#ALSO THE USUAL SUSPECTS ARE DUSTIN AND MAX BUT I WANTED TO DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT

[dontcallmeeds]

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4

Eddie takes the piece of metal for the new piece and runs his torch along it. The flame flickers against the silver as he does, white hot.

But instead of bending it quite yet, he hammers down on it roughly before flicking the flame over it again. He bends it around the sizing device, still estimating Steve’s ring size to be just under his.

Once it’s shaped and melded together, he hammers it more, giving some of it a rougher edge.

The next part is tricker, the oxidation process.

Eddie is grateful his uncle stays out of his room and his business, he’s sure by now that the noises that aren’t just Iron Maiden or his own musical talents have caused confusion and intrigue.

He meant to tell his uncle about his jewelry, but honestly it made him nervous for people to see his work and know it was his. Like suddenly they’d change their minds and decide it was actually quite shit.

Especially the person he was giving most of his projects to.

Eddie takes out the clean plastic box from under his work station and puts a paper towel on the bottom, soaking in ammonia. He covers it with a plastic lid after the smell hits him and opens his tiny trailer bedroom window.

Realistically, he shouldn’t do this in the confined space, but he figures he’s inhaled enough bad shit; he’ll survive.

Eddie opens the box again to take a piece of tinfoil next and puts it in the middle of the box for the ring to sit on, then rolls the ring in the ammonia. He pours salt onto the ring, focusing on the spots he hammered more.

Placing it on the tinfoil, Eddie smiles to himself. This piece is going to be beautiful, but it’s also rougher than the last few pieces.

Steve would probably think his secret admirer, a woman no doubt, bought it from somewhere a little edgier. Eddie sighs at that thought, wishing he wasn’t such a coward. Wishing he could just tell him outright.

But it really wasn’t that simple.

As Eddie sketches out the final details of the ring, he hears the front door open, figuring Wayne might’ve come home on lunch. He had been doing that a lot lately, coming home from work to eat, to check up on Eddie.

But Eddie startles when he turns around to his own door swinging open, something his uncle would never do without knocking and waiting on an answer.

Mike Wheeler and Lucas Sinclair stand in his doorway, arguing something about their character sheets for the next campaign and apparently needing Eddie to be the tiebreaker.

Before he can hide the sketch or the box with the ring—

“What’s that?”

They ask it in unison with wide eyes and pinched noses, staring at the box containing his next secret gift to Steve.

“Nothing,” Eddie moves it aside with the sketchbook on top, trying to walk forward until they all go into the living room. He isn’t that lucky.

“It looks important,” Mike tries to look over his shoulder at the work station.

“Yeah, looks like a secret,” Lucas so helpfully chimes in, little shit.

“Can you guys drop it? What’s this about your—“

“We can stand here all day,” Lucas folds his arms with a smirk, nudging Mike’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m what Nancy likes to call ‘insufferable’,” Mike follows up, and Eddie has to stop himself from snorting at that.

“Fine! God, you guys are the worst and I’m starting to regret bringing you under my wing,” Eddie doesn’t, not once, but who is he if not dramatic, “you have to swear to secrecy of the highest level. It’s quite literally life or death.”

They exchange looks and then smile wide at Eddie, nodding in agreement with the terms. He takes a deep breath and starts.

“Eww, seriously? Steve? Like my sister’s ex, that Steve?!”

“For the millionth time, baby Wheeler, yes. Like your sister’s ex,” Eddie rubs his temples, having to literally repeat himself for the last twenty minutes.

The boys finally stop asking questions shortly after, at least about Steve.

“So how long does it sit like,” Lucas gestures vaguely to the now fully covered box, “that for?”

“About twenty four hours,” Eddie answers.

“So you make your own? All your rings and chains?” Mike asks, seemingly dropping his whole Steve grudge. For now.

“Yeah, have been since I was sixteen probably,” Eddie outstretches his hands and stares down at them himself.

“Cool,” is the last thing Mike adds before they seem to move on from the subject all together and ask about their character sheets once again finally.

The night becomes an ongoing argument, Eddie having to break them up multiple times. But he can’t help but feel a little relieved from being able to have people who know about his secret.

The teens leave late with promises to keep everything under wraps, they of course both want updates, even begging to come with to drop the next ring off. Eddie says he’ll think about it, but they’ll be louder than his clunky van so he’ll just tell him later he forgot.

The next afternoon, the ring is ready to pull out and he looks it over with pride. Taking fine grit sandpaper, he rubs over the piece and inspects it thoroughly to make sure it’s ready for final touches.

Taking a silver wire that he already prepped, Eddie takes jewelry pliers and wraps it around the thinnest piece of the ring. He fires over it and looks it over one last time.

It’s everything he wanted it to be, nothing else he’s given Steve has looked like this.

Smiling to himself, Eddie puts it in it’s box and writes the note to accompany it.

‘Stevie, something different.’

[cloudycleric]

Okay, I'm gonna re-write the whole thing cause I didn't check it for grammar mistakes last time.

The two birds were sitting on a branch near the three waterfalls when everything suddenly made sense to Mike - the three waterfalls represented queerness. That is why they had to leave the local village. All these years, ever since they agreed to go crazy together…how could he not know? 

After all, he had repressed his feelings for too long and when Will’s beak gave him butterflies he pushed the mere thoughts of him to the depths of his heart.

Mike looked at Will’s dazzling honey kissed eyes and decided to finally rid himself of the tempting urge, get it over and kiss him. When Mike decided to stop the parrot heart-eyed staring contest, a rainbow formed above their heads. Everything was perfec-

“Mike!”

“MIKE! GET UP!” 

“What the fu-” Mike mouthed, opening his eyes trying to recover from whatever self questioning shit he had dreamt.

‘’You’re gonna be late!’’ Shouted Nancy.

‘’Shit- just let me get dressed-’’

Mike had just had the biggest realization of his life. Could he possibly like Will?

-He had found it way easier to write letters to will than to el when they lived in California. He always signed Will's letters with Love, Mike but just wrote From, Mike for El’s letters. He didn’t send Will’s letters because he always ended up writing 5 pages for him and 1 page for El.

-His friendship with him was always different from his other friendships. They loved being physically close to each other when they were kids, whether that meant holding hands, bumping shoulders or cuddling on sleepovers. Mike still loved being close to Will.

-He looked at Will's lips a lot.

He definitely liked Will. 

Nancy was already making her way towards the door. Mike sighed, realizing he had been staring at the ceiling. He’d have to bike again.

—---------------------------------------------------

Mike never thought he’d spend so much time thinking about a dream with parrots in it. Not only that, but ever since that morning, he hadn’t been sleeping well, he’d been dreading school, and he’d been picking at the skin around his nails more than usual. When he was actually able to sleep, he would have the same dream all over again, like his mind was doing it on purpose.

He knew the party suspected something was up with him, especially Will. The thing was, talking to someone he’d had a crush on for way more than a week without realizing, was very hard to do without being blatantly obvious.

‘’Mike? You’ve been looking more and more depressed for the past week.’’ Max deadpaned, with her ’I’m gonna torture you until you tell me what’s up’ face.

‘’Gee, thanks Max’’ He said, hoping she’d drop the subject.

Max had been placed in the same homeroom as him, and since they hadn’t gotten along that well before and Mike wanted to make up, they’d been getting to know each other better. Mike was shocked when he realized that they were surprisingly alike. They both had anger issues and didn’t know how to talk about their feelings properly.

‘’Come on, even Lucas and Dustin can tell something’s going on, and they’re hopeless. You can talk to me.’’ 

Mike only knew she was serious because they weren’t insulting each other, but she’d go back to teasing him if he told her what had been bothering him. Nevertheless, she’d also annoy him until he told her.

‘’ Nothing’s going on!’’

‘’ Nothing!? You’ve been zoning out more than ever at lunch, Mike. I know that we’re both terrible at feelings, but maybe telling me would help?’’

Mike scoffed, blushing with embarrassment at the fact that he was going to tell Max of all people about his crush.

He became aware of his surroundings, and about the fact that a crowded high school corridor in a conservative town in the 80’s wasn’t the best place to tell her he liked Will, specifically because rumors were fast to get around.

‘’Not. Here.’’

‘’We can…skip class?’’ Max smirked mischievously, pointing towards the open exit door.

She ran out the door, turned on her walkman and started riding her skateboard.

‘’MAX! - WAIT FOR ME!’’

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

They finally got to where the Party usually stayed when they skipped class. The spot was close to Castle Byers, which Mike had spent the previous summer renovating it as an apology to Will for being an asshole.

“Spit it out.’’ Said Max, who was already using her skateboard as a seat and turning off her walkman.

Mike sat on top of his coat, sighed and slightly covered his face with his hands, scared of how she might react. 

‘’I’ve been weird because I realized I like someone.”

“Okay…?’’ Max said while she opened a bag of chips ‘’Do I know this person?’’

‘’Yeah, you know hi- them’’

‘’Him? Are they a boy?’’

Mike looked up, expecting to see a disgusted look on her face, but instead found a perfectly calm one.

“Yeah.” 

“Ok.’’

‘’You’re… not mad?’’ He said, utterly confused.

‘’Oh my god, Mike, why would I be mad?’’ Max scoffed ‘’ Don’t freak out if it’s not, but is it -Will?

‘’Wait- how did you know?’’ 

Now he was confused.

‘’You know when I said you were zoning out? Well, you’ve been zoning out - like- looking at him. Not to mention you’ve both been head over heels for each other for years?’’

‘’Both?’’

‘’If you ask me, Will likes you back. No offense, but I wouldn’t call your relationship platonic’’

‘’So you’re saying I should tell him?’’

‘’Yeah, unless you want to stay like this forever?’’

Max was right. He would have to tell Will eventually.

‘’What if he doesn’t like me back? And- how am I supposed to tell him?’’

‘’You have to figure it out yourself.’’

----------------

Did you like it? :) Should i post it on ao3 once i finish and send you a link?

Also, I'm curious if you have any sexuality headcanons for characters other than Byler... I totally see Max as bi. She's so pookie :D

PLEASE POST THIS PLEASE I LVOE IT & THE PUBLIC NEEDS TO KNOW

[magniloquent-raven]

for fluff: "one more chapter" or "there's enough room for both of us"

it’s been 84 years............ but here u go lmao tysm for the prompts!!!!!! i used both!

CW for some brief suicidal ideation, just in case. it’s v mild but pls be careful yall (i know, this fic was supposed to be fluffy 😅)

posted on ao3

------

Billy’s life had changed a lot in the past two years. 

So much that some days he barely recognizes himself in the mirror. The scars, the state of his hair—which he hasn’t cut since last summer and generally just throws back for convenience’ sake—the stubble he doesn’t bother with most days. Small things, in the grander scheme of what’s different about his life, but it adds up.

And it’s Friday night, he’s curled up at home, and perfectly content to be there. 

There’s a steaming mug of cider on the coffee table (a scratched-up old thing that Hop left him when he officially handed off ownership of his trailer to Billy), and wind rattling the windows, and Max is asleep in the next room. It’s...cozy. 

El stopped by earlier that afternoon, Max in tow, demanding Billy let them stay because Mike was being a dick or a DnD campaign was going on too long and El’s character died a while back so she was bored, or...something. Possibly Mike was being a dick about her character being dead. Max kept chiming in with her own two cents worth but it really just made the whole thing harder to follow.

But it didn’t really matter why they stopped by, they’re always coming up with reasons to invade his living room and eat all his food and nag him about teaching them how to do fancy braids. And Max usually wanders off to nap in his room when El starts asking Billy to read to her.

Which is what he’s doing now. 

Last month he read her Jane Eyre (her idea). A week ago they started The Hobbit. 

It’s been slow going, considering how often El interrupts to ask questions, and every time there’s a song they have the same argument about him not actually singing, but they’re making progress. 

He’s reading through the weird goblin song as monotone as possible just so he can laugh at El’s disgruntled scrunchy face, and putting up with her poking his thigh with her toes when he rolls his eyes at her, and honestly having the time of his fucking life, because, yeah, saying things have changed in the past two years is the understatement of the decade.

When he gets to the end of Over Hill and Under Hill and closes the book she gasps dramatically, sitting up and pulling the ugly orange throw blanket (gift from Mrs. Byers) she’d been snuggled up in tighter around her shoulders.

“Billy, no!” 

He drops the book in his lap and raises his eyebrows at her. “It’s the end of the chapter.”

“No.”

“Yeah, it definitely is.”

El frowns at him, her whole face going pinched. “But you can’t stop there.”

It’s moments like this that almost make Billy forget she can kill people with her brain. Moments when she just looks like a kid, all wrapped up in her favourite blanket and pouting. 

And it’s like she knows that’s his goddamn kryptonite. Because those moments also remind him that she deserves this. More than anyone he knows, she deserves all the childish crap she wants, and more. It won’t ever replace the childhood that was taken from her, but it’s a start.

So, needless to say, Billy has a hard time saying no to her.

He drops his head back against the cushion behind him, staring at the ceiling for a moment—pretending to contemplate, while she glowers at him—and sighs loudly. 

“One more chapter.” 

She beams.

They’re only a few pages into Riddles in the Dark when a car pulls up, and Billy doesn’t even have time to put the book down before the front door bursts open. 

“El! Will thought he—is that The Hobbit?” Dustin comes to an abrupt halt two paces into the room, blinking at the book in Billy’s hands. All his little friends nearly collide with his back, and there’s suddenly a gaggle of obnoxious teenagers huddled in Billy’s doorway. 

“Who cares,” Lucas scoffs, pushing him out of the way so he, Wheeler, and Will, can shuffle the rest of the way inside. “Get out of the way!”

Billy is still trying to figure out what the fuck’s even happening when Steve goddamn Harrington walks in behind his pack of brats. Because of course he was the one who drove them here. Him being a fine upstanding citizen and all that. With nothing better to do, apparently. (Not that Billy has room to judge anymore.)

