#If byler doesn’t happen i wanna know by tomorrow so i don’t go into the show wishing for a false dream

[5thsideblog]

the streets saying they don’t want too much stuff to leak because then they won’t wanna watch the show but i’m #different from you guys and i want episodes to start leaking and raw footage to be released and all endgame couples to be leaked so i KNOWW what im going into

[fizzseed]

hey fizz !!! for the ficlet prompts : do i wanna know and byler (literally Look At My Blog Title lmfao did u expect anything less?)

have you ever thought of callin’, darlin’? / the nights were mainly made for sayin’ things that you can’t say tomorrow day.

do i wanna know? — arctic monkeys for @willelfanpage

Mike still keeps his walkie on his side table. He didn’t take it with him to California, but it was right there when he returned, even though his mom went through his room to clean it up, even though the earth cracked open under everyone’s feet. 

He keeps the antenna extended permanently these days, just in case of a code red. There’s a pack of batteries in his bedside drawer, too, ever since Dustin gave them to him after the whole Starcourt fiasco. 

Never again, Dustin had said solemnly.

Mike wishes they’d had the same foresight about tapes and Walkmans during their Upside Down mission. 

Since the disaster, things have settled into an odd kind of normalcy. He and El broke up, Max is still in the Hospital, Lucas still sits by her side most of the time, Dustin spends his days in Hawkins High’s gymnasium trying to distract himself from Eddie’s death. 

Mike tries very hard not to think about any of it. 

It doesn’t really work.

He picks up the Walkie, dials in the frequency out of sheer habit, away from the Party’s decided wavelength for some privacy. 

“Hey, Will,” he sighs into the static of the receiver. “I know you’re out of range, so, whatever, but…”

He scoffs at himself. This habit he’s formed, of talking to Will without actually talking to him, probably isn’t healthy. But he never went to see Ms. Kelley, so— jury’s still out.

“There’s so much going on. And I feel like,” Mike hesitates. “Whatever, it doesn’t really matter what I feel, but— I can’t keep up. It’s like… for the first time in my life I don’t have a plan. I don’t know how to fix this. Max is… not waking up, and El thinks it’s her fault and I was fucking lying to her, but she knows. She knows. She’s known for longer than I have.”

He laughs, the sound absent of the joy it should contain.

“Whatever. She’s a better person than I’ll ever be, so she let me off the hook.”

He pauses, stares down at his wrinkled bedsheets, notices a stain on his tank top that he picks at. The white noise of the walkie is comforting, a reminder of simpler times even as red clouds glow in the distance of the 2AM sky. 

“And… I miss you,” he confesses quietly. “I know I messed up last summer. I promise I didn’t mean to, I was just… messing around, I guess. And I know it was a dick move, now. And I never apologized, not to your face. Because by the time we found you, the Mind Flayer was active again, and then shit went down and then…”

Mike sighs.

“Then I was too much of a coward to say anything. For three months. And then… then you fucking moved to California and shit got even weirder. And now— now it’s the fucking apocalypse. And I miss you. I kinda wish you never moved.”

Mike drags his thumb over the stain. It won’t come out. Now, he’s just pressing old chocolate syrup or ketchup or whatever it is into the fabric. 

“You know, the week before I walked around hoping that Lenora would, like, explode or something.” He laughs again. “Just so you’d have to stay. And I know that’s selfish, because Lenora was good for you guys, what without all the Upside Down shit.

“But Hawkins isn’t the same without you. I’m not the same without you. You’re— you’re still the best thing that’s ever happened to me.

“Do you remember that? When we were trying to get the Mind Flayer — Vecna now, I guess — out of you? When you tapped the morse code into the chair?”

Mike smiles at the memory. “I told you asking you to be my friend was the best thing I’ve ever done. And you broke out of his hold, and I was so proud of you.”

He drops the walkie into his lap, letting go of the button. 

“Over and out,” he mumbles to himself. 

Back when he could still do something. Other than be a shitty boyfriend and a bad friend, that is. 

The walkie crackles to life in his lap, and he startles wildly, dislodging it enough to send it clattering to the floor. For a while, there’s just silence on the line, and Mike picks it up warily, halfway through a million disaster plans of what to do if he’s getting a call from the Upside Down. 

The line crackles again, and then:

“I remember.”

Mike chokes on his own spit, trying desperately to keep his coughs quiet enough that he can still hear what Will is saying. 

