Work Text:
Christmas at the Kaspbrak house is middling to poor. It involves a comically small tree, with even smaller decorations. It also involves a microwaveable Christmas dinner, with no pudding, no wreath decorates the front door, acting as an immediate thou shalt not enter sign, barely any presents litter under the tree. The house remains the same colour that it does the entire year round, shades of greige and occasionally the most unappealing shades of green.
After the Christmas dinner, which involves chewy turkey, potatoes that are not only rock hard but cold on the inside, alongside gravy that can only be equated to salted water and vegetables….which are honestly the best part of the dinner, and vegetables should definitely not be the best part of Christmas dinner. But after the excruciating dinner, consumed in front of the TV, while a Christmas radio channel plays quietly in the background. Sonia tends to fall asleep. And that’s when Eddie’s real Christmas starts.
He pulls on a coat and boots, and makes sure that his watch is working so he can get home at a safe time. He knows that Sonia will be asleep for a good few hours, the Kaspbrak Christmas dinner ends by 2pm, and Sonia will be asleep or at least in and out of sleep until 7pm. Which gives him more than enough time for a second, incredibly better, Christmas at the Tozier’s house.
The Tozier’s have a wreath on their door. It’s green, it has green leaves which create the base, and small fake red cherries, along with pinecones decorate the outside of the wreath. At the top of the wreath sits a big red bow. Eddie pulls his gloves off his hands, raises the knocker on the door and slams it down three solid times. The front yard boasts a leaning snowman with a crooked carrot nose, lovingly constructed by Richie, whose artistic skills leave much to be desired.
When Maggie opens the door it’s like the first time Eddie ever met her over again.
He’s five and being picked up from school by his mother. He’s in trouble for something, the particulars he can’t recall, he can only recall his mother telling him to ‘just wait until we get home’. He can only recall the aching feeling of his mother dragging him down the road, pressing bruises into the pale skin of his wrists. At some point he loses his mothers grasp, and in a crowd of parents he falls and like any five year old he begins to cry. A woman scoops him off the floor, Eddie’s eyes are closed and blurry from tears but he assumes that it’s his mother. That she’ll stop being angry now, hold him, kiss him, tell him it’ll be okay but instead, it’s not his mother at all.
It’s a woman. She’s taller than Eddie’s mother, slimmer too. Her hair is down and dark, and falls in curls down to her shoulders, and some trails down her back. She’s talking but Eddie doesn’t really hear her. He looks around and sees that his mother is still actively walking away, not even checking to see if Eddie’s following, not even aware that the boy has slipped from her grasp. The woman seemed to follow Eddie’s gaze and notice Eddie’s mother walking away from the scene of her crime against her child. The woman sat with Eddie on a bench until he calmed down and then walked him home.
When Eddie got home that night, his mother told him that she’d known that Eddie had stopped following, but decided that Eddie should find his own way home, at five years old.
It was really then that Eddie decided that he wanted Maggie Tozier to be his mother.
Maggie smiles at him when she opens the door and steps to one side to welcome him in. “Happy Christmas.” She tells him. Now it is. Eddie thinks. “Richie and his dad are in the living room, Richie held off on opening presents until you got here.” She tells Eddie and takes his coat once Eddie shrugs it off. Eddie pulls his gloves off and puts them into the coat pockets and nods and smiles at Maggie.
The whole house smells like gingerbread. It’s warm. The fireplace is blazing, Eddie’s house is a fucking igloo compared to the Tozier’s house. Eddie has three presents in his backpack. One for Maggie, one for Went and one for Richie. He knows he doesn’t have to buy them anything. But he can’t spend Christmas there for no detriment to him. And the Tozier’s deserve it. Stockings hang from the mantle, one for each family member, and an extra one Richie had hung for Eddie with his name scrawled in Sharpie on the cuff.
Richie’s sprawled out on the couch in an obnoxious Christmas sweater with a knitted Rudolph on the front. If Eddie had to guess he’d say that his nose probably lights up, maybe even sings at the press of a button. Richie sits up on the couch when he sees Eddie in the doorway. “Hey. You made it.” He says, as if they haven’t done this every year since Eddie was nine or ten, now being seventeen. But it’s an act they do, the whole family does. As if on cue, Went speaks.
“Hi Eddie.” He says. “Sonia didn’t feel like coming?” He asks. He knows. Eddie knows. Richie knows. Maggie knows. But it’s an act. It makes Eddie feel slightly less guilty.