Suddenly the bickering kids are mostly background noise. Billy always did have a hard time concentrating on anything else when Steve’s in the room. Especially when he’s looking like that, warm brown eyes lit up with interest, and the corner of his mouth pulling upwards in a half-smile. His cheeks are pink from the chill outside, his hair a mess from the wind, and locking eyes with him makes Billy’s heart pound. 

They’ve been on good terms these past few months and it’s a special kind of torture that Billy wouldn’t give up for the fucking world.

But he doesn’t get to enjoy the view for long because—

“—the Mind Flayer might be back!”

Billy stiffens. “What?” He glances at El. She’s sitting up straight now, her eyes dark, expression closed off. 

Mike sighs irritably. “Weren’t you listening? Will thinks he might have sensed the Mind Flayer, so we needed to make sure El’s okay.” He crosses his arms, glaring at Billy. “Because the stupid thing wants her dead, remember?”

“Wheeler,” Steve hisses, and smacks the kid’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Billy grits his teeth, cold fingers trailing down his spine. “I remember.” 

The room is silent for several agonizing seconds, the kids all exchanging glances. Until Billy’s bedroom door opens and Max shuffles out, rubbing her eyes. 

“What’s everyone doing here?” 

~~

They’d all been hanging out at Steve’s when Will had a bad feeling. The same kind of prickling bone-deep chill he’d gotten two summers ago. Needless to say, ignoring it until people started dying didn’t seem like the way to go this time, hence the home invasion.

Which had been Steve’s idea, apparently. Or. His initial reaction had been to blurt out does this mean Billy’s possessed again, and it had spiraled from there. To Mike freaking out about El not being safe because she was here, to Lucas reminding him that Billy had only gotten the better of her when she didn’t have powers, to Dustin yelling about checking in with her either way because she might have The Facts. 

And so they’d broken a couple traffic laws to get here.

Billy suspects Steve feels guilty about suggesting he might be possessed, because he got very awkward when it was brought up. And he stepped in several times when Wheeler and Sinclair’s interrogation got a little too intense (there were threats of hot pokers involved).

It should have felt condescending—Billy’s a grown-ass adult, he doesn’t need someone defending him from lanky teenagers—but he can’t help feeling a little warm when it’s Steve coming to his defense. 

The discussion overall is a mess. El doesn’t have any answers, Billy hasn’t felt anything odd lately, and the lack of anything to go on beyond Will having a momentary freakout is putting everyone on edge. 

Max, who squished herself onto the couch between Billy and El, cuts through the cyclical arguing after the third dramatic eye-roll from Mike. “Guys, can you cool it for a second. We’re getting nowhere.” Her protest is punctuated by a yawn, which makes El giggle. 

“She’s right,” Steve sighs, mussing with his hair absentmindedly. “Billy and El are fine, everyone’s fine, we should all get some sleep.”

“Dude, are you sure you’re good to drive?” Dustin asks, squinting appraisingly at Steve. It’s a fair question, it’s late and Steve looks like he’s about to keel over, but Billy’s not sure he likes where this is going.

“Who said anything about driving?” Max snorts, glancing at Billy. 

Damnit Max.

“Is there even space for everyone here? This place is tiny.”

“Fuck you, Wheeler, not all of us can live in goddamn mansions.”

The kid opens his mouth to retort, bristling with indignation, but Will interjects, stuttering a little in his haste, “I, um, I’d feel a little safer if everyone, you know, stayed in one place? At least for tonight?”

And that pretty much settles it. 

Once everyone mumbles their (in some cases reluctant) agreement, El crows “Sleepover!” and drags Max off to find spare blankets, leaving Billy sitting on the couch alone and wondering where the hell Steve is gonna sleep. For...no particular reason...other than…

Well.

It’s not like Mike was wrong, the trailer wasn’t built to house six teenagers and two twenty-somethings. Most of them are going to end up squished on the living room floor, and Max and El already called dibs on the couch, and...well, unless Steve wants to crash in the fucking kitchen there really isn’t anywhere else for him to go other than Billy’s room. He doesn’t even have a goddamn tub the guy could curl up in. 

And just because he’s wanted Steve Harrington in his bed since minute one, doesn’t mean he wants it right now. Not like this. 

Because like this he has to deal with Max’s side-eye, and El’s knowing look (the girl has been in his head, she literally knows everything about him), and Will’s weird wide-eyed interest, and worst of all, Steve not doing this because he wants to. 

In fact, judging by the way he blanches when Max suggests it, Billy’s room is the last place he’d like to be. Which is not really something Billy ever really wanted hard proof of, thanks. 

He’s dealt with enough in his life, he didn’t need to know exactly how repulsive Steve finds the idea of sleeping in the same room as him. 

“You’re welcome to sleep in your goddamn car if my floor isn’t good enough for you, Harrington,” he bites out, probably harsher than was warranted. 

Steve blinks at him, mouth falling open, eyebrows raised. 

“Oh my god, it’s too cold to sleep outside, Billy,” Max says, rolling her eyes. “Stop being such a dick.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. “Figure your shit out, I’m going to bed.” 

The silence he leaves behind is tense and awkward. 

He’s been laying in bed staring at the ceiling, moping and berating himself, for about ten minutes when the door creaks open.

“Hey, uh,” Steve’s voice is soft, uncertain, and Billy feels like even more of an asshole for snapping at him. “I’m just...gonna...crash on the floor. Um. Good night.”

This is punishment isn’t it. For being such a douche for so long. Now he gets to try and fall asleep knowing Steve fucking Harrington is laying nearby, sleepy and warm and out of reach. He listens to Steve shuffle around, getting situated, laying out blankets and trying to find a soft bit of carpet to lay on. Has to bite his tongue to keep from saying something stupid. Like offering up his bed. Or poking fun at how much Steve sighs when he’s getting comfortable (Because it’s dumb, not cute. Definitely not cute.).

It’s unclear how long they lay there in the dark, Billy watching moonlight cast the outlines of skeletal trees across the wall, listening to Steve’s quiet breathing to remind himself he’s not alone. That the shadows are just shadows and there’s no reason to be tense and sweating and—

Billy’s pretty sure it’s been long enough that Steve should be asleep, considering how tired he looked, so he tosses his blanket off and swipes the pack of cigarettes off his bedside table, hoping to god the floor doesn’t creak when he pads across the room. There’s no noise coming from the other room, so either the kids are asleep too or a miracle has occurred and they’re all just being really quiet. 

He slips out the side door, and takes a breath. The lake is too still, despite the wind. No self-respecting body of water doesn’t have waves. But it’s pretty enough, he supposes. Enough to make for a decent view while he smokes a cigarette.

Takes a couple tries to light up. His hands aren’t what they used to be, especially in the cold. Holding off a thirty-foot meat puppet bare-handed does that to a person, tears shit up that doesn’t heal right afterwards.

He’s about halfway through his cig when Steve joins him. Billy’s shoulders stiffen at the sound of footsteps, and he doesn’t relax at all when he realizes who it is. 

“Hey.”

Out of the corner of his eye Billy watches Steve lean against the porch railing beside him. He takes another drag before he looks over properly, keeping his expression as neutral as possible. “Fancy meeting you here.” 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Billy raises his eyebrows. Gestures with his cigarette and turns away again. “No shit.”

He can feel Steve’s eyes on him, and he resolutely ignores it. Stares out at the water and flicks cigarette ash over the railing. The wind picks up again and cuts through his thin shirt. Should’ve grabbed a fucking sweater. Not because the cold bothers him at all, but...well, because it doesn’t anymore.

He shivers when a completely-unrelated-to-the-weather chill runs down his spine.

“Soo…” Steve fidgets, and trails off awkwardly, his nonchalance painfully fake.

The corner of Billy’s mouth twitches, and he raises his cigarette to his lips, a flimsy excuse to hide his smile. 

“Did, uh. Did El choose the book, or…?”

He chokes on a mouthful of smoke. Doc Owens did tell him he shouldn’t have taken up smoking again. Though he was probably more concerned about Billy’s scarred lungs and than Steve Harrington-related hazards. 

Coughing definitely does hurt a lot more than it used to though. 

He flinches when Steve touches his shoulder, pats it, rubs a little—trying to help with the coughing, presumably—making Billy’s heart trip over itself. 

Once he’s no longer wheezing he wipes his eyes, and waves off Steve’s apologies, hoping the embarrassed flush on his cheeks isn’t too visible in the dim light. 

Steve’s hand stays where it is.

For several quiet moments Billy waits for him to withdraw but he doesn’t, and Billy finally meets his eyes. Which was probably a mistake. His heart skips again. He’s still not used to Steve looking at him like that. Soft and wide-eyed and concerned and…

God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Billy used to dream about getting this close without needing pretense, without having to pretend, getting to bask in the warmth coming off him and feel his breath on his skin and see something other than indifference—or worse, the hatred that came later—looking back at him. What he has now is...not quite what he wants. It lights him up but leaves him wanting. 

Another gust of wind makes a mess of Steve’s hair, locks falling into his eyes and sticking up in all directions, and Billy itches. Clenches his fist to stop himself from fixing it.

“Her dweeby little friends kept talking about it, and she couldn’t get through it herself. So...” Billy trails off, scratching his cheek and glancing away. “I may have had a copy laying around.”

Steve’s hand finally leaves its perch on his shoulder—both a disappointment and a relief—to brush the stray locks of hair out of his face. He grins at Billy, whole face lit up and stupidly pretty even as his fingers get stuck in tangles. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Billy bites the inside of his cheek. “My mom used to read it to me.” 

It’s easier to talk about her now. Mostly with El, who’s still the only person who knows the full story, but, well, he’s pretty sure at least Max and Steve have guessed the bits they weren’t told. Or, hell, maybe El told everyone everything during those months he was out of commission and everyone thought he was dead, and no one’s brought it up to his face because it would be awkward as hell. 

In any case, Steve’s expression softens. 

“Oh,” he says quietly. “So, you and her were pretty close, huh?”

If asked Billy would have blamed the sudden sting of tears in his eyes on the wind. “I guess.” A pause. “Not enough for her to take me when she left,” he mumbles, chewing his thumbnail and frowning out at the lake.

His cigarette hangs between two fingers in his other hand. 

“Billy…”

“Don’t. I’ve heard every condolence in the book, okay. It’s...it’s fine.”

For several long moments the only sounds are the dry rustle of leaves in the wind and Billy’s nail-biting. 

Then Steve slips his fingers around Billy’s wrist and tugs gently. Too surprised to resist, Billy lets him. Lets his hand be pulled away from his face, thumb pressed to his pulsepoint, lets him hold on for a beat longer than necessary before letting go. And Billy stares at him the whole time, lips parted, shoulders tense, waiting to see what Steve will do next.

What he does next is smile a little sad, and tilt his head. “It’s a bad habit, you know. Biting your nails.” 

“I don’t have any other kind of habit.”

“Hm,” Steve hums, “I don’t think that’s true.” 

Which is a weird thing to say, and a weird thing to get emotional over, and yet Billy kind of feels like he’s been punched in the chest.

He rubs at the knotted scar tissue that spiderwebs across his whole torso, and can’t help but wonder—not for the first time—if Steve’s perception of him might be a little blinded by the one good thing he’s ever done. He’s tried to be better since then, atone a little, but Steve’s confidence in him still feels unearned.

And all the work he’s put into getting his shit together might all be for nothing anyways, if some fucking slime monster decides to crawl down his throat again. If Will’s right and that thing is back...for all he knows the thing has it out for him too, after the shit he pulled at Starcourt. He thought he’d end up dead, he wasn’t exactly worried about making himself a target in the long run. 

But now...

Billy exhales slowly through his nose, eyes falling shut for a moment before he grits out, “I can’t do it again.” Steve blinks at him, nonplussed. “This,” he taps his scars, “The fucking. Mind Flayer bullshit. I can’t.”

“You…” Steve folds his arms across his stomach, hands clutching his elbows. It’s a nervous tic that makes Billy ache. Always makes his heart clench, but tonight that gets lost in the black hole of anxiety already twisting up his insides  “You won’t have to, I—we’ll protect you. If we stick together—”

“It’s not a guarantee.”

“No, but—”

“We don’t know anything about this alien shit, for all we know I was never really free of it, and—I just—promise you won’t let it use me again,” Billy’s voice breaks, and he clenches his jaw to try and hold it all back, the taste of bile in the back of his throat, the crushing weight of existential panic pressing in. 

Steve’s eyes widen, “What do you mean by that?”

“You know what I mean. Crash another car into me. Let your ex shoot me in the fucking head. I don’t care how, I need you to stop me.” He needs to understand, Billy’s eyes bore into him, willing him to understand.

But he shakes his head, face twisted up with horror, “I don’t think I can do that.”

Billy takes a step towards him, desperation bleeding into his voice, “Steve.” He blinks back tears. “Please.” 

“Don’t—” Steve looks away, curling in on himself, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, ask you to perform a public fucking service?” Billy spits, eyes stinging, face burning. He regrets the words once they’re spoken, but there’s no taking them back now. He’s talked with Owens about this sort of shit and he thought he was past it. 

Apparently not.

He deflates. Like a slap in the face, it stops him dead, turns his agonizing back inward where it fucking belongs. Wiping his eyes, he sighs. 

It’s too late to stop the puppy-dog eyes Steve’s giving him now though. The unreserved sadness in the way he’s looking at Billy is so overwhelming it’s almost palpable. “Is that really how you feel?”

Is it? He’s not sure anymore. It was for a long time. Long enough that he couldn’t remember feeling any other kind of way until El reminded him. But now…

He shrugs. “It’s...complicated. I—ah, shit!” His hand jerks, and the cigarette he’d been holding falls to the ground. That never used to hurt so fucking much. “Damn thing burnt me.” 

