#squipsalt

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First ever Hatchetfield fanfiction WOOHOO‼️‼️‼️apologies if the writing is inconsistent/just bad LMAO,, hope you enjoy!

Reblogs appreciated:)

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Chapter 1: Meeting up

Paul sat at a small table in his local coffee shop, Beanie's. His leg bounced up and down nervously, his mouth sipping on a cup of black coffee. Emma, his girlfriend who worked at the shop, was somewhere in the back, preparing someone else's order, while her coworker, or boss (Zoe, Emma said) was singing her heart out at the front whenever a customer tipped. It was absolute torture to Paul. After all, he didn't like anything remotely musical related.

Besides being there to see Emma, Paul was in Beanie's for another reason.

He gingerly pulled out his phone from his pocket. He smiled a bit, seeing his lock screen, which was a selfie of him and Emma. They drove to some '80s style diner a few minutes away from Beanie's. It was nice, small, and cosy for a first date.

Paul pressed the messenger app on his screen, scrolling through a list of contacts until he landed on one. He opened the chat.

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3:12 PM - Contact: Richie

> | Paul: | Hey, Rich! I'm already at Beanie's, when are you coming?

> | Richie: | Hey uncle paul! I'm otw now ^^ should see u in a few mins!!

> | Paul: | Alright, noted. I'm at the table near the window. See you soon! 💙

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Happy with the exchange, Paul set his phone down on the table. This was one of the rare occasions where he'd hang out with his nephew, Richard Lipschitz, or as he liked to be called, Richie. Paul didn't really get to know his nephew as much as he wanted to, mostly because of his work at CCRP, or simply because of how basic yet busy his schedule was. So he was glad he was given the time to properly get to know Richie for once.

"Uncle!"

He perked up. Paul recognised that set of awkward, shuffly footsteps, that high pitched cracky voice. Looking up from his table, he smiled. Standing in front of him, with his hands under his arms, was Richie, with that dorky smile that showed off his braces and his spiky blue dyed hair. He wore a simple set of shorts, a pair of black sneakers, and on brand, some sort of t-shirt with an anime looking character on it. (It looked like some sort of singing woman with blue pigtails?)

"This is Miku," Richie gestured to the front of his clothing. "Gift from Ruth," he added, sitting down next to Paul. "She's really cool. She's like a singing robot!- a hologram jukebox!"

Paul smiled, tugging at his sleeve. It was a habit. "She looks...cool! Hah," Paul chuckled. "But I probably wouldn't like her. Since she – sings, and all."

Awkward silence. Get a grip, Paul.

"Uh, anyways," he cleared his throat, shifting so he was facing his nephew. "How are you?"

Richie tapped his fingers on the wooden table as he spoke. "Going around decently," he answered. Paul hummed. He was always slightly amused at how his nephew talked sometimes. Richie had emphasized the 't' in 'decently.' Paul knew that he got teased for this, but he didn't mind at all. It was just another little quirk of his nephew, and he wouldn't judge him for it.

"That's good. How's school?"

Richie sunk in his seat, running a hand through his spiky blue dyed tips. Paul actually never knew the reason for the makeover. He didn't wanna sound rude (like he apparently did according to one of his coworkers) and ask about it. He just heard a mention of Sonic the Hedgehog and some Japanese name and that was it.

"It's awful," Richie groaned. "High school is gonna kill me one day, I swear!"

Paul laughed. "Hey, it's not so bad," he patted his nephew on the shoulder. "When I was in high school, I was doing just fine!" He grinned. Richie only rolled his eyes. "That's because you were boring," he scoffed, that tingy matter-of-factly tone seeping back into his words. "You didn't live your days in fear of Maxwell Jägerman!" He stuck up a finger to prove his point.

Paul, amused, put a hand over his chest, where his heart was. "Oh, Richie, you wound me," he teased, ruffling the boy's hair, which got a laugh out of him. "Just because I'm your average man in the workforce now doesn't mean I wasn't in trouble or didn't have my fair share of bullies!" He smiled. Paul didn't know why he found pride in being a bullied kid. Maybe this is how Bill felt when he tried connecting with Alice, he thought. Hold your horses, Paul. You gotta pick this back up.