“Everything else is kinda blurry,” Will says, “but you, talking about the swingset? I remember all of it. Saying ‘yes’ was the best thing I ever did.”

Mike presses on the talk-button. “Will?”

“Yeah, Mike?”

He doesn’t need to ask if he’s real. Mike knows. “Why… why were you tuned to this frequency?”

A beat of silence. “I guess it was the last one I was on.”

He doesn’t say anything else. Mike feels the blood rushing in his veins. So Will heard everything he said. He tries to figure out a way to recover from this embarrassment, to make Will forget he ever said anything. He could just ask. Hey, Will, can you forget that I was spilling my absolute guts on our separate frequency and talking to you even though I thought you couldn’t hear me? 

“You played Should I Stay or Should I Go, right?” Will asks suddenly. 

Mike laughs to himself, presses to talk. “Yeah, yeah we did. It was Jonathan’s idea.”

He catches the tail end of Will’s laugh over the line. “Of course it was.”

Mike smiles. They sit quietly for a bit, long enough that Mike thinks Will has gone to sleep. It’s the reasonable thing to do in the middle of the night, way more sane than dumping your emotions into a walkie-talkie. 

“Mike, are you still there? Over.”

“M’still here,” Mike says quietly.

“You don’t have to fix this alone, you know?” Mike frowns. “It’s— it’s like you said. We’re better as a team. We can fix it together.”

Mike doesn’t really know what to say to that, but he promised Will that they’d do just that, that they’d be best friends again. He wants it so bad. More than he’s wanted anything ever, probably. To go back to normalcy, with Will at his side. So he says:

“Yeah, okay.” He lets himself fall back onto the bed and a shiver runs down his spine as his cold mattress makes contact with his spine. “I’m— gonna go to bed, now.”

“Okay,” Will says, voice small. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Mike answers. “Over and out.”

He lets the antenna stay extended as he places the walkie back on his side table and wraps himself in his comforter.

“Over and out,” Will’s voice washes over him, and then the static over the line breaks. 

[byebyebyler]

A Stupid Fight - Byler

They were in the middle of a stupid fight. They both wanted to forget about it as soon as it had started, but instead, it ended with Will slamming the door to their apartment as hard as his small body could manage.

Mike sighed, running a hand through his wild curls. He looked blankly at the pieces of paper in front of him, scribbled with ideas that his mind formulated in the middle of long nights, making him jolt wide awake and wake Will in the process.

Will.

“It was supposed to be good news,” Mike mumbled to himself, “Not the start of a fucking argument.”

Mike had gotten an offer that he couldn’t pass up. The couple’s comic series has been pitched to be turned into a full blown Hollywood series of movies. He was super excited about it, and he was especially excited to tell Will since it was both of theirs, Will being the illustrator.

He was hoping Will would be as happy as he was. Obviously nothing was set in stone, but he wanted to answer the movie company as quickly as possible to ensure it could still happen.

They could pick up their entire life and shift it across the country. It was an exciting new stage of Mike’s life, and he wanted to share all of it with Will.

Will, on the other hand, wasn’t leaping at the idea. Living even in New York City, it was too far away from Indiana for Will. He was very family oriented and liked visiting his mother and Hopper over breaks from work and holidays. Mike totally understood that, but he couldn’t and didn’t want to move without Will.

“We’ll still see them on holidays and stuff! We can call!” Mike had assured him enthusiastically, smiling widely at his boyfriend.

“Mike, it’s not that easy. My mom needs me to be close, she doesn’t want anything to happen like... before,” Will whispered the last word, reluctantly looking up at Mike’s worried eyes.

“Will, I’ll be with you every single day. Nothing will happen, alright?” Mike promised him softly, holding Will’s hand to comfort him. Mike pressed a soft kiss to his lips, pulling away to smile gently at Will. “Think of it: we could buy an actual house, that’d be awesome. It’ll be way better than this shitty apartment, and we can maybe get a cute dog or something. We’ll have a office to share, you can have a place for all your fancy art things-“

“Mike, what if I don’t want that?” Will said so quietly that Mike could hardly hear him.

“I get that you don’t wanna move, Will, but I don’t wanna-“

“No. What I mean is... what if I don’t want this huge Hollywood success. It’s our work together, I don’t want our names or work to be associated with a horrible movie. Then, horrible sequels too.”

Mike furrowed his eyes, looking at Will with confusion on his face. “I’m sure we’ll have a say in everything concerning the movie-“

“How much say? Will we see the script, will we not? Will we be able to have a say in costumes, outfits, or sets? Will they even fucking let us because we’re together?” Will asked, his voice shaking but getting louder with every question.