He sucks on the stinging knuckle, waiting for the pain to subside, tasting salt and ash, and looks back up at Steve.

They lock eyes.

Steve’s expression has closed off, his gaze still heavy, but with something else, sliding down Billy’s face with an intensity Billy’s not quite sure what to make of. He’s struck dumb by the attention (not something he usually has a problem handling), lips still wrapped around his finger but his mouth has gone slack.

It feels like a static shock, one crackling jolt of a moment, something sharp lancing through him, and then it’s over. Steve’s blinking, glancing away. Billy’s hand falls to his side. It would be like it never happened except he still feels charged, pent up, heart full to bursting and stomach in knots. 

Billy sighs, and rubs his eyes. “Let’s just...go back to bed.”

Wording, Billy. Wording. His cheeks warm a little, but he manages to keep his expression neutral as he turns and heads back inside.

He practically throws himself into his bed, curling up on his side and pulling the blankets around him, back turned to Steve. Sleep seems like a pipe dream at this point, but doing anything other than pretending to get some rest would involve talking to and/or looking at Steve, so. Not an option. 

But after he listens to Steve settle back into his little pile of blankets, the minutes crawl by, and Billy gets twitchy. Wants so badly to move, toss and turn and fidget, and say something, but doesn’t know where to start and doesn’t want to draw Steve’s attention, and—

God, this is so fucking stupid.

Billy rolls over. “Steve.”

“Yeah?” 

The room is silent for a beat. He shuffles around a little and the sheets rustle loudly in the quiet.  

“Would you get up here,” he says suddenly, all at once, demanding, scarcely believing what the fuck is coming out of his mouth. 

“...What?” Steve sounds a little breathless and it makes Billy’s stomach clench.

“Just...there’s enough room for both of us, alright.” Jesus christ. 

The lump of Steve and blankets on the floor doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak, for what seems like an eternity, and Billy’s about to brush it off, turn it into a joke, take it back, something, when—

“Okay.”

Oh.

What?

Oh god, he’s getting up. This is happening. Billy stares at his silhouette, the tense line of his shoulders, his awkward gait, and wonders why he’s agreeing to this if he’s so goddamn uncomfortable. 

Guess the floor is officially less comfortable than being in bed with Billy. Joy.

But then he’s sliding under the covers and Billy forgets to be bitter because his brain is mostly static at this point. White noise and his heartbeat thundering in his ears and the deafening creak of boxspring groaning under unexpected weight.

And Steve’s doing that thing again, sighing, little hums as he wiggles around getting himself situated, and Billy is dying. He thought he was being punished before, but now he’s sure, because this is ridiculous. No grown man should be that adorable. 

By the time he’s gotten himself comfy Billy is about ready to combust. 

It doesn’t help that he’s decided to lay down extremely close and facing Billy. It’s so intimate it hurts.

“Do you think you’ll actually sleep?”

Billy shrugs noncommittally. “Maybe.” He tries to make it sound more casual than it is. Like it’s a choice and not the sad fact that he’s too fucking anxious to relax. 

Seems he’s not the only one though, Steve keeps fidgeting, his face doing something weird Billy can’t quite see in the gloom. But he doesn’t have to see to recognize Steve’s tics.

“Spit it out,” Billy sighs.

“What did you mean. When you said it’s complicated?” Steve asks softly.

Ah.

“You really wanna get into this?” He sure doesn’t, but Steve nods and Billy’s fucking weak when it comes to giving Steve what he wants. “I meant that...I...used to feel like that. All the time. It was fucking relentless.” He thinks about rolling onto his back so he won’t have to look at Steve for this, but finds himself stuck, drawn in by the faint starlight reflected in Steve’s eyes. “But nowadays I’ve got...shit to hang on for, I guess. Doesn’t make it all go away, but it makes it easier.”

“Oh.” Steve wriggles a little closer, his hand landing in the space between their pillows. Right next to Billy’s hand. Close enough that he can feel him there, but not quite touching.

He doesn’t say anything else, which Billy’s grateful for. He’s got Doc Owens for the big speeches about how life is worth living, and it’s grating enough getting them from someone who’s literal job is to say that kind of shit. 

It helps. It does. But he can only handle so much.

Speaking of which.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says quietly. He’s keeping his hand too still for it to come across as casual, trembling with the effort. If he moved his pinky just a little they’d be touching, and he’s painfully aware of this fact.

“What for?”

“Earlier, when I...I was asking for a lot.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts, the blankets rustling as he shuffles around, but as much as he fidgets, his hand stays where it is. “Billy...I don’t want you to have to go through that again, but…”

Billy, on an impulse—with a feeling somewhat akin to stepping off a ledge without a parachute—hooks his pinky over Steve’s. In the dark he hears a soft intake of breath, can just barely make out the way Steve’s mouth falls open, moonlight casting shadows when his tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

“I know. It wasn’t fair to—”

“No, no,” Steve flips his palm upward and laces their fingers together, squeezing Billy’s hand. “It’s not that. You have every right to be scared, and...look, this whole thing is batshit crazy, none of us know how to deal with it.” 

Billy runs his thumb along the length of Steve’s index finger, marvelling at the contact, and the way his pulse flutters when the gesture is returned. It takes him a second to find his voice, “True, but you’ve never asked me to mercy kill you.”

Steve exhales, the ghost of a laugh, and it warms the back of Billy’s hand. He shivers, his whole arm tingling. “Billy, I haven’t gone through half the shit you have.” A pause. “I want to help. Anything you need, just...not that.” 

Anything. It catches in Billy’s throat, stops his heart for just a second, reminds him that they’re inches apart, in bed together. For the second time tonight he feels like he’s been punched in the sternum, and he goes rigid, relaxing only minutely when Steve squeezes his hand again.

“Careful, pretty boy. Saying shit like that might give a guy ideas,” he murmurs, gaze searching, wandering Steve’s face, the shadows cast by the soft fall of hair across his forehead.

“Oh yeah?” Steve pulls their clasped hands to his chest. His heart is racing, but his voice is steady, “Well, have enough ideas with no follow-through and a guy might think you’re all talk.”

Billy’s breath catches. The world stops. “You...you don’t want me to follow through.” 

The reality of the situation hits him like a train. Flirting is one thing, he’s always had a hard time keeping his mouth shut around Steve, but this is something he’d only ever regretted letting himself imagine because he knew he’d never have it. And now that it’s within reach...

“See, the thing is…” Steve slides a little closer. His knee brushes Billy’s thigh. “I really, really do.”

“I—” his voice breaks, mouth dry, throat closing up as he tries to swallow past the lump making it hard to breathe. 

“Billy,” Steve whispers, a hot puff of air against Billy’s lips. “Please.”

Fuck.

He surges forward—hard enough that their teeth click together—and his mouth muffles Steve’s gasp. The hand not cradled against Steve’s chest comes up to touch his cheek, fingertips caressing his jaw, coaxing him closer, sliding back to thread into his hair. 

Steve’s lips are plush and warm against his, curved into a smile that leaves Billy tingling, dizzy and drunk on sensations. The way his mouth tastes, the softness of his skin under Billy’s scarred palm, the way his heart twists when Steve reaches out to touch his chest.

He pulls back, and rests his forehead against Steve’s. His eyes stay shut and he just breathes. Soaks up the moment. 

“God,” Steve sighs, nuzzling their noses together. “Always knew you’d be good at that.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks quietly, fiddling with the stray locks of hair behind Steve’s ear. He’s feeling...raw. Vulnerable. It’s a fragile state of being, one wrong word away from breaking. Or a few right words away from fucking bliss, but that never seems to be how it goes for him. 

“Yeah, even when we didn’t like each other I wondered. Annoyed the hell outta me.”

“Steve…” He pauses, choosing his words carefully, “I always liked you.”  If his heart wasn’t already racing, it sure would be now. He braces himself for the worst.

But it doesn’t come. There’s a pause. Steve’s fingers curl into the front of his shirt. “Oh.” He presses a chaste kiss to Billy’s lips, lingering, before chuckling lightly. “That explains a lot actually.”

Billy’s cheeks burn. Yeah, he supposes it would. “You’re not...freaked out?” he ventures, hesitant. 

“Mm, nope.” He reaches up, brushes a stray curl out of Billy’s face. “Definitely okay with this.”

I love you.

The thought doesn’t shock him but the desire to say it out loud does. The way it lodges itself in his throat and sticks. He hasn’t said it to anyone—hasn’t wanted to say it to anyone—since his mother left. The precedent is intimidating, but…

Steve smells like honey and clean air, laying in bed with Billy, warm and pliant next to him tracing patterns in Billy’s scars, his gaze is fond, his smile is soft, and...and Billy’s in love.

He swallows. Pushes it down for now. 

He kisses Steve again. Slower. A gentle press of mouths, and another. Takes his time deepening it, teasing with his tongue. He waits for Steve to pull away, to decide that this thing is one thing too far, but it never happens. Steve lets him escalate, and gives as good as he gets. 

They’re both breathless and flushed and Billy’s riding high on the bubbling warmth in his chest, lightheaded from it. He slides his leg over Steve’s, straddling his thigh, pressing down, seeking friction. 

He shifts, rocking forward a little, and Steve moans, low and deep right in Billy’s ear.

They both freeze. Steve’s breath coming in ragged little bursts against the side of Billy’s face. 

“Pretty boy, as much as I’d love to hear more of that, no one else in the house does.”

“Jesus christ.”

“No need to bring him into it.”

“Shut up,” Steve laughs and buries his face in Billy’s shoulder. “Just give me a minute.”

“Aw, I get you all riled up, baby?” 

Steve slides a hand down, down, and palms Billy’s cock, drawing a short gasp from him. “Yes.”

They stay entangled the rest of the night, dozing in and out of consciousness, Steve pressing the occasional sleepy kiss to Billy’s collarbone. And...Billy’s not sure what will happen after tonight, but he knows it’ll be easier to deal with if he gets to keep this. Whatever this is. He doesn’t have the heart to ask, not yet, but for the first time in a while, he has hope.

[djokeery]

hold my heart and watch it burn (and i will hold on to you)

Or, alternatively, Steve reflects on the last three years of his life on Robin’s kitchen floor.

December 19th, 1985.

It was snowing, soft and quiet. Robin’s house was safe, sound, warm—Christmas lights were strung all along her pale yellow kitchen, making the already inviting space cozier than usual. Flour and sugar were dusted on every single surface you could see, and cookie cutters were lying everywhere else. Absentmindedly, Steve ran his fingers through his hair, definitely coating it with flecks of white. 

If you didn’t know him, or see the purple bruising around his left eye, you wouldn’t even suspect he’d just managed to save the world yet again. (Believe it or not, he won a fight this time around, too.) Three years of fighting creatures from alternate dimensions, and he figured he deserved at least one normal night. That’s why, when Robin suggested he come over to help bake Christmas cookies after he mentioned that he’d never done it before, he did. 

So, here he was, on timer duty, listening to Robin’s beat up radio alone while she cleaned herself up. The sugar cookies had roughly four minutes left and the room smelt like...home. Home. It was a word he’d come to understand in new ways, with the help of new people. 

It’s weird. Before he knew that monsters actually existed, he would’ve told you home was 1146 Norwood Lane. Nowadays, though, he’d tell you home wasn’t really a place—it was a feeling. Home was Dustin trying to educate him about Star Wars. Home was Lucas and Mike begging him to teach them how to drive. Home was dropping Max off at the arcade and giving her all the spare change he had. Home was something outside of King Steve’s castle, and the kingdom no longer existed. 

To be honest, he was starting to wonder if it ever really did.

He hummed along to “Everybody Wants To Rule The World” by Tears For Fears as it faded out, only to be met by the top 40 DJ greeting him.

“I’m Carl Jetson and you’re listening to B97! Here’s a new one for anyone spending this holiday season alone. This is “Last Christmas” by Wham!—good luck getting it out of your head.”

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart But the very next day, you gave it away This year, to save me from tears I’ll give it to someone special

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,”

Steve slid to the floor, further covering his apron in various baking powders in the process. 

A year ago, he spent Christmas alone, save for a visit from Dustin on Christmas Eve where he had to convince him that yes, his parents would be home in time for Christmas, so no, he wasn’t going to be alone, and yes, he would be fine by himself until they got there.

And he was. He was used to it. For the past nineteen years of his life, the rare days when his parents were home were painfully structured and quietly deafening. He preferred their absence, honestly. But ever since demogorgons ripped through the ceiling of his life, he found himself leaving every light in his house on every single night. Not because he was scared, he’d be damned if anyone ever found out that he was, but in case his parents might see when they decided to finally stumble back home. In case they decided to knock on his bedroom door and ask him if he’s alright after climbing the stairs. In case they decided to tell him they love him, fingers stroking his hair, after not uttering those very words in years.

He never really talked about it. How he felt cursed because no one ever loved him back. How, when he was at his lowest, he blamed Nancy for everything, even though he knew she had no control over any of it. 

Perfect, pretty, poised, princess Nancy. 

Steve sighed.

All he ever wanted was to feel something more. Something like the movies. And in the movies, stupid teenagers went to parties, were beyond popular, and almost worshipped in their immense normal-ness. He figured he had it in the bag. Everything.

He was good-looking, athletic—being captain of the baseball team was something he’d never admit he was actually proud of—had more than enough money to throw around whenever he felt like making it rain, was friends with the right people, the kids of his parents’ friends. His grades weren’t the best, but they also weren’t the worst, and he had the Harrington name to fall back on if sport scholarships weren’t enough to carry him through to a top school. He was set. He was set for his entire life without even blinking an eye.

But then his swimming pool turned into a graveyard and his reputation drowned. 