Awkwardly, Paul cleared his throat, that signature uncomfortable 'I don't know what to do' expression plastered on his face. After a pause, he managed to speak again. "Uhhh... My brother, Gary! Jerry, Daniel, Gary- he's a lawyer now, best in town! But in high school, he was a huge nerd. He always got picked on, and then cousin Jerry hit him in the head with a rusty shovel!"

Richie blinked. Paul grimaced. Way to go, Matthews.

"Fucking sick!" His nephew exclaimed. Paul had no idea how Richie found that 'fucking sick', but at least he was somewhat on track with this conversation.

"Wanna know the real kicker?" Paul made a sour expression. "That kid was from Clivesdale."

On cue, the both of them exclaimed, "Fuck Clivesdale, fuck 'em straight to hell, assholes!" The two of them were really alike. Well, everyone in Hatchetfield hated Clivesdale just as much, but still.

"Language," Paul chuckled, patting Richie's shoulder. "But true, fuck 'em," he whispered.

Richie shook his hand off, a frown on his lips. "I can swear, Uncle, I'm 18!" He retorted, proceeding to repeat several swear words confidently. Paul sighed, this was something his nephew always did. It was inevitable, at this point. He remembered when Richie first moved in with him, how shy he had been, how he looked like he'd tumble over his feet whenever he walked. Now, he felt comfortable enough with Paul to be himself, to show he liked all sorts of different anime shows and apparently throw swears at him. It was amusing to see how far his nephew had grown in their time together.

"Well, we can't speak that foul language in a public place, Rich," Paul spoke, interrupting his nephew's flow of curses, which he rolled his eyes at. "Let's order some pastries for the both of us and go to that comic book store you like after! Sound good?"

At the mention of the store, Richie's eyes sparkled. "Yes! I heard they just released a new volume of this manga I read!" He exclaimed, before rambling on and on about something between the lines of 'cool fight scenes' and 'character arcs.' Of course, Paul didn't understand anything Richie dumped about, but he nodded and smiled as if he did. Again, he didn't wanna be unintentionally rude.

Walking up to the counter, Paul came across Emma, in her usual green apron and messy bun. Even if most of the customers would say she looked like dogshit, Paul only thought she looked as pretty as the last time he saw her.

Before he started staring at Emma (Paul 'Heart-Eyes' Matthews over here couldn't catch a break), he began to speak. "Hey, Em," he waved, his other hand fidgeting below the counter. Emma, currently, was counting the amount of money inside the tip jar on the table, grumbling to herself. Probably because she'd have to split the cash. Again. When she looked up and saw Paul, her frustration visibly melted away into that genuine smile that made Paul have a mini heart attack every time. "Hey, Paul," she replied, her hand brushing off the coins and dollar bills back into the jar. "Another black coffee?" She asked.

"Oh, no, I'm actually gonna order the uh..." Paul took a second to skim the menu before looking back at Emma. "Two blueberry pastries to-go, and... One black coffee and one iced blackberry tea," he smiled. Paul didn't really know what Richie would like, (he didn't get to ask him for his order since he was still talking,) so he hoped this was good enough for him. Emma chuckled as she began to prepare the pastries and drinks. "Woah, you got someone else over tonight or what?" She teased. I'd never, not when you're perfect, Paul thought. But he held himself back from saying it out loud. He wasn't too good with compliments.

"Uh, no, actually," he laughed, his fingers absently tapping on his wrist. "I'm with my nephew for today," Paul turned to the table near the window where Richie sat, on his phone. "Thought I'd order more than just black coffee today so he could have something as well."

Emma turned in the direction Paul looked at. "Ohhh," she clicked her tongue, a smirk on her face. "That's your nephew. Gotta say, Paul, he looked so much like you I thought you had a secret kid I didn't know about," Emma snorted, handing a paper bag with a Beanie's logo stamped on the front to Paul. He took a quick peek inside. Pastries wrapped in parchment, and two lidded cups. The bag felt warm to the touch. Must be his order. Paul held the bag in one hand, flashing a smile to Emma. "Thanks, for preparing the order and everything."