He shrugs. “Not really.” He smiles and Went smiles back before continuing to read his newspaper. Eddie pulls the presents out of his bag and places them neatly under the tree, careful to not jostle any presents already placed. A real Christmas tree stands proudly in one corner of the room, its branches heavy with an eclectic mix of ornaments. Some were faded from age—hand-me-downs from Richie’s grandparents— or originals, stick ornaments Richie had made in elementary school still hung among the glitter baubles, and strands of tinsel sparkled under the multicolored string lights.
It’s pretty. It’s well done.
“I’m assuming you didn’t decorate the tree this year." Eddie says to Richie.
Richie lets out a scoff. “I most certainly did, how else do you explain the handy work at the top of the tree?” Eddie’s gaze follows Richie’s words to see the angel on top of the tree leaning drunkenly to one side and kept in place by what looks like duct tape. The angel looks like she’s begging to be put out of her misery in all honesty.
Maggie comes into the living room, she places a plate of cookies onto the coffee table, along with some cups of hot chocolate. “That angel was Went’s grandmother’s.” She says. “Passed down to his parents, then to us, when we die it goes to Richie.” She explains. “And so on and so forth.” She explains. “Eat the cookies.” She says, she's talking generally but almost specifically to Eddie, as she knows he’ll show the most hesitance. “Dinner will be ready soon, Went can you come and help please?” She asks, but her husband is already out of his seat before she can even finish the question and follows her into the kitchen.
Eddie doesn’t eat cookies much at home. But at the Tozier’s he does. His mother consistently likes to remind him of how bad sweets are for him, and salty things, anything not on the Sonia approved list. But Sonia eats those things, it’s an observation Eddie’s had for years. His mother can enjoy things that Eddie can’t, Sonia seems immune to guilt or shame, and all the bad things that supposedly come with eating cookies and cakes. Eddie picks a cookie up off the plate and takes a bite. All is forgotten.
Richie kicks his legs up onto the couch and rests his sock clad feet in Eddie’s lap. Eddie makes a face of hyperbolic grimace but makes no move to kick Richie away or move him at all. Richie stretches out his arms and reaches for a present under the tree and hands it to Eddie. “It’s not time yet.” Eddie says.
“I want you to open it now.” Richie says. It’s wrapped pretty bad in Eddie’s opinion. It’s a soft material inside, and the wrapping paper is ceased to the point you can see little white lines breaking through the red paper. It’s clear it’s been wrapped and unwrapped numerous times. There’s a big red bow on the front of it too, as if to cover up the god awful wrapping. Eddie smiles a little.
He pulls the wrapping paper off, to be met with a Christmas jumper. One just as obnoxious as Richie’s. “This is yours.” Eddie says. “This is your jumper.” He says and Richie nods. He pulls it out of the packaging. “You gave me a second hand jumper.” Eddie states.
“Cmon it’s Christmas themed.” Richie teases.
“Do you have a pair of Samurai swords handy because you’ll have to kill me to get me into-“ Eddie starts but then cuts himself off when he sees the look on Richie’s face. Eddie is known to be the master of the big round doe eyes when he really wants to get his way, but Richie is the silent killer, who only uses the look when he really really wants something, Richie’s doe eyed look is only worsened by his glasses, his pupils look like entire planets behind the frames. And apparently Eddie wearing the god awful jumper is what Richie really wants.
“Fine, I'll take it back.” Richie says, his tone isn’t entirely outwardly sad. But it’s not entirely joking either. Richie reaches for the jumper.
Eddie pulls it back towards himself, almost protective. “No im going to wear it.” Eddie says and before Richie can even protest, Eddie pulls it over his head. It is pretty cozy all in all. The big round eyes disappear and Richie’s face goes back to normal.
Dinner is always a chaotic affair when Eddie goes over to the Tozier’s. Maggie always makes too much food, and always tries to send Eddie home with extra, which is unfortunately not possible because it would create maternal suspicion. When Eddie was younger, he’d be glad to take the leftovers, as he could probably eat them before he even got home, but now it’s too much of a risk.
“I’m really fine Mrs. Tozier.” Eddie says with a smile as Maggie offers him more food. She’s been Mrs Tozier Eddie’s entire life and will likely remain Mrs Tozier for Eddie’s remaining time alive.
“Maggie is fine.” She responds the way she always does. Maybe one day Eddie will break out of the habit, eventually. “You really should eat some more.” She says. “I know you’re scrappy enough to kick Richie’s ass but you’re still small.” She says. Eddie laughs gently.
“Thanks a lot.” Richie says with his mouth full.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Maggie says.
Eddie helps Maggie clear the dishes afterwards. It’s his non verbal way of thanking her for this. For everything. All of it. Everything he could never ever put into words. He’d have to create a whole new dictionary to describe how grateful he is for Maggie Tozier and her infinite kindness. But he can’t do that, so instead he just turns to her and says.