Regardless of however many beers he managed to swallow, the number of appearances he made at various parties, he couldn’t move past that. It followed him everywhere. It was a constant reminder that, even though he’d graduated from high school, he still dreamed about being a stupid teenager. He doesn’t miss King Steve, he really doesn’t, but at least King Steve made sense to everyone. 

People liked King Steve.

They responded to him, listened to him, followed him. The world was at his fingertips until it suddenly wasn’t.

He, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t an idiot. He heard all the whispers in the hallways. He knew people were talking. He just couldn’t explain the king’s downfall without mentioning tunnels and blinking lights and a baseball bat covered in nails, and he signed all of that away the moment Dr. Owens handed him a stack of forms to keep quiet.

And he has. He’s been good and everything King Steve wasn’t—real, genuine, kind, a dependable emergency contact.

The biggest difference of all, though, was that people loved this Steve.

That’s why he thinks that the gate is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. King Steve had to perish for Real Steve to have what he has now. And what he has now is everything. 

He has friends. Not just people his own age using him for his money and personal gain. Real friends. True comrades. People that have seen him at his worst and loved him just as much as they did when he was on top of the world. Friends that care about him. Friends that don’t lie, fight monsters, and always, always have his back.

People to remind him that he isn’t alone on his invisible throne, a throne that never existed at all, because there was never even a kingdom to rule in the first place.

He has Dustin. God, he loves that little shithead. 

Sometimes he thinks the universe really heard him when he was seven and begged for a friend. He thought Tommy H was his solution, since he moved to Hawkins a week after he pleaded to his bedroom walls. Tommy had been inseparable by his side since they met. But he wasn’t what he needed. Steve needed cleidocranial dysplasia, curly hair with a hat every day. Steve needed someone who saw through him, someone who saw him for him and who he could be. Someone who didn’t care that he was a Harrington, and someone who loved having him around.

Steve needed someone who’d die if he died. He needed a brother.

That’s why Steve Harrington would do it all over again if he had the chance. Not to change things, or fix things, but to do it exactly the same. 

He’d leave that note in Nancy’s locker, fall for her with every bone in his body, just for her to crush him and end up alone.

He’d break Jonathan’s camera, cause a scene in the alley downtown, and then swing a bat to save him in a heartbeat. He’d do it without even thinking. 

He’d do absolutely anything for the kids. His kids. He’d take plates to the head, kicks to the ribs, slaps to the face, whatever he needed to do to make sure they weren’t feeling any pain or in any danger. It didn’t matter if he got battered and bruised in the process. They were his number one priority. He’d never had anything to stand for until Dustin requested his assistance with Dart. It felt good to be needed, to be actually wanted.

God, it was something he could get used to.

He’s thinking about all of this, and about last Christmas, and how this year is so wondrously different, when he notices smoke billowing into the air, turning everything slightly hazy, bringing a gray cloud into the bright atmosphere, breaking the moment.

“Shit, shit, SHIT!” He’s up and on his feet faster than the speed of light, running straight towards the oven, so fast he doesn’t see Robin racing in from across the hall.

They collide into a tangled heap on the floor, laughter drowning out the radio and the timer that was buzzing its life away. (Because some things never change.)

“Harrington, I can’t even leave you alone for one minute without you causing a scene...give me some warning if you’re planning on burning the house down, okay?”

“Rob, I—” “All you had to do was open the oven and place the cookies on the stove. We went over this,” She was still laughing. Steve would do anything if she’d just keep laughing. It was his favorite kind of music.

He never wanted it to stop.

He took a breath and wiped his eyes. “I didn’t hear the timer go off,”

“What was that? I can’t hear you if you whisper, dingus.”

He tried again, a little louder. “The timer. I didn’t hear it.”

She looked at him like he’d grown two heads. “Are you deaf now and didn’t feel like telling anyone?”

What he really meant was thank you. Thank you for everything—for being his friend, for standing up for him, for trusting him with who she is, for taking the time to see that he’d never really been a king in the first place, and for still sticking around after that. For caring even more about him after that.

He wanted to ask her to never become a stranger he could recognize anywhere. To never be someone who leaves.

Because this, this was good. This was something he wanted forever. This was something he could hold and never shatter. This was something that actually mattered. 

“Steve, did you OD over there?” Robin’s voice snapped him back into reality and a familiar memory.

“No, sorry, I—just thinking, you know?” 

He didn’t have to say it. He could tell she knew and understood from the look on her face. She loved him back. She felt the same. He wasn’t alone. He wasn’t ever going to be again.

“Yeah. I know the feeling.” 

They both paused for a moment, the tiniest of moments, to remember the feeling, the unspoken “I love you, I’m so grateful you’re here right now and alive”, and then they stood up, Robin immediately grabbing their smoldering cookies from the still smoking oven.

They’re both shuffling around the kitchen, trying to determine if any of their blackened hard work is salvageable while simultaneously attempting to keep the smoke detectors from going off, when, in the middle of the commotion, there’s a series of knocks on the front door.

“Go do something useful and get that, won’t you?” Robin said it with a cheeky smile.

“For the last time, IT’S NOT MY FAULT I DIDN’T HEAR THE TIMER DIDN’T GO OFF,” Steve wiped his hands on his apron and stretched his arm out as he walked to the front door.

Out of every single person in the world, the one he least expected to see greeted him with a smile. He doesn’t realize it until she’s standing right in front of him and he sees her rosy face, traces of snow still in her hair, but then it’s all he can think about. It’s all he can feel.

“Hey, Dustin said I might find you here. Are you alright? Is that smoke?!” She motioned to his disheveled look and the smell of burnt sugar. Steve smiled to himself.

He’s okay. Honestly. Really. After two concussions, one broken heart, a scar from being interrogated by Russians, endless nightmares, after all of the bullshit—

“Yeah, Nance. I’m good.” And for the first time since his life turned upside down, he meant it.

[urdearestmom]

long distance (mileven week)

February 1990, Hawkins, IN

Jane “El” Hopper is the last one out of the library tonight. At first, Marissa had been reluctant to give her the job given she was Hopper’s kid and Marissa didn’t exactly have the highest opinion of the town’s chief, but she took a chance and El is quickly proving herself worthy. She loves being in the library, surrounded by words. She didn’t have them for so long that being somewhere full of words is still a wondrous thing. It probably always will be.

Anyhow, she’s got to lock up before she heads home for dinner, and even though it’s only just after six o’clock, it’s already dark out. It’s as cold as a Midwestern winter usually is, which is to say very cold. El wonders if it’s as cold where Mike is.

She almost drops her keys in the snow as she goes to open the Blazer she’d inherited from Hopper after the station bought a new one (Hopper had helped her repaint it a nice blue so she didn’t have to drive around in a truck with “HAWKINS POLICE” emblazoned across the sides), but she fumbles and catches them. The radio’s playing that one Phil Collins song as she pulls away from the library in the direction of her house.

Hopper’s not coming home until late, El knows he isn’t, but it doesn’t help to make her feel less lonely when she pulls up outside the dark house. It really sucks not having any of her friends in town. They’ve all spread out across the country: Max went back to San Diego, Will and Dustin to New York, Lucas to Seattle, and Mike to Connecticut. God, did it really have to be so far? Sometimes the only thing that keeps her from plunging into “the depths of despair”, as Dustin used to call it, is the fact that she’s going to see him soon.

Max and Lucas are the farthest away, but El has a totally different relationship with them than she does with Mike. Her need to see them and be with them is so much less pressing. That’s why, with Hopper’s help planning, El’s been saving money to take a trip to Connecticut. The thing is, Mike doesn’t know about it. And although it’s very hard to keep a secret from him, El promised herself she wouldn’t give it away.

She’s about to start washing dishes when the phone rings, and she knows exactly who it is. Mike always calls around this time. They usually only speak over the phone once a week because long distance calls are expensive, and even though El could just talk to her boyfriend over the psychic link she can create, she doesn’t like doing that. It’s draining.

They mostly send each other letters but Mike insists he’ll go insane if he can’t listen to her voice, so he calls once every Wednesday.

“Hello?”

El keeps the cordless phone Hopper bought recently hovering by her ear as she starts to wash her plate.

“Hey, El.”

“Hi, Mike.”

“What are you doing?”

El sighs. “Washing dishes. I’m home alone tonight.”

“That sucks. Hopper’s late again?”

“It’s winter. Lots of accidents.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mike agrees. “I miss you,” he adds somberly.

El scrubs harshly at a stain on the plate. “Me too. I’m lonely all the time.”

“Valentine’s is next week. I wish I could be there with you, it’ll be our first one we haven’t spent together.”

Mike sounds upset, and it’s this kind of thing that makes El just want to spill her secret surprise plans. She’s going to get there on Valentine’s Day, which is the Wednesday, but she’s got to leave on the Friday because Yale only allows guests for three days.

Which is better than nothing, El supposes, but she wishes it didn’t have to be like this at all.

She hears another voice in the background ask an unintelligible question, to which Mike responds, “My girlfriend, dumbass. I call her every week, you should know this by now.”

The voice laughs and says something else. Mike sighs. “I am so done with you. Can you believe my roommate still doesn’t think you’re real, El?”

El snorts. “You’re on the phone with me, how am I not real?”

“I mean he doesn’t believe the person I’m talking to is my girlfriend. He doesn’t think I could get one. Lack of faith, if you ask me!” He says the last part louder, clearly directed at the other person in the room with him.

El wants to laugh. He’ll be proven wrong next week. “Mike, I think we gotta go. Long distance, remember?”

“Right, right,” he says. “I just posted my letter this afternoon, so hopefully you’ll get it soon. I love you.”

“Love you too. Have a good night.”

There’s a click and Mike is gone. El sighs again and focuses on her dishes. Long distance sucks.

Wednesday morning dawns bright and early. It’s Valentine’s Day and there’ve been paper hearts and lovey-dovey shit stuck everywhere in the buildings on campus for the last few days. They make Mike feel like a middle schooler with no one to be his Valentine again. The only person he’d want to be his Valentine anyway is about 850 miles away, so he’s kind of screwed on that front. He just really misses her. He saw El at Christmas, but it’s been way too long already. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to survive the rest of college with her so far away.

His roommate, Eric, wakes him with a pillow to the face, poking fun at him for not having anyone to go to the off-campus party with later. Mike wasn’t going to go anyway, considering it’s Wednesday, but whatever.  

“Where’s your girlfriend now, huh Wheeler?” He teases.

Mike almost wants to punch him in the face. Today’s already going to be shitty, he doesn’t need this. “I told you she’s at home. Can you stop?”

Eric grins. “What was her name again? Eleven?”

Mike groans. “Yes, but she doesn’t like it. We don’t call her that.”

“You totally made that up! Who the fuck names their kid Eleven?” Eric has sat down on his bed again, kicking his feet up into the air.

“It’s a long story that I’m never going to tell you.”

“Yeah, because it doesn’t exist!”

Mike turns over and buries his face in his pillow. “Eric, I swear to god. Just because I only have, like, one picture of her doesn’t mean she’s fake.”

Eric snorts. “The girl’s obviously real, I just don’t think she’s your girlfriend. Girls like that don’t date guys like you, man.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Can you leave me alone now?”

“You probably write those letters to yourself, don’t you?”

“Why would I go to all the effort of doing that just to convince you that I have a girlfriend? I don’t care that much about your opinion, you know,” Mike retorts, turning his head to allow himself to breathe and glare at his roommate.

Eric was an okay guy at the beginning of first semester, but Mike had quickly gotten tired of being teased about his apparent singleness. Eric absolutely refused to believe that his nerdy roommate (who also wasn’t exactly conventionally attractive) could possibly be dating someone. Even after being shown the picture of her that Mike always kept in his wallet, and being witness to phone calls between them on more than one occasion, and seeing Mike writing letters, Eric could not and would not be convinced that El was really Mike’s girlfriend.

Mike thinks it might be because the fact that they’ve been dating since they were thirteen is kind of surreal, even to him sometimes. Especially to someone like Eric, who goes through girls like nobody’s business. Mike has seen him “date” five girls since they started school in September.

Eric narrows his eyes. “I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve seen people do the weirdest shit just because they’re embarrassed about something. You know, I haven’t wanted to say this, but I suspected it from the beginning. You just don’t want to admit you came to college a virgin, right? ‘Cause I’d be embarrassed if I were you.”

And he’s crossed the line. “Eric,” Mike says, finally sitting up, looking crazed with his hair sticking up every which way, “I literally could not give less of a fuck what you think about my virginity. It’s not any of your business, nor is it anyone else’s.”

Eric’s still looking at Mike as he gets out of bed. He shoves on the first shirt he sees and aggressively pulls on a pair of socks, not changing out of his pyjama pants. He only has one class today anyway, and he’ll have time to come back and change before he goes to work.

“Listen, man, I’m sorry if that offended you, I just think you might be going a little too far with this whole charade,” says Eric quickly. And wow, Mike just loves when Eric pretends to be concerned about him. He can’t fucking wait for next year so he can get a new roommate who is hopefully better than this one.

He can feel the anger rising and has to take several deep breaths in order to not blow up. Come on, Mike, you’re better than this… Mike grabs his key and shoves it in his backpack along with his wallet and the binder he needs for his class before rounding on the meathead behind him. “At least I’m not going around messing with girls the way you do. That’s what’s going too far. You treat them like shit and then you just dump them like they’re nothing. They’re people, asshole, and so am I. Watch what you say.”

He wrenches the door open and, noting that there’s no one currently in the hall, turns back to his dumbass roommate. “And for the record, not that it matters, but I’m not a virgin. Thanks for the concern, though.”

Mike makes sure to close the door as threateningly as he can without slamming it too hard. That ought to get the message through.

El decides that if she ever does this again, she’s flying. Driving from Hawkins to New Haven has been so tiring it’s ridiculous. The trip itself takes about thirteen hours, but she stopped every three for breaks, so she’s actually been on the road for closer to about fifteen hours and she’s hated every minute of it since hour four. She left at five in the morning, six in the time zone Connecticut is in, and it’s nearing nine at night. The sole thing that has kept her going all day is that at the end of it all, she’s going to get to surprise Mike.