Emma shrugged, walking out from behind the counter and up to Paul. "Well, it's my job," she held his cheeks in her hands, and stood on her toes to kiss him. Saying Paul wasn't flustered would be a huge lie. He was sure he was as red as the cherry pie on display.

"Hopefully Zoey won't kick me in the ass later for not making you pay," Emma chuckled, her hands delicately adjusting Paul's tie. Paul prayed she hadn't noticed how flushed he was. "Well, I'll get back to my shift," Emma pecked his cheek before holding his hands. "Text me when you get home. Wanna make sure you're safe, and all that. I know it's sappy, but I don't give a shit," she laughed, before walking back to the counter. "Of course I will," Paul vowed. "Even if it's sappy."

He loved it when Emma was like this. Teasing him, like they just met, and loving him like they'd been together for ages. Paul certainly still wasn't used to the whole 'dating' premise yet, but he was trying.

"I'll go now," Paul gave Emma a quick peck on her hand before waving and walking away from the counter. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Emma, his wonderful girlfriend, smiling while she continued her work. It made him smile too.

Just then, Richie tapped on his shoulder, jolting Paul out of his Emma-induced trance. "You nearly forgot me," he jabbed, quickly matching his uncle's walking pace as he kept his hands under his arms. "Who was the barista lady?" He asked, an eyebrow raised. "Is she the Emma person you post all about on your story?" Richie squinted.

Paul chuckled. "Yep. That's Emma Perkins, my girlfriend," he nodded. "We met at this very coffee shop. It's become part of my routine to stop by after my work to see her. Eventually, we went on a date, and... Yeah."

Richie stared at him. After a moment, he asked in a hushed tone, "So she's like, your waifu?"

Paul blinked. "Uh... Yes?"

Richie groaned. "Lucky," his hand tightened around his arm. "I only have my Rei and Asuka body pillows... It's amazing, but it always hurts to know they don't really love me like I pretend they do..."

Paul blinked again. He had no idea what a body pillow was, so he assumed it was just a Richie thing. "Uh... I'm sure they love you, right?" He chuckled awkwardly, patting his nephew's back in some form of reassurance. "Hm... I guess I can continue to act like it," Richie mumbled, slouching as he walked. "What did you order?" He asked, his pale blue eyes fixed on the paper bag in Paul's other hand.

"Two blueberry pastries for the both of us, and an iced blackberry tea for you. I just ordered a black coffee," Paul replied, the aroma of the fresh food inside wafting in the air around the two. Richie took a sniff at the bag. "Smells good," he commented. "I like blueberries," he added, to Paul's relief. He was just glad he didn't screw up the order.

"We're gonna eat these once we get home, but first..." Paul smiled as he turned to the comic book store across the street. "We'll go there."

Richie looked ecstatic. He bolted to the store, much to Paul's concern because of the cars that were zooming past the road. "Richie-! Wait!!" He yelled, the bag of pastries in his hand as he ran after his nephew.

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After repeatedly apologizing to a few angry drivers, Paul entered the comic book store, squinting almost instantly at how bright the inside was. Around him, he heard the sounds of excited chatter and book pages turning.

When his eyes adjusted, he set his gaze on Richie, who was excitedly jumping in a corner next to a shelf lined with thick and thin comic books (or manga, as Richie called them.) Paul quickly paced to his nephew, catching his breath.

"Richie," he huffed, a hand scratching his neck, his eyes wide. He swore his heart rate spiked up in the span of 2 seconds. "You can't just run through the road without warning me-!"

Richie was barely paying attention. He was bouncing up and down, flipping through page after page of whatever he was reading. "Uncle, do you have enough money for this?" He closed the book and held it tightly in his hands. It looked like it was about to rip, so Paul quickly rubbed Richie's hands to loosen his grip. "Yes, I think so," Paul nodded, gingerly taking the comic from his nephew's hands while feeling around for his wallet. He heard Richie whisper a triumphant 'yes!' and 'you're the best' behind him.

"But please," he whispered. "Be careful and tell me where you're going next time."

Richie laughed. "Don't worry, Uncle. I did the Naruto run!" He crossed his arms, his stance confident as he grinned, the dimming sunlight making his braces twinkle.