“The dinner was great…Maggie.” He says, correcting himself mentally before saying the right thing. Maggie nods in response. “I’m glad you liked it.” She says.
It’s their nonverbal version of:
Thank you.
And
You’re welcome.
The house settles into a quiet hum after the plates are cleared and it’s time for presents. Eddie fiddles with the end of the sleeves of the Christmas sweater as presents are separated out. Richie got him the Christmas sweater, Maggie got him a special edition of one of Eddie’s favourite books (The Secret Garden) and Went simply gives him a a wad of cash. He knows Eddie’s saving up for a car.
Eddie gives Went a set of ties, mostly because he’d heard him complaining about how he never had any. He gives Maggie a set of earrings, ones that Richie helped him pick out from a second-hand store. And he gives Richie, probably his favourite gift this far, a copy of the debut album of ‘The Doors’ on vinyl signed by two of the members. Eddie had found it when he went to New York to visit one of his aunts in the summer. He found a record store near Washington square park, the store only sold incredibly niche and special edition CD’s and vinyls, Eddie wants to take Richie there one day. Eddie barely knew any of the bands that they had CD’s of there, but he’s sure Richie would know.
The present gets him a tackle hug from Richie.
After presents are over, it’s movie time. Always something old-timey and black and white, followed by Die Hard.
Eddie’s head rests against Richie’s shoulder towards the end of It's A Wonderful Life, and by half way through Die Hard, moments before John McClane’s Yippee Ki-Yay motherfucker Eddie’s asleep.
“Make sure you wake him up in time.” Maggie says to Richie gently. “So he’s not late getting home.”
Richie nods. “I will.” And he does. As the credits start to roll Richie slowly painfully removes the arm her very casually slung over Eddie’s shoulders (he used that trick where you pretend to yawn and stretch your arm out).
“Did he get the bad guys?” Eddie asks. He’s awake but makes no attempt to move from Richie’s shoulder.
“Yeah. Yeah. I don’t think the ending of die hard has changed since last year.” Richie says. Eddie lets out a small hum, it’s meant to be insulting, a thanks for the reminder captain obvious, but instead comes out as genuine agreement.
Eddie’s eyes move over to the clock on the wall. 6pm. He’s got about 50 minutes until he has to walk home, 55 minutes if he feels like running home. In the snow, he doesn’t particularly feel like running. Richie watches Eddie check the clock, the way his expression hardens slightly, like he’s already bracing himself to leave. Richie hates that look. It’s the same one Eddie gets when Sonia calls.
“Hey, uh. Wait here a sec.” He stands up abruptly, leaving Eddie blinking after him, confused. Richie darts up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“Where are you going?” Eddie calls after him.
“Just sit tight, Eds!” Richie shouts back, his voice echoing down the hall.
“That was weird and unresponsive.” Eddie mumbles. He takes a moment to count through the actual amount of cash that Went gave him. Under Eddie’s bed he has a small box of cash, saved up from the occasional allowance, birthdays, Christmas, he works some weekends when the local cafe in town needs him. He’s saved up a tidy sum of money in about two years. He needs a car. It’s the only way out. Eddie knows that.
His thoughts are interrupted when Richie comes back.
Richie flops back down on the couch beside him, holding out a small object wrapped in faded brown paper. It’s not as sloppy as Richie’s earlier wrapping job, but it’s definitely seen better days, like it’s been opened and rewrapped more than once. Eddie hesitates, his hand hovering over the gift. “What’s this?” Eddie asks.
“Guess.” Richie says.
“The constitution?” Eddie says. “That could be the start of a really stupid movie.” He laughs gently.
Richie shrugs, trying to look casual but failing miserably. “Something I’ve been holding onto for a while. Figured now’s a good time.”
Eddie peels back the paper carefully, revealing a small, dog-eared comic book. The edges are frayed, the colors on the cover faded, but it’s unmistakably a Superman comic—the first issue of Action Comics he and Richie had ever bought together from Mr. Keene’s pharmacy when they were eleven. Eddie had saved up his allowance for weeks, even skipped lunch once or twice to help cover the cost (Richie had shared his lunch on those days).
The memory comes flooding back: Richie daring him to swipe the comic when neither of them had enough, Eddie refusing, his heart racing as Richie distracted Mr. Keene with an elaborate story about a raccoon or a hedgehog or something in one of the bins behind the pharmacy. In the end they’d taken the comic and read the whole thing in Richie’s room, laughing at Superman’s ridiculous outfit and Eddie’s insistence on pointing out the inaccuracies in the dialogue.