El knows he works at a bookstore on campus, so she’s going straight there, hoping to arrive before he locks up and leaves. The store closes at nine, after all. But there’s traffic.

After much deliberation and the passage of the nine o’clock hour, El changes course and heads to the residence buildings instead. She doesn’t know which one Mike lives in, or what floor, or which room, but she has something almost like an inner compass that always leads her to him. He’s the magnetic north to her Earth. God, we’re such nerds.

It’s like an actual game of hot and cold, but instead of hot and cold it’s more of a pull. The pull is stronger when she’s close to Mike and weaker the further away she is, but it’s always there if she chooses to pay attention to it. They discovered it playing hide and seek when they were fourteen and have occasionally made use of it since, like now. El follows the pull to an old-looking building and sits inside the Blazer contemplating it before killing the engine.

Inside is much warmer, the yellow lighting casting a cozy glow over the stairwell. There’s a door on the other side leading to the ground floor, but El’s instincts are telling her upstairs is the right way to go. She stops in the third-floor hallway for a second before going left. A door opens and shuts behind her and she hears footsteps make their way to the main door and disappear down the stairs.

Two doors down from the end of the hall, El comes across a door with the names Eric & Mike written on the chalkboard hanging on it and she knows it’s the right one. She can hear muffled voices from inside, but she’s too excited to wait for them to stop talking. The door swings open almost immediately after she knocks, revealing a young man who is decidedly not El’s boyfriend. This must be Eric.

He gives her a sleazy grin. “Hello, pretty lady,” he says, raising an eyebrow in what El’s sure he thinks is an attractive way. In all honesty, it probably would be if El wasn’t strictly Mike-sexual. “What brings you here?”

El doesn’t have time to respond before she hears the most beautiful voice in the world speak instead. “Can you take her to the party with you? Don’t stay here.”

Even when his words are sharp, Mike’s voice is calming. It washes over her like a warm bath, steadying her nerves. She still has a hard time speaking to people she’s not familiar with. El just wishes Mike had already seen her standing there, but he’s rooting around in the closet space by his bed.

She clears her throat lightly and smiles. “I’m actually looking for my boyfriend,” she says, and she sees Mike pause.

Eric shoots a look at his roommate. “You won’t find him here,” he answers, followed by a derisive snort.

El smiles again. “I think I might. Mike?”

At this, Mike removes his head from his closet and turns around, and the look on his face is priceless. He looks so shocked that El almost wants to laugh at him, but she’s also so happy to see him herself that all she can do is allow her face to mold itself into an ear-splitting grin.

“El?” And it’s almost like that night all over again, except without the overwhelming stress of the situation they’d all been in the time. But all the same, El can feel tears build in her eyes and spill down her cheeks as the stupidly huge amount of love she feels for this boy threatens to have her implode on the spot.

She laughs wetly and holds her arms out. “Surprise?”

“Oh my god,” he says, tripping over himself to get to her. When he does, he envelops her in a hug so tight she almost can’t breathe. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

El wraps her arms around Mike just below his shoulders and buries her face in his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of the detergent his mom uses (that he’s taken the habit of using as well to college with him). It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world to have him close and be able to hug him like this. Hearing his voice over 850 miles of cables and hearing it in person are two very different things.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Mike asks breathlessly, pulling out of the hug but keeping his hands on her waist. They’re in their own world now, Eric forgotten in the corner.

“I wanted to surprise you for Valentine’s Day,” El replies, and she smiles.

Mike moves his hands to cup her face before he kisses her, and she’s melting. She hasn’t kissed him in two months and it’s like a thirsty man finding water in the desert. She needs this. She needs to be able to touch him and feel that he’s there, to know that he will be there when she needs him, just like she wants to be there when he needs her. That’s what their relationship has been since day one; being there for each other is the basis of how they care for one another.

El pulls away when she’s out of breath, her lips aching to be back against Mike’s, but she remembers that someone else is in the room. Eric is standing awkwardly behind Mike with wide eyes.

El smirks. “Do you believe him yet?”

Eric’s mouth works but words don’t come out. Must be quite a shock, then.

Mike wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her into the room, falling back onto his bed with a thump. “You can leave now, Eric. Have fun at the party,” he says, and then he does a sarcastic little wave and Eric quickly walks out the door, shutting it behind him.

A sigh escapes Mike. “Fuck him, ugh,” he remarks. “This morning he accused me of making you up because I didn’t want to admit that I’m a virgin. Which I haven’t even been in like, over a year, but okay, I guess.”

El wrinkles her nose and cuddles up to Mike’s side. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, Eric’s just a fuckwad who doesn’t understand when things don’t go the way he thinks they should.”

Mike leaves a feather-light kiss on the tip of El’s nose and smiles lovingly when he looks at her again. “I still can’t believe you’re actually here. How long are you staying?”

A yawn forces its way out of her. “Friday, ‘cause you said if I ever visited it could only be three days. My stuff is in the Blazer, I was trying to get to the bookstore before you finished work but there was traffic so I just came here instead.”

“Well,” says Mike, a yawn escaping him as well, “I need to go take a shower, but you can just stay here, you’re probably dead tired.”

El nods. “Driving all day.”

He kisses her again, more intimate than by the door because Eric had still been in the room, but still just so simple and beautifully amazing that El can’t help but sigh and chase after his face with her own when he moves away. She doesn’t catch him, though, because he gets up.

“Where’re your keys?” Mike asks. “I’ll go out to the truck and get your stuff when I’m done showering.”

“Here,” she answers, pulling them out of her back pocket and throwing them for him to catch as she sits up and removes her coat.

“Okay,” says Mike, sweeping his stuff and her keys into a towel and wrapping it all up, “I’ll be back soon. You can go to sleep.”

He’s about to go into the hall when El calls him back.

“What?”

“...can I just have one more kiss?”

Mike rolls his eyes but walks back over to her and grants her wish. The press of his warm and familiar lips against her own is gratifying after so long without it. “I love you so much,” he says. “But I need to shower and you need to sleep.”

El pouts. “Okay.”

Mike frowns. “Don’t give me that face, it’s making me want to kiss you more.”

She grins. “I’m not complaining.”

He rolls his eyes again. “Of course not. Go to sleep. ”

“Fine, dad.”

El lies down and tucks herself under the covers of his bed, watching as he waits to make sure she’s alright before flipping the light switch and heading out.

“I love you,” she whispers through the dark.

“I love you too,” Mike whispers back.

“Love you more.”

“Oh my god, El, not this again!”

“But it’s true!”

“Is not!”

“Is too!”

“We love each other equally!”

“Do we, though?”

“You know what? This isn’t happening. Good night.”

[hannahberrie]

Everybody Talks | Chapter 8: Study Buddies

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairings: Mileven, Lumax  Rating: K WC: 8557 Summary: Mike enlists El’s help to try and figure out what happened at Jennifer Hayes’ party. 

[AO3] Chapter Selection: [1][2][3][4][5][6][7]-8-[9][10][11][12][13][14][15][Epilogue] 

Monday morning at Hawkins High, Jennifer Hayes’ party is still the only thing that everyone’s talking about. Everyone’s whispering about how crazy the whole thing was. How you just had to be there. How, after the fight died down, the cops were called and all hell had broken loose again.

The cops hadn’t been able to tell what caused the power outage, but they were able to arrest the underaged drunk kids that were stupid enough to stick around.

Evidently, they were also able to contact Mr. and Mrs. Hayes.

According to the rumors, Jennifer Hayes is now officially grounded until, like, college (news to which Will replies, voice completely flat, “Oh, no —  no more parties”).

Despite all that, the drama doesn’t stop there.

Monday afternoon, word gets around that Greg McCorkle basically had a mental breakdown in the school parking lot. Apparently, someone, at some point during the day, spray-painted some pretty colorful language onto the side of his car — no pun intended.

During lunch, most students rush outside to see it for themselves. The chaos of the all the clamor makes it nearly impossible for Mr. Coleman, the principal, to even tell what’s going on, let alone to start apprehending suspects — though, according to what he shouts as he tries to break up the crowded parking lot, he has ‘a pretty good idea’ who did it, he just has ‘to prove it.’

“Do you think he really knows?” Will asks as the guys shuffle back inside. “Who did it, I mean.”

“Nah, he’s full of shit,” Lucas scoffs.

“Almost as much shit as the ones written all over Greg McCorkle’s car,” Dustin quips, earning a gleeful round of snickers from his friends.

Later Monday afternoon, when school lets out, Mike still doesn’t know who painted Greg’s car.

At least, he doesn’t until he starts to bike home.

Mike takes a shortcut around the back of the school, as it avoids the chaos of trying to bike through a crowded parking lot filled with asshole seniors and their dangerously fast cars.

As Mike comes around the back, he hears a noise: the sound of small objects knocking into metal, their rattle echoing.

He looks over and spots someone in a gray hoodie tossing a couple cans of spray paint into the giant dumpster behind the school. They’re a little shorter than the dumpster, so they have to hop in place a little in order to successfully chuck the empty cans inside.

Mike frowns, bringing his bike to a skidding halt. He’s seen that hoodie before.

The figure turns around at the screech of his bike tires, and even though she’s standing several feet away, Mike recognizes Max at once.

Their eyes meet.

Mike’s jaw drops.

Max freezes, one last empty spray-paint can still in hand.

Mike glances at her, the dumpster, the can of spray paint, and back at her again.

Well...it’s not like it doesn’t make perfect sense.

He keeps staring, unsure of what to do.

Max looks startled, scared even, and she throws him a pleading look.

Please don’t tell.

Mike’s mouth snaps shut and he quickly gives her a reassuring smile.

Never.

Max softens, smirks, and turns to toss the last can into the dumpster.

She turns back to look at him, they exchange a single, mutual nod, Mike bikes off, and neither speaks of the incident from that day forward.

Monday night at the Wheeler’s, Mike still can’t fall asleep. Then again, he hasn’t really been able to since Saturday. Every time he closes his eyes, he’s right back in Jennifer’s suffocating, stiflingly hot living room. The fight breaks out, the lamp is thrown, and then it all comes to a screeching halt.

Over and over and over again.

Mike’s eyes open. It’s pitch black in his room, and, according to his digital alarm clock, well after midnight.

He tosses onto his side, trying to force himself to fall asleep, but it doesn’t work. His mind just keeps going back to that lamp. He can’t get the image of it — floating, defying everything that he knew about physics — out of his head.

The whole thing is just so weird and doesn’t make any sense.

Mike tosses and turns for a few more moments before giving up. He crawls down from the top of his bunk bed and starts pacing around his room, trying to get his mind working.

There had to be some kind of explanation, right? Some rational, scientific reasoning?

But—

Why did it just HOVER before falling? Why were all the lights flashing? And what was that sound?

Mike drags a hand through his hair, frowning in frustration. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

His gaze darts about his bedroom as he paces, as if he’ll find the answers to his questions hidden somewhere amongst old comic books and science fair trophies.

In a way, he does.

His eyes land on one of his most prized possessions, a framed commemorative poster for The Empire Strikes Back. His dad gave it to him for his 10th birthday, and even though Mike is sure that his mother played a big role in choosing the gift, it’s reassuring to know that there was at least one point in time in which his father acknowledged his interests.

But when Mike looks at the poster now, he’s not thinking about his dad.

The Force.

Okay, so, of course, Mike knows that the Force technically isn’t real. But what if what had happened at the party was supernatural in some other way? What if it was beyond scientific understanding?

Mike’s eyes widen as he considers this further. His pacing stops as he freezes in place, mind officially blown.

Holy shit.

He has to investigate this. He has to. But how? He needs help.

His gaze moves to his nightstand. The completed Rubik’s cube is still resting there, just as he’d left it weeks ago.

He knows exactly who’ll understand.

“Sorry guys, but I’m going to have to call off A.V. for today,” Mike tells the guys over lunch.

“But we always have A.V. Club on Tuesdays,” Will frowns, looking concerned, “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, everything’s ok!” Mike insists, “I just…uh…”

“You just what?” Lucas asks.

“Uh…”

“Give him a minute,” Dustin smirks, “He’s gotta think of an excuse first.”

“I’m not making excuses!” Mike insists. He hesitates as he contemplates what to say, but then, remembering his cardinal rule, decides that he shouldn’t lie to his friends. “I have to go to the library after school.”

“Why?!” Lucas exclaims, brow furrowed in confusion.

Mike shrugs. “To study.”

“Study what?”

As much as Mike values honesty, he’s not opposed to sometimes, when necessary, leaving out small details. Details that, if shared, would make his friends tease him for the rest of the day. Rest of the year, actually.  

Said details included that he was going to the library to study supernatural activity with El Hopper (who he may or may not have a crush on).

“Stuff for science,” Mike explains, which isn’t a lie, not really.

“Like what?” Dustin asks.

“Physics.”

“You’re in Biology,” Will points out.

“Well, I want to study physics!”

“Why?” Dustin counters.

“For fun!”

“Whatever, man,” Lucas says, shaking his head. “But we need to stop slacking off. We still have to finish our Homecoming project, remember?”

At the beginning of the year, before Mr. Coleman busted them for selling test answers, he approached the A.V. Club with a request. He wanted them to make a promotional video for the homecoming football game that featured highlights from past seasons.

“If it’s good enough, we might even submit it to the local news!” He gushed excitedly.

The boys eagerly accepted the project. Considering that they had to fight to be featured in the yearbook last year, they were desperate for recognition. Plus, as Lucas had eagerly pointed out, Troy would totally lose his shit if something they made was featured on the news.

Now, it’s over a month later and, after long hours of sorting through endless film reels of nothing but football, the boys’ passion for the project is pretty much shot. The homecoming football game is only two weeks away, and yet they still haven’t even come close to finishing.