“Will,” Mike said, trying to calm him down with a soft voice. “Things are better in California, you know. There’s always gonna be people like that in life-“

Will scoffed, shaking his head. “So, you’re just telling me to accept that?!” He challenged Mike with a look of disbelief on his face. “Really? After everything I’ve been through- after everything we’ve been through?”

Will went over to the kitchen, grabbing his jacket violently off of the counter. He put it on quickly, looking utterly frustrated and upset. “You know what, Mike? I’m sorry I have to ruin your big Hollywood dreams, but I can see the reality in some of these things. I’m not gonna work with anyone who thinks that our relationship is gross or disgusting so much so that they don’t want us to be involved in making our work become a reality.” He reaches the door, watching Mike stay put near the couch. “I’m gonna go take a walk,” he finally said, slamming the door before Mike could respond.

-

Mike shook his head, playing out the previous events on a loop in his mind. He felt horrible. He felt guilty that he hadn’t listened to Will the way a boyfriend of years should’ve. He sighed again, lifting himself off of the couch.

He knew Will needed space, and he wanted to give him that, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how things ended.

He walked over to their shared office, smiling at the rough sketches along with finished pieces scattered all over Will’s desk. Mike could list thousands of good qualities of Will’s but neatness wasn’t one of them.

Mike opened his own desk’s drawer that they had named the Drawer of Everything Needed at Some Point when they had first moved into their apartment. He smiled, picking up the small velvet box he kept hidden in there. He had bought it on a whim one day several months ago. A simple silver band that he knew would suit Will. He had only glanced at it a few times since purchasing it, but this time it was the most meaningful.

He was waiting for the right moment. But, as his thumbs stroked the velvet material of the box, he was fearing it would never come. Especially not after the way this fight left them.

Sighing, Mike shoved the box far back into the drawer like he had done so many months ago.

Will, instead of being cuddled up close to Mike, was out in the brisk cold air of Central Park. Him and Mike didn’t live too far away from the park, but it seemed miles away that February night.

He was stuck in his thoughts. He didn’t want to be disagreeable, but he wanted to ensure that moving across the country would be worth it. Will wanted a say in everything, he wanted a say since he was the one who designed Mike’s characters. He felt like that was only necessary.

But, he also felt that if the actors or people working on the movie figured out him and Mike were together, it would destroy everything. The comics wouldn’t sell, the movie would be gone, everything would shatter.

“A gay comic book writer and his boyfriend who draws the pictures,” Will mumbled to himself, kicking some slushy snow into the street.

Once in the park, he sat on one of the benches. It was freezing cold, and that only made Will miss Mike more. Mike was basically a human furnace, heat radiated off of him.

After contemplating the long walk back to their apartment, Will waved down a taxi which brought him to his building a lot faster than he wanted to be. I should’ve walked. What if Mike’s upset? I basically crushed his dreams, should I walk around the block until midnight? I could do that...

He generously paid the taxi driver, wondering if the man could be bribed into driving Will to Jersey. Maybe Indiana if he was up for it. Anything to avoid Mike’s hurt gaze that Will worried about the entire cab ride. Too soon, the taxi was gone, and Will was left to either freeze his ass off outside or go inside and possibly be broken up with Mike.

He hoped for the best, that Mike would just be mad for the night, and ran up the stairs. He didn’t bother waiting for the elevator, and instead took the stairs two at a time.

He reached the apartment quickly, digging into his pocket for the keys. After moments of panicking, Will found them and slowly unlocked the door.

All of the lights were still on, and Mike was sitting on the couch. His head turned when the door opened, and he couldn’t help but smile widely.

“Will,” Mike said, walking over to the door to stand in front of his boyfriend. “You’re freezing.” His smile melted into a frown, taking his jacket quickly.

“I love you,” Will told him, smiling and happy that he wasn’t upset. “I’m sorry,” he said once Mike had him wrapped tightly in a hug. “I’m sorry. I totally overreacted. I should be happy that your work is possibly going to be a movie. That’s amazing.”

Mike stepped back and leaned down to kiss Will. “It’s /our/ work. You worked as hard as me on your famous drawings-“

“I’m not famous,” Will quickly corrected him, ducking his head as a blush formed on his cheeks. “I love you, dork.”

