" Richie asked, abandoning the mess of toys around his feet and joining his twin at the box.

"Don't call me that," Mike responded immediately. "What I have is a funny named box with terrible childhood writings and drawings inside."

"Let me see one," Richie said, holding out his hand for a paper. Mike complied to his wish and handed him a small stack of papers filled to the brim with words. Richie pulled the papers close to his face and squinted at the tiny letters.

"This looks like my handwriting, I think I can read it," Richie mumbled.

Mike rolled his eyes, "Of course you can read it, your penmanship has always been terrible." Richie swatted Mike's arm with his stack of papers before continuing what he was doing. Mike shook his head at his brother and looked deeper into the box, pulling out drawings of characters he recognized as himself and his brother. He cringed slightly at the horribly drawn stick figures. He and Richie had never been one to draw very well, Mike had always left that up to Will.

Speaking of Will, Mike was starting to miss his boyfriend. The brunet, unfortunately, couldn't come with Mike to their old home town. Work had called him at the last minute and he couldn't reschedule. Mike was fine with this, he himself understood, but that didn't stop him from missing the small green-eyed beauty.

"Mike, it's turned into your writing and I can't read your chicken scratch," Richie interrupted Mike's thoughts, waving the paper in front of his face. Mike snatched the papers from Richie's hand and glared at him.

"My writing is not chicken scratch, besides it's easier to read that your writing," Mike looked over the paper in his hands, not entirely reading but skimming over the words. He grew more and more confused the longer he stared at the paper.

"What the hell is this even supposed to mean?"

"Right?" Richie exclaimed, reaching over Mike to grab other papers. "All mine said was shit about flowers, and color choices like, why the fuck would I care?"

"Cause they're plans about our wedding," Richie froze. The fuck was Mike talking about?

"Our what now?" Richie stared at Mike, his already enlarged eyes widening behind his glasses. Mike flipped up one of the flaps on the box and pointed at the label. Richie blinked once. Twice. Three times. His brain slowly realizing what the words meant, and just as slowly, memories began to fill his head.

All at once it clicked for Richie. He threw his head back and laughed out into the open air, shaking hard from the euphoria that had filled his brain. Mike flinched back, confused and concerned about why Richie had just suddenly lost it.

"Uh, Richie? Are you ok?"

"Oh my god Mike," Richie gasped through bouts of laughter.

"What? What's wrong?" Panic began to set in Mike's bones, fearing that Richie really had lost his mind. Richie shook his head, trying to calm himself down but ultimately failing as more laughter rolled itself through his system.

After a few minutes of hysteria, and choking on the dust in the room, Richie had calmed down enough to explain to Mike.

"I remembered what all this was," Richie said, chuckling here and there. "When we were younger, like toddler type size, we were really fucking close, closer than we are today, like, joined at the hip close. We did everything together."

Mike nodded along with the words, "Yeah, I remember that. What was it that tore us apart that one summer?"

"Don't know, not important. Anyway, we were so close that we did everything together, right? Slept, played, cleaned, ate, everything, and we always assumed that we would do everything together in the future, including both of our marriages. So, what we did was make out a full plan on what it would be like. We planned a double wedding, and we had every last little detail planned out. What day it would be, who was invited, where it was gonna be, what flowers we were gonna use, what flavor of cake, every detail," Richie explained. As Richie droned on, the memories started coming back to Mike. He could clearly remember now, sitting next to Richie at the dining table, papers and crayons spread out around them, writing all the information down and dreaming about their future conjoined wedding together.

A smile slipped it's way onto Mike's face, "Oh yeah, I remember now. Dad used to yell at us for getting over excited about it."

"Dad used to yell at us about getting over excited about anything," Richie joked, causing a bark of a laugh to come from Mike.

Mike shook his head, "Too bad all of this will never come true."

"Yeah, we both know you're too much of a wimp to propose to your boyfriend," Richie chuckled, starting to throw everything back into the box. The smile quickly fell off Mike's face, he turned to glare at his spitting image.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Richie looked at Mike over his outstretched arm, "You heard me, you don't have the guts to pop the question to Will."

"Uh, no. You're not brave enough to propose," Mike snarked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Um, if I remember correctly, and I probably am, I started dating way before you did."

"Yeah, but Eddie was the one who asked you out cause you were too chicken," Mike pointed out.

Richie shook his head, placing his hands behind him and leaning back, "Doesn't matter, cause I'm gonna propose to Eddie before you do to Will."

"No you're not," Mike pouted. Richie's eyes locked onto Mike, a grin slowly spread itself on his face.

"Is that a bet I hear Micycle?"

"Don't call me that!" Mike snapped.

Richie rolled his eyes, "Is that a bet I hear?"

"No, It's not. I'm not gonna bet with you over who's gonna propose first," Mike stood abruptly and walked away from Richie.

"So then you admit that your too chicken to ask Will?"

"What? No!" Mike spun on his heal and glared at Richie.

"Well, that's what I'm hearing."

"But it's not what I'm saying."

"Doesn't matter," Richie stood up and lazed over to Mike. "If your too much of a wuss for a bet, then your too much of a wuss to ask the question."

Mike stared at Richie, running his eyes up and down his brother. After a few seconds of silence he sighed in defeat, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

"What's the bet exactly?" If possible, Richie's shit eating grin grew wider.

"Whoever proposes to their boyfriend first is the winner."

"And what happens to the loser?"

"They pay for the others' honeymoon."

Mike lulled over the bet in his mind. If he won he'd get to marry Will and make Richie pay for the honeymoon, but if he lost he had to pay for Richie's honeymoon, and he was certain Richie would not make it a cheap one.

"Fine," he finally said, "I accept your bet."

Richie stuck out his hand, "Shake on it."

Mike stared at the hand before spitting into his and presenting it to his brother, "Spit swear."

Richie smirked before spitting into his own hand and grabbing Mikes, "Spit Swear."

With the shake of the hands the bet was in place, and the clock began ticking for the two brothers' race to begin.