Again, Paul didn't what his nephew meant at all, but hopefully that meant he was safe.

"Ok. Ok, ok," Paul muttered.

With that, he quickly paid whatever amount of money the comic cost, and pulled him and Richie out of the store. "Seriously, Rich, you have to tell me what all those words you say mean, because I'm not gonna get by."

Richie fiddled with the end of his shirt. "Maybe not all..." He muttered, walking a bit faster than Paul. "Catch up! When we get back home, we can watch, uh– a movie together!"

Paul blinked. Sudden awkwardness usually was suspicious to him, but Richie was a teenager. Maybe learning about body pillows or waifus was something Richie didn't wanna disclose, and that was fine.

"Ok, ok," Paul muttered, fiddling with the paper bag in his hands. "What movie do you wanna watch?" As long as it isn't a musical, I'll be fine, he thought.

Richie shook his head. "All the ones I have are musicals... I'm gonna be in a play at Hatchetfield High," he explained. Paul thought back to when Ruth, one of Richie's friends, came over. He could hear them singing in the spare room upstairs, something about a barbecue mixed with life lessons. Maybe that was the play his nephew was talking about. "Well, then..." Paul put a hand on Richie's shoulder. "We don't have to watch a movie, if it's all gonna be musicals," he laughed, hoping he didn't sound awkward. Again.

"Let's go home, and then we can decide what to do."

Frankly, Paul wanted to do a lot with Richie, since they didn't get the chance to hang out or even talk as much after Richie would spend all his time elsewhere. Don't get him wrong, Paul loved that his nephew was learning and making friends, but he couldn't help but feel like the distant uncle who just hung around and worked while sipping a mug of black coffee. Again, he was almost always focused on work. Even when everyone else in his office had left and gone home, he was the only one left in the building, typing away and printing the occasional documents. Mr. Davidson had to escort Paul out of the office since it was already way past working hours one time.

The only times Paul and Richie had interacted before they met up at the cafe was during his birthday, which was 6 months ago. Paul really needed to catch up. So hopefully, when they got home and sat down on the couch or whatever, something would come up and they'd get to have a decent uncle-to-nephew conversation.

"Alright," Richie nodded. "I really wanna eat the pastries already, anyway."

Paul nodded. "Me too. I'll probably heat them up in the microwave beforehand–Emma did say Beanie's had cold and shitty pastries," He laughed, feeling the now faint warmth of the paper bag in his palm. "Well, at least it's still food," Richie pointed out. "School lunch is the worst," he huffed. "Oh, so that's why you pack snacks. Though, why chocolate?" Paul raised his eyebrow. "I thought you liked those little gummies."

"It's for Pete," Richie replied, digging in his pocket. He held up a half eaten bar of chocolate. "He has very low blood sugar."

Paul recognised the name. Pete. Peter Spankoffski. The younger brother of his workmate, Ted Spankoffski. He's seen the kid before. He remembered Pete being freakishly tall, way taller than Richie, and maybe even surpassing Paul's height too. "Isn't he the kid who wears suspenders and a bowtie?"

Richie nodded. "Yeah, but he's been changing his style a bit. Yesterday, I saw him wearing a sweatshirt. Those checkered ones," emphasis on checkered.

"Ah, must've borrowed it from Ted..." Paul mumbled. He didn't recall a time where Peter and Ted were together in one place. But he calculated that they were about the same height.

"Ted? As in, his older brother?" Richie scoffed, taking a bite of the chocolate and laughing while he chewed. "He always tries to hit on the teachers during pick-up."

Yep, sounds like Ted, Paul thought, nodding.

After a moment, Paul checked his watch. 5:45 PM. The sun was beginning to set, colours of orange, pink, and yellow lingering in the sky above them. "We should probably get home. It's getting dark."

Richie stuffed the chocolate back into his pocket, swallowing the last piece he had in his mouth. "Ok," he grinned, looking up at his uncle. "Then I can introduce you to all the animes I watch. There's Dandadan, Attack on Titan..." Richie went on and on, reading off of a mental list of shows that Paul knew nothing about. But he was looking forward to sitting down with his nephew and watching all of them, even if they included musical numbers (he had earplugs anyway.)