“I love you more,” Mike responded, holding onto Will’s hand while trying unsuccessfully to hang up Will’s jacket in their closet. After failing multiple times, he threw it onto the counter, Will rolling his eyes at him. “And, I’m not mad, if anything I wasn’t listening to what you were saying. I’m sorry about that, and I should’ve asked all of the questions you had. They’re important. They’re important to you, that makes them important to me.”

Mike continued on, walking them over to the couch. “And, honestly,” he sunk into the couch cushion, smiling as Will instinctively curled up into his side, “they should be important to me nonetheless. I never want to put you in a situation where either of us could be hurt in that way. And, obviously I want my boyfriend on set at all times. I want to be able to hold his hand while we watch actors mess up lines all day long. Besides, you’re the creative genius behind all of the illustrations, so you especially should be the one watching from behind the camera.”

Will interlaced their fingers together, squeezing Mike’s hand. “I don’t want you to be hurt either. Or us. Or the movie because of some anti-gay writers or producers or directors trying to keep everything from us.”

“I’ll call them first thing tomorrow. Everything will be figured out for us I’m sure. If that’s what you want... you know, if you wanna go to California.”

Will shot him an uneasy glance, relaxing as he felt Mike’s hand squeeze his. “I’m still not sure about that... I don’t mean to be like that — all disagreeable and stuff — but I’m sorry-“

Mike pressed a kiss against the top of Will’s head. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I want you to feel as comfortable as possible. I wasn’t listening, and we both know I do that a lot. I’ll ask about relocating the filming locations, how about that?”

Will smiled, wrapping an arm tighter around Mike’s torso. “And, we can always get a dog here in our shitty apartment, right?”

Mike laughed into Will’s hair, nodding along to his words. “Yup, our shitty little apartment.”

[nancythebisexualslutwheeler]

Byler prompt: Will and Mike like to hold hands underneath the table while playing DnD. It began as a platonic comfort but now they're starting to realize that it might be a bit more than that...

I am straight up the most extra person I know. Also background stoncy cause I couldn’t not.

They used to do it all the time. It was like a part of the game to them. Every night when the gang would gather to play Dungeons and Dragons, everyone would take their assigned seats, and Mike would take Will’s hand in his.

He’d expected it to be sweaty or awkward, but it just wasn’t. It was nice. He loved it, and it was part of his routine.

He knew better than to try it after the upside down. Will was extremely sensitive to people babying him or worrying about him too much, Mike included. Mrs. Byers worried enough for all of them, but Mike didn’t blame her. He’d seen the way his sister moped around sometimes, or how she woke up in the middle of the night screaming Barb’s name. He knows it’s happened to Will and he just wants to help.

But Will won’t let him. He’d learned his lesson the first time after Will had come back. They’d been playing in the basement and at first it was awkward, but they got back into the swing of things right away, especially when Nancy dropped off their pizza and two liter of coke. So Mike had reached over for Will’s hand, fingertips still greasy and Will had pulled away so hard that he shook his chair and the old card table chair had fallen to the ground.

Everyone was around Will in an instant, except Mike, who stayed in his own seat, cheeks red and chest tight with the hurt of rejection. When Will got up, with the help of Dustin and Lucas, the look he shot Mike was murderous.

“I’m going home,” he stated, eyes locked on Mike.

“Why? Do you need a band aid?” Asks El.

“No, but my elbows kinda messed up,” he lies.

“Come on man, no! Please stay,” Dustin says.

“I’m leaving,” Will snaps harshly, and the other five kids look at each other, he never acts like this.

“Well you don’t have to be a jerk!” Max says, going back to her seat and sitting down.

“Whatever. Bye.”

“How are you gonna get home?” Mike demands, “You told your mom you were spending the night!”

“Jonathan will take me.” Will says fiercely, crossing his arms over his chest.

“He’s upstairs with Nancy! It’s their date night!” And Mike knows this because she made it very clear they were not to be bothered.

“Well then tell your sister to quit macking on my brother so he can bring me the hell home!” And with that he stomps up the stairs.

The rest of the kids just stare at each other,

“What the hell was that?” Dustin asks.

“He needs a time out,” El says, taking a drink of her soda.

“He needs his ass kicked!” Says Max.

“He’s still messed up from the upside down,” Mike defends, even though he feels sick to his stomach.

“But that’s not like him,” Lucas argues.

“I know. But what can we do?”