“I know,” Mike frowns, “We’ll finish it, I promise!”

“The news, Mike,” Dustin says, slapping a hand down on the lunch table for emphasis, “The. News. We’re going to be famous!”

“We’re not even going to be in it,” Will reminds him.

“Still! Everyone will see it, and then we can tell them that we made it, and then we’ll be famous.”

“Not if we don’t finish it,” Lucas reiterates.

“We will!” Mike repeats, “How about we meet tomorrow instead? Does that work?”

The other three all glance at each other before nodding approvingly.

“As long as we get it done,” Will shrugs.

“Alright, tomorrow then,” Mike says definitively. In retrospect, he could have easily kept the A.V. Club meeting and gone to the library tomorrow…

…but that would just mean another sleepless night spent tossing and turning over answers he didn’t quite have. He needs to figure things out now, before he completely loses his mind.

The conversation concludes with the ring of the school bell. As lunch ends, the cafeteria becomes a flurry of activity. The guys pack up their lunches and go their separate ways, each headed off to their 6th-period classes.

Even though Mike knows that he’s going to see El in Biology, he wants to ask her before class starts — mainly because he’s scared he’ll lose his nerve otherwise.

Even though the school hallways are as crowded as usual, Mike is still able to spot El. He recognizes her hair, slicked back as always, curling at the ends. She’s wearing the same flannel shirt that she wore when they first met in detention, though she has a different band tee paired with it.

He hasn’t talked to her since their phone conversation on Sunday, a conversation that he’s admittedly played back in his head several times. It hadn’t lasted long — after El promised him that everything was okay, the conversation ended with a few offhand questions about their upcoming Biology assignments.

But still. They’d had time to talk, just the two of them, without his friends attempting to embarrass him in the background. And now, hopefully, they’ll get a second chance.

He sees her walk to her locker and start turning the padlock.

He takes a deep breath, readying himself.

Paladin, he reminds himself, trying to bolster his own confidence. He’s a leader. El believes in him.

With that in mind, Mike walks over to her, trying to look as casually suave as he can. El doesn’t see him approaching and even when he comes to a stop beside her locker, she’s still distracted with getting out her books.

Mike clears his throat. “Uh, hey!”

El glances up before jumping back slightly, looking startled. “Mike!”

“I’m sorry!” Mike apologizes hastily, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“You didn’t scare me,” El blushes, not looking directly at him.

“Well, that’s good!” Mike replies, his own cheeks starting to turn pink. “I just…uh…”

“What?” El asks, gaze meeting his. Her eyes look so much larger when they’re surrounded by the black eyeshadow she always wears. It makes her stare a little intimidating.

“I wanted to ask you something?” Mike asks, hating how pitchy his voice gets towards the end of the sentence. He can’t help it. He’s nervous. It doesn’t help that he can’t quite read her facial expression, either. He can’t tell if she’s nervous, suspicious, angry, or curious.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” Mike echoes, taking another steadying breath.

He hesitantly steps closer to her. El’s eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t step back. Instead, she follows his lead and leans in, cheeks bright pink.

“So, do you remember how we were talking about what happened at Jennifer’s house?” Mike asks, voice low, “With the lamp?”

“Yes?” El whispers back.

“Well, I was thinking about it over the past couple days, and the whole thing just doesn’t add up, right?”

“Right,” El echoes nervously.

“Well, I was thinking that maybe, it was like, something...something...”

El eyes him. “Something...?”

“Supernatural,” Mike finishes hastily.

“Supernatural?”

“Yeah, you know, like paranormal,” Mike explains. “It means that it goes against the laws of nature, or normality.”

“I know what it means,” El defends, “I just...why are you telling me?”

“Because you’re the only one that believes me!” Mike reminds her, “All my other friends think that I was just seeing things.”

“But you...weren’t,” El says carefully.

“Exactly! But I need to prove it! I wanna do some research and see if I can dig up any more information about stuff like this. You know, like weird stuff.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah! So, I was hoping, that maybe, if you’re free, we could go to the library after school today?” Mike asks, voice getting a little pitchy again. It’s starting to get embarrassing how nervous he sounds. “I mean, only if you want to, that is. I just thought it’d be nice to have someone else there to help and talk things through with.”

El hesitates. “I’m not sure,” she says, looking away.

“Please?” Mike pouts, giving her what was hopefully his best puppy-dog eyes.

El blushes. “I guess so,” she relents shyly.

“Awesome!” Mike grins. “Why don’t you meet me at the bike rack after school gets out?”

“Okay,” El nods, cheeks still pink.

The warning bell rings and Mike realizes he doesn’t have any supplies for Biology yet.

“Aw, shit,” he groans, “I gotta run to my locker, but I’ll see you in class, okay?”

“Okay!” El repeats, and once again, he can’t quite read whether or not she’s excited or anxious. Maybe it’s a combination of both.

Either way, she agreed to spend time with him, and that alone has Mike beaming with excitement.

She said yes. She said yes and she believed him and she’s like, the coolest girl ever. He can barely believe it.

The last two classes of the day pass by in a blur. Mike spends most of them watching the clock, counting down the seconds until school lets out. When it finally does, he hurriedly packs up his things and races outside to the bike rack, not wanting to accidentally miss El.

His friends stop by to pick up their own bikes, Will to recommend some good physics books he’s heard of, and Dustin and Lucas to warn him to not get too invested in any “weird shit.”

A few minutes after they leave, El exits the school and approaches Mike.

At this point, it’s not surprising in the slightest that Mike’s heart starts doing cartwheels. He realizes that it’s a feeling he’s just going to have to get used to.

“Hey, El!” Mike says excitedly as she approaches him.

“Hi, Mike,” El murmurs, giving him a small smile.

“So, are you ready to go?”

“Go?”

“To the library?”

“Isn’t that right here? At school?”

“I was thinking,” Mike replies, flustered, “That we could go to the public library. I don’t think our school has enough books on supernatural stuff.”

“How are we going to get there?” El asks, confused.

Mike starts to blush. “I was...uh...thinking that I could bike us there?”

El blinks at him.

Oh, god. She probably thinks he’s a total wasteoid. What kind of dweeb still rode a bike around, anyway? He can’t even drive and now El probably thinks he’s completely lame for it. Why was this a good idea again?

“Or not,” Mike mutters, looking down at his feet, “I dunno, I’m sorry. I was just being weird.”

“No!” El pipes up quickly.

Mike looks back up in surprise. “No?”

“You’re not weird,” El explains, “I just didn’t know.” She moves closer to him, stopping only when she’s standing right before him.

If Mike had thought that Jennifer Hayes had this otherworldly aura, it’s nothing compared to how El makes him feel. It’s ridiculous, really, considering that she was hanging onto him for most of Saturday night, but nevertheless, when she comes to stand in front of him and cocks her head up to meet his eye, he’s completely awestruck.

“Let’s go,” El says.

“Um,” Mike replies stupidly.

El gives him a confused look, which is enough to make Mike snap out of it.

“Yes!” He bursts, blushing bright pink. “I mean, yeah, let’s get going.”

He turns and mounts his bike, then pats the back of the seat, inviting El to get behind him.

She does. It’s a tight fit, especially since they’re both wearing backpacks and Mike’s bike is already on the smaller side, but they manage to make it work. As she situates herself on the seat behind him, her torso presses into him, her arms wrap around his sides, and her fingers curl into the sleeves of his navy windbreaker. Being that he’s a few inches taller than her, their size difference is noticeable even when sitting. Her head comes to a stop around his neck area, so when she speaks, her voice sounds slightly muffled.

“Ready!” She announces.

Mike nods, pretty much unable to speak at the moment. He takes off biking, making sure to keep a good balance.

The bike ride is mostly quiet, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Quite the opposite, actually. Having El snuggled up beside him is definitely the most comfortable feeling in the world. Did thinking that make him a weirdo? Probably.

The ride doesn’t take long, and within 15 minutes they come to a stop in front of the Hawkins public library.

“Sorry we had to bike,” Mike apologizes as he dismounts the bike, “Next summer, I’m gonna get my license and save up for a car.”

El gets off the bike too, tucking a strand of wind-swept hair behind her ear. “I liked the bike,” she mumbles shyly.

“Really?” Mike gapes.

El shrugs.

“Oh,” Mike blushes, “Well, that’s good, I guess.”

El smiles at him, which only causes him to blush even more. When he manages to speak again, his voice sounds embarrassingly hoarse.

“Well, let’s go inside,” He instructs.

“Right,” El replies, face falling slightly.

Mike leaves his bike tucked between some bushes before leading the way up the front steps of the library. He makes sure to dash ahead and grab the door first, holding it open for El.

“Thank you,” El replies, though she only seems partly aware of what’s going on. She’s completely captivated by the impressive architecture of the library. Her gaze keeps darting about sporadically, taking it all in.

“You’re welcome,” Mike modestly replies anyway.

When they enter the library, they’re met with the distinguished smell of old wood and books that’s somehow both comforting and unpleasantly musty at the same time. Their sneakers squeak against the checkered tiled floor. This causes the librarian, seated front and center at the main desk, to look up at them, perturbed. When she recognizes Mike, however, she softens.

“Michael!” She smiles, voice hushed. “How good to see you!”

“Hey, Marissa,” Mike smiles back.

“I see you brought a friend with you,” Marissa remarks, looking over to El.

“Oh, yeah,” Mike replies, turning to El, “This is El Hopper, she’s my...uh...my—“

Somehow, ‘crush’ doesn’t seem to be the appropriate response here. Thankfully, El steps in for him.

“Friend,” She finishes, and Mike nearly dies of happiness right then and there.

Friend. They’re friends. She said it and they’re friends.

“Yeah!” Mike replies eagerly, “We’re friends!”

“Aren’t you the Chief’s daughter?” Marissa asks, looking El over.

“Yes,” El nods.

“Huh,” Marissa replies simply. She keeps giving El the look-over, and Mike can’t tell if it’s a good or bad thing. Either way, he and El have business to attend to.

“Do you guys have any historical texts on any paranormal or supernaturally significant phenomena?” Mike says, trying to sound as professional as possible. In reality, he’s just throwing in as many buzzwords from Ghostbusters as possible.

Marissa eyes him. “Check the records,” she offers, motioning to the long row of filing cabinets to her left. “Maybe we’ll have something.”

“Thanks!” Mike grins.

Marissa nods and brings a finger to her lips, reminding him to stay quiet.

Mike and El walk over to the filing cabinet. It’s quite massive in scale — at least 9 compartments tall by 12 wide. Each drawer is filled with filing notes on old newspapers articles, sorted by topic and publication.

As Mike begins to scan the label of each compartment, El leans in close to him.

“How do you know her?” She whispers, glancing back at the librarian.

“Marissa?” Mike asks, to which El nods. “I’ve known her forever. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid. The guys and I like to do research for our Dungeons and Dragons campaigns here. We like to make sure they’re like, super historically accurate.”

“What’s Dungeons and Dragons?”

“It’s a tabletop RPG,” Mike explains.

El’s brow furrows in confusion.

“Like, a board game,” Mike explains patiently, “Where you play as a character and get to make your own stories and stuff.”

“Oh,” El smiles understandingly, “That sounds fun.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Mike brags, “I’m the Dungeon Master, so I plan a lot of campaigns. My best one took over 10 hours to finish, it was so sweet! It took forever to plan though. I had to spend a lot of time here, to make sure all my historical weaponry was accurate and everything. Sometimes the guys come here with me and we just spend the whole day reading about random stuff.”

“I’ve never been here before,” El admits, glancing around.

“You’ve never been to the library before!?” Mike exclaims in astonishment.

El shrugs.

“How is that even possible!?”

Marissa looks up from her desk to give Mike a warning shush.

Mike and El give her apologetic smiles before turning back to each other.

“Seriously, how have you never been here?” Mike whispers.

“My Dad gets me all my books,” El whispers back, “And I don’t read a lot.”

“What do you do for fun, then?” Mike asks curiously.

El thinks for a moment. “Max and I listen to music. We go to the records store a lot. Sometimes we watch movies and TV.”

“What kinds of movies?”

El hesitates. “Halloween.”

“Isn’t that movie really scary?”

El nods. She glances around the library nervously before leaning in closer to Mike. “I hate it,” she whispers, “But don’t tell Max.”

The whole thing reminds Mike of El’s previous Star Wars confession, and he can’t help but smile.

“Okay, so, what kinds of movies do you like, then?” He asks teasingly, raising an eyebrow.

El bites down her on lower lip and glances up at him shyly. “Don’t laugh,” she warns him.

“I won’t!” Mike assures her.

“I like….” El replies, voice mumbled, “Sixteen Candles.”

“Sixteen Candles?!”

“…And the Breakfast Club.”  

“The Breakfast Club!?”

Marissa shushes them again, so Mike and El lower their voices.

“What?” El asks, looking worriedly at him.

“It’s nothing!” Mike insists, “I just…I didn’t know you liked that kind of stuff. Like, romance stuff.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” El inquires curiously.

“Because,” Mike hesitates, “I mean, like, just based on what most people think of you.”

“What they think of me?”

“Like, how you fit into the high school hierarchy,” Mike explains, though as soon as Dustin’s coined phrase leaves his mouth, Mike realizes how stupid he’s starting to sound.

“The hierarchy?” El echoes, brow furrowed.

Yeah, this was turning into a disaster. Mike decides to salvage the situation as best as he can by changing the subject.

“You know what, never mind, actually,” Mike quickly amends, “I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

El gives him a small, albeit slightly confused, smile. “Okay.”

“Let’s just start looking for information,” Mike instructs, turning his attention back to the filing cabinet. “Why don’t you start looking through the Chicago Tribune, and I’ll take the New York Times?”

“Okay,” El mumbles, looking a little uncomfortable.