“You kept this?” Eddie’s voice is barely above a whisper, his thumb tracing the corner of the cover. The colours are faded and the pages are wrinkled from age, literal years of age. But it’s not used, it’s vintage, it’s a relic from a different time. “You’re giving it to me?” Eddie asks, his voice cracking slightly.
Richie shrugs again, but there’s a softness in his eyes. “Yeah. I mean, it was always ours, right?” Richie audibly gulps before he keeps talking. “There’s also something inside of it.” He says, as if giving Eddie a thoughtful suggestion to look inside which he does. He flips through until he finds the page where the extra present is tucked away, just after Superman manages to defeat the Ultra-Humanite, there’s a necklace being used as a makeshift bookmark.
“Oh wow.” Eddie says, a little breathless. He pulls it up from in between the creases of the comic. “Richie, it's beautiful.” Eddie says. He wants to ask how Richie got it and where he got it, it looks expensive. He knows Richie does chores and has a job and sometimes works part time for his dad answering phone calls at reception but he definitely doesn’t make enough for this. Unless he’s been saving up for a while… Either way Eddie decides he’d rather not know, Richie stealing it from a store while stupid is incredibly sweet, Richie saving up for months to buy it is also incredibly sweet. Eddie doesn’t know which way is better, or worse.
“I love it.” Eddie says in earnest as he looks at Richie.
They sit in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth of the fireplace wrapping around them like a blanket.
Eventually, Eddie glances at the clock again. 6:30. He should leave soon.
But Richie leans back, crossing his arms behind his head like he has all the time in the world. “Hey, Eds?”
“Yeah?”
“Next year, you’re staying for the whole day. No sneaking in after the world’s saddest turkey dinner. You’re just… staying.”
Eddie nods. It’s a nice idea. But that’s all it really is. An idea. Not that he doesn’t want to spend the whole day and night with Richie and his parents. He wants it more than anything in the world. But sometimes it’s easier to go home, the longer Eddie stays at the Tozier’s the more and more he doesn’t want to leave. He once stayed for a sleepover that lasted a week, just day after day of Richie asking if Eddie could stay just one more night. When he finally went home, it was like a form of torture.
He doesn’t know what’s worse, being in his own house or leaving the Tozier’s home.
The rooms at his house feel more like cages than spaces for living. He thinks of his mother, always asleep, or watching him with eyes that feel less like a parent’s and more like a warden’s. Even Christmas morning at the Kaspbrak house feels clinical, like a chore to be ticked off. He can see her now. Probably still asleep. If not she’d be screaming down the phone. She knows where Eddie is, or at least that’s what Eddie thinks.
Whenever Eddie’s left home without her knowing before, she’s always called the Tozier’s first. Because she knows. She knows the place her child runs to.
He blinks down at the comic again, but his hands tremble slightly as a memory pushes its way to the surface, uninvited.
When he was ten, right after New Year’s. The first big snowstorm of the season had hit, and Eddie had begged his mom to let him go outside. He wanted to see Richie. Maybe build a snowman like Richie always talked about, even if Eddie thought it sounded a little dumb. But Sonia had given him the same sharp look she always did when Eddie asked for something for himself.
"You’ll catch pneumonia, Eddie. You want that? You want to die? Is that what you’re trying to do to me?"
He’d tried to explain—just for an hour, just to see Richie, but the conversation had ended the way they all did. Her voice rising, sharp as glass, until the words lodged themselves somewhere deep inside him.
You don’t need anyone else. You have me.
Eddie had spent the rest of that day staring out the frost-covered window, imagining what the snow must feel like. How it must crunch underfoot. Wondering if Richie was outside, his cheeks pink from the cold, building something ridiculous and laughing at his own jokes. Eddie had hugged his knees to his chest and waited for the light outside to fade, thinking that if he stayed small enough, quiet enough, maybe he’d disappear entirely.
“I really love it, you know.” Eddie says. He’s talking about the necklace.
“So you’ve said closing in on about a million times.” Richie teases.
“I’m just saying, I'm glad I get to be here.” Eddie says.
“Well of course you are. I’m a delight to be around.” Richie says.
“I’m serious.” Eddie says. His voice is uncharacteristically soft. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. You’re my best friend. You’re family.” Richie says.
Family.
The word settles deep in Eddie’s chest, soft and warm. He doesn’t say anything else, but as Richie starts rambling about the best scenes from Die Hard, and whether or not The Thing could be considered a Christmas film simply because there’s a lot of snow while the events take place. Eddie leans back against his shoulder, letting himself believe—just for a little while—that maybe Richie’s right.