The rest of them take their seats, but no one really feels like playing anymore. It’s only a short while later that Lucas says he’s going home. Dustin, El and Max quickly follow them, and soon Mike is left alone, with the extra food and trash, game pieces scattered.

He sighs, chest still tight, and gathers the paper cups, plates and used napkins to bring them upstairs. Their parents still aren’t home and Nancy is still on the couch in a bathrobe, presumably waiting for Jonathan to get back. (Or Steve to get off work) he’s not really sure what’s going on with that whole situation.

“Everyone rushed out early,” she says, turning to look at him.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I told Will to leave you guys alone.”

She shrugs,

“It’s fine. Mom called and said they’re going to stay in the city anyway, and Jonathan can pick up Steve from work on his way back so no big deal. Plus we were actually studying at that point anyway.”

Mike makes a gagging noise and Nancy flips him off. He laughs and she turns around so she’s kneeling on the couch, braced against the back on it, facing him,

“So what happened? Will seemed pretty pissed.”

Mike’s face drops,

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Hold the phone, what was that? What just happened? Did Will do something to you?”

“No! No of course not.”

“Well then why are you looking like that?!”

“God Nancy, you’re so nosy. Nothing.” Mike turns away to walk to his room. He doesn’t wanna talk about it. He just wants to cry.

“I’m nosy?! We were having a conversation! God you’re such a baby!”

“And you’re a bitch!” He turns and runs upstairs.

He’ll have to apologize tomorrow. It usually takes much more for him to call her a bitch. Usually around the same time she calls him an annoying asshole, or slams the door in his face for no reason. She didn’t deserve it. She wasn’t even prying like she usually does.

He’s just. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he’s so upset. It’s not like Will is. Eleven or something. Or Max. But Will is Will. He’s his best friend. And funny. And cute. And sweet. Will who had baked him a cake for his birthday and made Jonathan drive him over at seven am before school to give it to him. The last two years.

Will who had almost died. Will who didn’t want to hold his hand anymore, because he’d almost died. Mike didn’t know what to do. He didn’t think he was showing his feelings. But who could fault him if he wanted to hug Will all the time or see him smile, or watch him dance to his favorite song even though he truly couldn’t dance. Or hold Will’s hand, or even kiss him, maybe. (The jury was still out on that one. Kissing seemed gross. Even though everyone loved it, especially his mom and Dad. Ew! And Nancy and Jonathan (also maybe Steve?)). But the point was, he wanted to hold Will’s hand. And be around him. But Will didn’t want that. He was apparently creeped out by Mike and no longer wanted his weird, queer self around, especially not touching him.

The thought makes tears rush to his eyes and he buries his face is his pillow. This is too much. First Will almost died and this. He probably didn’t even want to be Mike’s friend anymore. And if he didn’t want to be his friend anymore then what was he going to do? And the whole rest of the group would find out and think Mike was a freak. Oh god. He sobs harder.

There’s a knock on his door a few minutes later,

“Go away!” He croaks.

Instead he hears the hinges of his door opening and he curses himself for not locking it. He hastily scrubs at his face with his sleeve and turns,

“Seriously Nancy! I’m not in the mood!”

She doesn’t say anything but he feels the pressure on the edge of the bed and she sits down and he breaks into tears again.

“Oh Mikey,” he hears her set something on his nightstand and then she wraps her arms around him, “What’s wrong honey?”

It takes him a few minutes to choke out, “Will doesn’t want to hold my hand!”

He watches a chunk of spit hit her in the chest, and she doesn’t flinch or move to wipe it off, just pulls back slightly to stare down at him,

“What do you mean?” She asks softly.

And Mike spills the whole story, as she brushes his hair away from his face and rubs his back, fingers tracing in different patterns.

“Well the first thing I want to tell you is you’re not a freak. You’re allowed to like anyone you want to like. Maybe Will was just scared because he likes you too.”

“You really think so?” He asks.

“He could. Or maybe he just didn’t want you to pity him because of the upside down. Or maybe he doesn’t like boys and he decided he doesn’t want to hold your hand. I think that’s unlikely, but it’s true. You have to remember he’s also my obligated to hold your hand.”

“I know, I know. Don’t go all psych major on me.”

“Wannabe psych major and shut up! I’m sure it’s one of the first two, but still.”

He sighs,

“You think he really likes me?”

She smiles,

“There’s only one way to find out .”

“But what if he doesn’t? That’s embarrassing.”

“You have to take a chance! You can end up in a great relationship, with someone you really like.”