They sort through the files together. Mike pulls out anything that could even be loosely related to paranormal activity, no matter how insignificant or mundane it seems. El pulls out a few things here and there, but not many.

“Did you find anything good, yet?” Mike whispers to her as he moves onto the New York Post.

“No,” El replies quickly, shutting the compartment for the Tribune. “Just boring stuff.”

Mike eyes her. He can’t help but feel like she’s acting a little weird. Jumpy, even. But a moment later, she’s giving him a reassuring smile, coming over to help him sort through the Post, and any uneasy feeling of his is forgotten.

They pull as many files as they can. Because Marissa knows Mike so well, she knows that he’s a ‘responsible young man with a good head on his shoulders.’ Consequently, she allows the two to use the microfilm readers to examine the articles.

The readers are located in a quiet corner in the back of the library, secluded from the other patrons. Mike and El push two chairs together and get situated in front of one reader. One by one, they start going over all of the newspaper articles they picked out, eyes straining to read the inverted text.

Mike is desperate for answers, but the newspaper articles come up blank every time. It’s mostly a lot of tall tales and exaggerated ‘eye-witness’ accounts that add up to nothing more than flashy headlines.

El stays silent for most of the time, slumped back in her seat. She’s wearing her blue braided bracelet again, and as Mike quietly reads off articles to her, she absentmindedly turns it in circles around her wrist.

“I can’t find anything,” Mike scoffs after a long period of time. “It’s all nonsense.”

“Maybe we should stop,” El offers.

“No! We can’t stop!” Mike insists, turning to look at her.

“Why not?”

“Because! I need answers. We need answers. There was something strange that happened at that party, I just know it. The cops couldn’t figure out what caused the power outage — don’t you think that’s weird?”

“I don’t know,” El mumbles.

“It is!” Mike continues, “People blow fuses all the time, that shouldn’t be hard to figure out, and yet they couldn’t! They don’t know! They don’t know because it’s something they’ve never seen before, something that no one has!”

“Like what?” El asks, starting to sound agitated. Her brow is furrowed as she gives him a serious glare. “What, Mike?”

“I don’t know!” Mike exclaims, “Something beyond scientific explanation! Something paranormal, or supernatural, or telekinetic, or—“

“Stop.”

Mike looks at her indignantly. “Stop? Why?”

“Just stop!” El repeats. She takes a hesitant breath, suddenly sounding more frightened than angry.

Mike pauses, giving her a worried look. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” El insists.

“Then why do you look upset?”

El shakes her head. “I’m not.”

“Okay, well, you obviously are.”

“I just—“ El stops herself and pauses for a moment, “I don’t think it’s worth it.”

“What isn’t worth it?”

El motions to the microfilm reader. “All this research for something you might not have really seen.”

“Might not have really seen?” Mike repeats, heart sinking. “I thought you said that you believed me!”

“I do!” El insists.

“It doesn’t sound like it!”

“I’m sorry!”

“So, which is it then? Do you believe me or not?”

El takes a sharp breath. Her eyes close, and for a moment Mike wonders if something is seriously wrong, but then she releases her breath and turns to look at him.

“I...I believe you, Mike,” she says slowly.

“Really?” Mike asks suspiciously.

El nods. She carefully reaches out to place her hand over his, and he’s pretty sure that his brain short circuits for a moment. With a gentle push, she moves his hand away from the microfilm reader. “It’s just...the party was bad, Mike. Really bad. I...I don’t want to remember it. Do we have to talk about it all the time?”

Mike instantly feels like an idiot.

El had just lived through what was probably the worst night of her life, and all that Mike had done for the past three days is constantly remind her of it. No wonder that she’s looked so uncomfortable this whole time!

“Oh my god,” Mike groans, moving away from her touch. He slumps back in his chair, desperately wishing he could just disappear. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” El replies quietly.

“No, it isn’t!” Mike laments, “It isn’t! That party must have been terrible for you, and I just keep talking about it, and making you think about it, and just being a total moron about it!”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Still!”

Before El can respond, she’s cut off by the sound of clinking heels against the tiled floor. The two glance up to see Marissa storming over to them, looking absolutely livid.

“You two!” She snaps, hissing furiously, “What is it with all the noise?!”

Mike shrinks back in his seat. “I’m sorry!” He apologizes earnestly. “We got carried away!”

“I’m very disappointed in you, Michael,” Marissa scolds, “You know better than to make a commotion in here, and yet, I could hear you two going back and forth all the way from the front desk!”

“I’m sorry!” Mike says again. He’s not sure what else he can say.

Marissa lets out an angry huff of air before taking a deep breath. She straightens up, composes herself, and gives them both warning glares. “Keep it down,” she says gravely.

“We will!” Mike nods, “We promise!”

Marissa only gives him another serious look before turning on her heel and marching back to the front desk.

Mike waits for her to leave before turning back to El.

“That was terrifying,” he jokes, keeping his voice low.

“I should go,” El murmurs in response, not looking at him, “It’s getting late.”

Oh.

Mike’s shoulders slump as he feels an overwhelming sense of defeat. He glances out the window and is surprised to see that it is pretty late — the blue sky is fading into a deep purple hue as the streetlights flicker on. They’ve been here longer than he thought.

“Okay,” Mike mumbles. He turns to glances over at El anxiously. “Do you want me to bike you home?”

“It’s okay,” El deflects. She stands up from their table and slips her backpack over her shoulder. “My house isn’t far.”

“Are you sure? It’s kinda dark.”

She nods. “I’m fine.”

Mike frowns worriedly. “Alright, then.”

El gives him a somber, half-hearted smile. “Bye, Mike.”

Mike just nods.

She leaves then, sneakers still squeaking against the floor until she exits the building.

He’s left alone, surrounded by microfilm files, face illuminated by the glow of the reader’s screen.

Though he’s not sure what, he knows that he’s definitely screwed something up.

On Wednesday, the guys host a make-up A.V. Club meeting. As always, they meet in what has to be the smallest room at Hawkins High. The space just barely fits their film equipment, repair tools, projectors, TV, landline phone, and four desks that they’d “borrowed” from other classrooms. It’s so cramped that the room often feels like a glorified closet than anything else, but regardless, it’s theirs.

Today, the desks are situated around the TV. A recording of the Hawkins High homecoming game of ’81 is playing on the screen. It has to be the millionth VHS tape of football footage that the guys have watched — consequently, they’re all slumped back in their seats disinterestedly.

Mike is trying to remain focused, but it’s all so boring. It also doesn’t help that he can’t stop worrying about El. She hadn’t looked his way once during Biology today, and after class had ended, she’d taken off in a hurry.

Mike had considered asking Max if everything was okay, but that seemed a little too forward. Plus, despite the moment they’d shared Monday, he was 99% certain that if he whined to Max about whether or not El was mad at him, Max would laugh right in his face.

The whole thing is so complicated and confusing. Mike’s not sure what he should do about the whole situation, so he instead focuses his attention on something he does understand — A.V.

“Maybe we can use this clip,” Mike says tiredly. He leans forward, reaches out across his desk, and presses pause on the TV. “I think that might have been a good play.”

“Everyone started cheering,” Will remarks, idly drawing in his sketchbook. “So, that means it has to be good, right?”

“Who cares?” Lucas sighs, “Let’s just use it! I just want this project to be over already.”

“Why do we have to put in so many highlights?” Dustin gripes. He removes his hat with one hand and uses the other to drag his fingers through his hair. “It’s all the same. One guy passes the ball to the other, the other guy runs with it, they score a point. It’s all the same and it just doesn’t make any goddamn sense.”

“Well, we’re almost done,” Will reminds them, “We only need three more minutes of footage.”

“Did you guys know that with all the time we’ve spent watching these football tapes over the past month, we could have watched the entire Star Wars trilogy over three times?” Dustin points out, “Three times.”

“That can’t be right,” Lucas frowns, shaking his head.

“7 homecoming games, all over 3 hours each, versus 3 movies, all around 2 hours each. Do the math, I’m right.”

“You do the math!” Lucas grumbles crossly.

“I just did!”

“We should take a break,” Will suggests, turning to Mike hopefully.

“Agreed,” Mike nods, rubbing his forehead, “I think we’re all pretty tired.”

“And hungry,” Dustin adds, “I’m super hungry.”

“Then go home and eat!” Lucas mutters bitterly.

“No!” Dustin frowns, scrunching up his nose, “Do you wanna know what my mom’s making for dinner tonight? Tuna casserole. Tuna casserole, Lucas. No one likes that, it’s disgusting.”

“Some people do.”

“Who?! Name one person.”

Lucas opens his mouth to reply, only to close it a second later.

“Exactly,” Dustin says triumphantly.

“Then why don’t you go out and eat,” Lucas retorts.

“Because! No one goes out to eat alone, that’s weird.”

“It really isn’t!”

“It really is!”

“Then we’ll just go with you!” Will cuts in, “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Really?” Dustin asks, looking excited.

“Really?” Lucas echoes, looking tired.

“It could be fun,” Will nods, “Right, Mike?”

Mike glances between the guys. Even though he’s still feeling a little down, a night out with his friends does seem like the perfect way to get his mind off of El.

“Why not?” He shrugs, turning off the TV. “We still have two weeks to finish this video, and it’s getting pretty late. We can go to Benny’s.”

“Mike, Will — you’re amazing, incredible,” Dustin beams, already rising out of his seat. “I owe you guys! You’ve saved me, like, seriously!”  

“That’s what friends do!” Will replies before turning to give Lucas a pointed look.

Lucas eyes Will and Dustin before allowing his shoulders to slump and his demeanor to soften. “Yeah,” he relents, offering Dustin an apologetic smile.

Mike smiles at his friends, already feeling happier. “Alright, guys, let’s get going before it gets dark out,” he instructs, getting out of his desk.

The guys nod and follow his lead. After they hastily pack up their equipment and phone their parents, they race each other outside to the bike rack. It’s around 6:00 when they finally head out. Dusk is upon them — the blue sky is slowly ebbing away into a faint orange, their breath appears as faint clouds in front of their faces.

Benny’s Burgers, located near the outskirts of town, is small and a little drab, but the boys wouldn’t trade it for the world. They’ve been coming to the diner ever since they were young. The food is not only cheap, but amazing, and the owner, Benny, is always really nice to them. It’s also nice that it’s not too far away. Tonight, the boys manage to bike there in under 25 minutes.

25 more minutes later, they’re seated inside their favorite booth, happily enjoying their bounty of burgers, curly fries, and milkshakes. They sit in their usual positions — Dustin and Lucas on one side, Mike and Will on the other. Dustin and Will are seated closest to the windows; Dustin because he enjoys people-watching, and Will because he enjoys sketching the scenery when he gets bored.

There are only a few other patrons in the restaurant, but they’re more preoccupied with chatting up the owner, Benny, as he works behind the grill. The diner is filled with the sounds of frying food, soft chatter, clattering dishes, and whatever song is playing on the radio (currently: a single from the new A-ha album).

Just like the A.V. Club room, Benny’s is a place that means something to Mike and his friends. It’s safe, it’s comfortable, it’s filled with memories, and it’s always the same.

It’s the perfect way for Mike to get his mind off of El.

At least, it is until she shows up.

“Holy shit!” Dustin suddenly cries out, peering out the window, “Is that El and Max?”

Mike nearly chokes on his curly fries. “W-what?!”

“I’m serious! I’m like, a hundred percent sure that that’s them,” Dustin continues, squinting.

“I wanna see!” Lucas says eagerly, pushing past Dustin.

The boys all cram together to look out the window, faces pressed up against the glass.

Sure enough, Mike spots El and Max in the parking lot. They’re approaching the diner at an easy pace, skateboards tucked under their arms.

“They skateboard?” Dustin exclaims, shocked.

“They’re so cool!” Lucas gushes, before quickly adding, “I mean, sort of.”

Had it been any other day, Mike probably would have been absurdly excited to see that they were here. But today, still unsure of how El feels towards him, all he feels is anxiety. For all he knows, El is never going to speak to him again, all because he wouldn’t shut up about a stupid lamp. It sucks.

“I can’t believe your girlfriend is here, Mike,” Dustin snickers giddily, “Try not to cream your pants.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Mike mutters, pouting slightly. The A-ha song that’s playing on the radio is a somber love ballad, which really isn’t helping Mike’s mood.

El is chatting with Max when she suddenly stops. Max looks back at her with confusion, but then El says something and points to a spot in the front of the diner.

The exact same spot where the boy’s bikes are parked.

Max frowns and glances around the parking lot. Then her eyes flit towards the window, she nudges El, and the next thing Mike knows, both girls are staring directly at them.

Shit, shit, shit.

“Oh my god, get down!” Dustin exclaims, eyes wide.

The boys jump back from the window and duck their heads down, each a little breathless and flustered.

“Shit, do you think they saw us!?” Lucas hisses, not daring to look back out the window.

“They looked right at us!” Dustin hisses back, “I’m pretty sure they did!”

“So? Aren’t we friends with them?” Will asks, glancing at everyone. “We all hung out at the party!”

“That was only because everyone else was drunk!” Lucas reminds him, “And Max specifically said that we weren’t friends!”  

“I don’t think she really meant that.”

“It doesn’t matter, we can’t get caught looking like creeps!” Mike insists, quickly straightening up, “Just act normal! Maybe they didn’t recognize us!”

The boys nod and follow his lead, resuming their normal seating positions.

As they all return to eating, Mike can feel his heart pounding in his chest. The drumming of his heartbeat is so loud, he’s surprised that all his friends can’t hear it. Wait. Maybe they can. Maybe they’re just not mentioning it. Oh god, what if it’s like, really loud, and then El walks in and she totally hears it and she knows how much he’s freaking out and—

His thoughts are abruptly cut off by the soft chime of the bell that hangs above the entryway door. He can hear two sets of footsteps enter, and then come closer, and then he can see Lucas’ eyes widening, and Mike’s palms are starting to sweat, and shit, this is really happening.