Mike snorts, reaching for the pint of ice cream she had set on the nightstand. It’s rocky road, his favorite. He takes an enormous spoonful and hands it to her. She takes a more respectful size one and sucks on the spoon,

“Easy for you to say.”

“What?” She asks.

“Don’t you have two boyfriends?”

She splutters and blushes,

“Shut up. Fine. Ask Jonathan about how he asked Steve out then. He should be on his way back.”

“Ask him about Will?!”

“Not about Will goofball, just ask without mentioning him. Now give me some of that,” she makes grabby hands towards the pint and he hands it back.

That’s how Jonathan and Steve find them, forty five minutes later, an empty pint of ice cream between them. Steve intimidated him in general, so he timidly asks if he can speak to Jonathan alone, to which Nancy hops up and grabs Steve’s hand, tugging him to the door, before he can even say anything.

Jonathan is easier, and he’s honest. He tells Mike about being scared because his dad was always calling him a faggot and a queer. And that he is bisexual, which means boys and girls, which is a lot and Mike didn’t even know you could do that. And he tells Mike that he’s so happy now and that Steve and Nancy are great, and he has to stop him a few times because he’s getting gross and that is his sister but he is clearly so in love and he can hold their hands and even kiss them any time he wants. Mike thanks him eagerly, and Jonathan gives him a hug, and promises that if things don’t go as intended, they will kick the guy’s ass. He appreciates the sentiment.

He doesn’t sleep very well, but he knows he can’t do anything until morning. He feels a new found confidence when he wakes up, and ducks out of the house, careful to not wake his sister or her guests, makes sure to leave a note, and rides his bike to the Byers.

It’s still pretty early and he realizes that he hasn’t eaten breakfast, mostly because Joyce opens the door, hair frizzy and pancake batter on her cheek. Hopper and Eleven are there of course, and Will looks up from the table, shocked to see him.

“Well good morning Mike, honey, let me get you a plate.”

“Thank you so much Mrs.Byers, but I was hoping I could take to Will for a second.”

She looks between them,

“Um, of course.”

So Will slowly stands up and leads Mike to his bedroom. Mike feels weird now. Will’s just staring at him and his fingers itch to pull him in for a hug.

“I like boys.” Mike blurts out.

Will stares.

“Like like boys.”

Will just stares at him, unmoving.

“I like you.”

Will’s jaw drops a bit.

“I understand if you don’t like me but, I just wanted you to know. I wanna hold your hand because I like you. Not because I pity you or feel bad, but just because I want to. And I hope that’s okay. And I hope you like me too. But if you don’t-“

Will shakes his head and Mike cuts himself off, stomach churning.

“Of course I like you, you idiot! I just thought you felt bad or thought you had to be my friend and hold my hand because of the upside down or something. I didn’t know you actually wanted to.”

“Of course I want to!” Mike says eagerly.

Will smiles, “Really?”

“Really.”

Mike crosses the room and throws his arms around Will. Will hugs back tightly, before pulling back,

“I didn’t think this was how this was going to go.”

Mike chuckles,

“Me either.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me too.” Mike kisses Will’s cheek softly, and cheeks flaming, Will grabs Mike’s hand and leads him back out to the kitchen table.

Joyce is standing at the stove, Hopper is buttering his pancake and El is shoving an Eggo in her mouth. There’s no dramatic moment, no big reveal. Joyce turns around, spatula in hand and catches sight of their hands,

“Sweetie your plate is,” she pauses but for only a half a second, “right there. Feel free to move my plate so you can sit by Will.”

Hopper watches, before picking up the syrup and dumping it on his pancake,

“I hope your parents know where you are son, it’s my one day off and I don’t wanna have to make any phone calls.”

“Yes sir,” Mike nods, dunking his knife in the butter.

“Pass the syrup,” Eleven demands, a smile on her face.

Will reaches across his body with his free hand to grab it, before passing it to her. Shoves a bite of his own food in his mouth. Grins.

Mike stops by the store on his way home to get a thank you card. He addresses it to Steve, Nancy and Jonathan and pushes it under Nancy’s door because it’s still not open, but Jonathan’s car is still in their driveway and their parents still aren’t home.

It says: thank you to Jonathan, for all the advice, even though you’re sappy and your face gets all gooey when you talk about them. Steve thank you for being so wonderful to Jonathan that he literally cannot shut up about you. My sister too. Nancy, thank you for the advice and cuddles and the ice cream. PS: you’re not a bitch PPS: only sometimes