He glances up nervously to see Max and El walking up to the table. Max’s head is held high with confidence, while El’s is ducked down shyly.

“‘Sup, nerds,” Max says casually, coming to a stop in front of the table. Without hesitation, she slides right into Lucas and Dustin’s side of the booth and gives Lucas a punch to the arm. “Hope you don’t mind that we left our boards by your bikes.”

Lucas tries to laugh, but it comes out as nothing more than a nervous voice-crack.

Mike and El’s gazes meet.

She looks nervous, but then again, Mike knows that he does too. He’s more than nervous, actually, he’s terrified.

But then El gives him a small, soft smile, and Mike feels his heart melt because she’s so pretty and she’s smiling at him, which means that she probably doesn’t hate him for acting like a total wasteoid, right? Se forgives him.

Mike doesn’t realize that he’s been stupidly, wordlessly gazing at her this entire time until Will intervenes.

“Let her sit down,” he whispers, giving Mike a small nudge.

Oh. Right.

“D-Do you want to?” Mike hesitantly asks El.

El blushes. “I-“

“She does,” Max answers, “Believe me.”

El throws Max a dirty look before turning back to Mike and nodding appreciatively. “Yes.”

Will and Mike slide over in the booth, allowing El to squeeze in next to Mike. It’s a close fit and Mike can’t help but blush when her leg presses up against his.

“Thanks,” El murmurs to Mike.

“You’re welcome!” Mike mumbles back.

“So, um,” Dustin says, slightly squished up against the window, “Like, no offense, but why are you guys here?”

“Like, no offense,” Max replies, mimicking him, “But why were you stalking us?”

“We weren’t stalking you!” Lucas insists.

“Then why were you all looking out the window at us?”

The guys glance at each other anxiously.

“There was…” Will begins slowly.

“A…” Lucas adds.

“A really big…” Mike continues.

“Lizard,” Dustin finishes.

“A lizard?!” Everyone else echoes.

“Yeah!” Dustin continues quickly, throwing the guys a scowl. “A really big, killer lizard. Like, bigger than my head! It was running through the grass, and I spotted it, and I just thought I that I should point it out to the guys, because it looked really cool. We totally didn’t know that you girls were even there.”

It takes everything within Mike to not slap himself on the forehead.

Shockingly, the girls don’t buy it.

“Remind me to never commit a crime with you guys,” Max remarks. She reaches a hand across the table, steals a curly fry from Lucas’ basket, and starts munching away happily. “You guys are the worst liars ever.”

“Whatever,” Lucas blushes, sliding the basket of fries closer to her.

“So, uh, you guys never said why you were here?” Mike says conversationally.

“Max is teaching me to skateboard,” El explains. She tilts her neck back and points to a small, but rough-looking scrape along the underside of her chin.

“Sweet!” Dustin says, impressed.

“Are you ok?” Mike asks worriedly.

El nods modestly. “It didn’t hurt.”

“Anyway,” Max chimes in, still working on Lucas’ fries, “We got hungry, so we skated here.”

“You guys like it here too?” Will asks.

“It’s alright,” Max shrugs. She reaches into Lucas’ basket for another curly fry, only to discover that she’s eaten them all. “Shit,” she mutters, frowning at the empty basket.

“Maybe,” Dustin says, “You should order your own food.”  

Max flips him off. Dustin returns the motion. At first, Mike worries that an argument is going to break out between them, but to his surprise, their angered looks break into mutual snickering, and both look away with a smirk.

Alright, then.

“I’m hungry,” El admits. Her leg is still pressed against Mike’s, and as she talks, he can feel that she’s drumming her foot on the floor.

“You should order some food,” Mike insists to both girls, though his gaze remains mostly fixated on El.

“Fine,” Max sighs. She reaches across the table and grabs the menu that’s tucked behind a bottle of ketchup and the salt and pepper shakers. “What should I get?” She asks, giving Lucas a pointed look.

“What do you like?” Lucas asks, still blushing furiously.

“You,” El mumbles, so low that only Mike is able to hear it.

Mike lets out a bark of laughter, earning himself a series of questioning looks from everyone but El, who meets his gaze and gives him a knowing smirk.

“I think I’m just going to get a burger,” Max shrugs, passing the menu to El. “And more fries. What’d about you, El?”

“Waffles,” El says simply, not bothering to look at the menu.

“Waffles?! For dinner?” Dustin exclaims.

El gives him a stern look. “Yes.”

“Waffles sound great!” Mike pipes up eagerly. “I think I’ll get some too.”

“You already ordered a burger, though,” Will reminds him, pointing to Mike’s half-finished food.

“I’m not really in the mood for that, anymore,” Mike hastily explains.

“So, you’re just going to throw away a perfectly good burger?!” Dustin exclaims, horrified.

“That’s kind of a waste of money,” Lucas nods.

“Plus, you’re gonna get fat,” Max adds.

Mike scowls at all of them. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting waffles, I have money, and I’m not fat!”

“Mike,” El says, locking eyes with him, “It’s ok. You can have some of my waffles.”

Mike instantly feels his cheeks flush red. “Okay,” he mumbles, simmering down.

“Wow. You guys are adorable,” Max says dryly, “You know, Wheeler, El like, never shares her waffles with anyone, so this is a pretty big deal.”

“That’s not true!” El gasps, cheeks now as red as Mike’s.

Max only shrugs and smiles mischievously. “If you say so,” she says in a sing-songy voice that only makes El blush harder.

Benny approaches their table to take the girls’ orders and 15 minutes later, Max is giving some of her fries to Lucas, and El is carefully cutting her waffles into halves.

“Can I have a fry?” Dustin asks hopefully.

“Maybe you should order your own food,” Max mimics, but nevertheless, she tosses a couple fries to both him and Will.

“Here,” El says shyly, placing her waffle halves onto Mike’s plate.

“I don’t need all of this,” Mike says reluctantly.

El shrugs and gets to work on the waffles she has left, seemingly indifferent to his protests.

As they both start to eat their waffles, their elbows brush, their legs are still close together, he can smell her lavender shampoo, and it finally feels like things are okay between them again. More than okay, actually.

“So, uh, Max,” Lucas says, taking a deep breath, “Guess what?”

“What?” Max asks, eyeing him.

Lucas smiles shyly, “I beat your high score in Dig-Dug. I got 752,001.”

“Are you shitting me?” Max exclaims, jaw dropping.

“It’s true!” Mike adds, “I was there.”

“When!?”

“The same day we saw you playing at the arcade,” Mike explains, “After you left.”

“You play at the arcade?” El asks, eyes wide.

“She plays at the arcade?!” Dustin and Will echo together.

Max freezes, face growing pale. Mike can tell she’s trying to think of an excuse, and for a moment he feels bad for outing her, but at the same time, it was technically Lucas’ fault, and it was probably going to come out eventually.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” El asks concernedly.

Max hesitates. “Because…,” she finally mutters, “It’s lame.”

“It’s not lame!” El insists.

“Video games are awesome,” Dustin gushes.

“And you shouldn’t be ashamed of liking different things,” Will adds.

Max slumps back in her seat, cheeks crimson. “Whatever,” she mutters, looking slightly shy. She gives Lucas a nudge to his arm before adding, “You know this means that we’ll have to go back to the arcade so I can kick your ass, right?”

“I know,” Lucas smiles, absolutely thrilled.

“We should all go together,” Will smiles, “It’d be fun.”

“Yeah, I gotta see this for myself,” Dustin nods.

Mike glances at El just as she’s glancing back at him. “Yeah,” he says casually, “That could be fun.”

“Really fun,” El nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Tomorrow, then,” Max says definitively. “You’re going down, Sinclair.”

To quote Max, it’s not like this means they’re like, friends or anything. The rest of the night is spent placing bets on whether or not Max or Lucas will win the Dig-Dug tournament, breaking up arguments between Dustin and Max, and making jokes about how totally screwed over Jennifer Hayes is.

They’re definitely not friends, but —

They’re getting there.

[capnebula]

Shine: Part I

BLURB: Will Byers has always been different, but when he has a dream about seven kids who defeated an evil they called IT and suddenly the girl shows up in Hawkins, he is more concerned about what's up with him. He speaks to this girl, Beverly, and with her help he unites The Party with her group, The Losers, to save Hawkins, and perhaps the world, from a greater evil.

WARNINGS/TRIGGERS: Nothing this chapter, just Stranger Things S2 spoilers (but I think most everyone has binged it by now)

SHIPS: Currently undecided.

WORD COUNT: 1,189

“Fear.” Will Byers woke up in a cold sweat. It was the same dream from the night before. There were seven kids in the sewer, or this demented house- it varied throughout the course of the dream- and they were all teaming up against this clown, though the thing could hardly be qualified as just that. It, as he had come to know it, was a shapeshifter that would take your worst fears and make them a reality right before your eyes. That wasn't what always caught him off guard, though. It was the detail of the dream; how real it felt. Having it two nights in a row was even more unsettling. It was as if it were a sign; just the thing Will tried to avoid. He rolled over in bed and pulled his sheets up higher; it was autumn, after all, and that meant nighttime was freezing, even colder than the day usually was. He tried to recall the kids from his dream, and after a moment’s contemplation, flicked on his light, got some paper, and started to draw them as they were etched in his mind. One in particular stood out. She was the only girl in the group, and her hair matched the colours of the season, a vibrant ginger that put the leaves falling from the trees to shame. There was also a kid with a cast who had used an inhaler at one point, and another with glasses that made his eyes bug (This one looked oddly like Mike, Will noticed), and a kid who was admittedly a bit overweight with sort of sandy hair. Then there was a boy who stuttered a lot, and another who had rather curly hair, significantly curlier than most of the others, not the girl but everyone else, and a black boy. These were the seven he had seen last night and just a few minutes ago. He was still drawing them when the sun came up, and when his mom came in to have him get up for school. She opened the door to his bedroom with a soft call of “It's time to get up, buddy- Will? What're you doing up already, bud?” He turned back to face her. “I woke up last night and couldn't get back to sleep. There was an art overflow in my brain,” he explained to her. “Oh, okay. Nothing from the Upside Down, right?” “Mom, I'm fine,” “I'm just making sure, honey, you know I worry,” “Yeah… I know,” “If you're sure you're okay, get ready for school. I have to head out. Love you,” Joyce came and planted a kiss on Will’s forehead before walking out of his room.

When Will got to school, his friends were waiting for him. Even Eleven, or Jane, had started coming to school with them a few months after the Mind Flayer attack. And there was Max, the newest member of their party and basically Lucas’ girlfriend (although they both denied it). Then of course there were the usual suspects, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin. “Will!” Mike exclaimed in greeting, followed by a chorus of hellos and what ups from the others. “Hi, guys,” Will greeted, smiling. “You look pretty tired. Sleep okay?” “Yeah, yeah, just woke up early. Had a dream that left me needing to draw.” Everyone seemed greatly concerned by this. It had been this way ever since the first time he had become victim to the Upside Down’s creatures, but after the second time everyone seemed on edge all the time. El was the first to actually say something. “What was the dream?” she asked. “I had it two nights in a row, actually. These seven kids defeating a shapeshifter who usually takes the form of a clown in a sewer. It's not really disturbing, but it feels really real and I don't know why I've had it two nights in a row now,” he replied. “This sounds like some weird voodoo shit,” Max comments as the bell to head inside rings. Will sighs. It wasn't voodoo shit, but it wasn't normal either. “Isn't there supposed to be a new kid at school today? From Maine?” Dustin asks. Lucas and Max frown simultaneously. “Dunno,” Lucas says. “If there is that'd be the third new kid this year,” Mike observes, walking through the door to their class and heading to his seat. “Do we even have room for another new kid?” Will sits next to him and shrugs. “No clue,” Once everyone was seated, their questions were answered. Dustin had been right. There was a girl with ginger curls that fell messily around her face. Her freckles were dusted unevenly across her face, and she had pale blue eyes that seemed oddly familiar to Will. The giveaway to him was her clothes. The unmistakable overalls, these ones long and olive green, with a maroon long sleeve and a heavy jean jacket. This was the girl from his dream. “Everyone, this is our new student, Beverly Marsh. Anything you wanna say about yourself, Beverly?” She looked around the class, as if observing each of them and decided prematurely who was safe and who wasn't. “I'm… From a small town like this in Maine. I had to move because of current family situations. I probably won't be around long, so don't get used to me,” Odd thing to say, Will thought. She seemed to have a plan for every step of her life, this one being a small part of getting to her main goal. She went to go sit down in the new open seat, right behind El, who was on Mike’s other side. Will needed to tell someone he'd seen this Beverly girl before. He leaned over to Mike. “You know I'm not usually one to distract from class, but Beverly? She was in my dream from the other night. Remind me and I'll show you the drawings later,” he whispered. Mike made a face first of confusion, then of curiosity. He nodded and mouthed ‘Okay’ before turning to pay attention to their teacher. Will followed suit.

It was a long day, and painfully so. Will just wanted to show everyone the drawings from that night. He'd relayed the message he told Mike to everyone else throughout the day and it seemed everyone was eager to see this premonition of a drawing. They were by the bikes when everyone asked the question: “Can we see now?!” Will was happy to oblige, and he pulled out a small folder of his drawings. Normally he wouldn't have brought them, but he did today and he was glad. The first drawing was of Beverly herself, wearing something very similar to her outfit from today, which was bizarre to everyone. “Don't you think it's weird? This is weird. Why would Will dream about this girl right before she showed up at our school?” Dustin inquired “We don't know yet, Dustin, but we're gonna figure it out. We always do.” Lucas responded. Mike nodded, an mmhm of agreement coming from his lips. 

Will smiled, glad to know his friends were ready for another mystery.