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itsmiahshemakessense · 12 hours ago

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Deleted xmas byler fic

Not mine!! but i had it downloaded and wanted to post here in case anyone else wanted to read the fluff masterpiece!

a three-step plan to make will byers fall in love

RomeoWrites

Summary:

It’s Christmas break and Mike Wheeler is having a crisis. Why? Because the Byers are visiting for the first time in almost two years, and sometime since leaving Hawkins, Will has gotten hot. And Mike is dealing with that in a totally platonic way. Or so he insists. OR The party concocts a three-step plan to get Will Byers to fall in love assuming, of course, that he hasn’t already.

rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Fandom:

Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Relationship:

Will Byers/Mike Wheeler

Characters:

Will Byers

Mike Wheeler

Eleven | Jane Hopper

Lucas Sinclair

Maxine "Max" Mayfield

Dustin Henderson

Additional Tags:

Fluff

Getting Together

Funny

Humor

Fluff and Humor

Sweet

First Kiss

Christmas

Holidays

Christmas Fluff

Language: English Published: 2022-08-09 Words: 13620 Chapters:1/1 Comments: 35 Kudos: 814 Bookmarks: 176 Hits: 5075

Phase Zero: The Pre-Planning

It’s the last day of school before the Christmas break, and Mike Wheeler is distracted. Like, head empty, no neurons firing, kind of distracted. If it wasn’t the last day of term he would definitely be in detention by now, because absolutely no thoughts have passed through his brain in any of his lessons thus far.

“Dustin,” he whispers halfway into their last math class of the year. “Dustin, I’m in urgent and dire need of assistance.”

“What?” Comes the vaguely annoyed response, and Mike rolls his eyes. It’s the last day of term and Dustin is still insisting on putting up a facade of concentration, despite the fact that literally everyone else in their class is already chattering away, and their teacher does not seem to care one bit.

“Assistance, Dustin. Keep up. I need assistance. Urgently and direly, in fact.”

Dustin fixes him with a look. “You sound like you’ve swallowed a thesaurus.”

“This is not the time to make fun of my extremely well-appointed grasp of the English language,” he hisses. “I’m having a crisis.”

That piques Dustin’s interest. “A crisis? What kind of crisis?”

And truthfully, Mike is not exactly sure, because said crisis only started this morning. At 6:52 am to be exact, when the Byers arrived at his house to spend their Christmas break back in Hawkins, away from California. The party had gathered at the Wheeler’s, where the Byers would be staying, to greet Will and El, who had jumped out of the car and immediately been smothered by a party group hug. Well, a party group hug without Mike who, upon seeing Will emerge from the backseat of Mrs Byers’ car, had promptly melted into a puddle of goo with very limited brain power. He had only just managed to react somewhat normally when Will pulled him into a tight hug, but when Will wryly complimented his Yoda pajamas, he was pretty sure all he managed to get out was ‘guh.’

Because the thing is, Will has been Mike's best friend since they were five. And until one and a half years ago, Mike had seen him everyday. And Will was familiar. His short stature and swoopy brown hair were familiar. His hazel eyes and shy smiles. Will was the type of kid who parents would coo over and teachers loved, because for all intents and purposes, he was cute. Adorable, even. Politely charming with his drawings and ink covered hands. But now? After Mike only had one short visit to California, very early on, and not so much as a photograph of Will before today? Will’s familiar features are gone. And instead Mike came to the abrupt realization this morning, that Will is hot. And that’s not a word that Mike would ever use aloud. But it’s true. Somewhere between before and now, Will has become completely and breathtakingly gorgeous. And Mike is dealing with that fact in a totally normal and platonic way.

“What kind of crisis?” Dustin asks again.

Mike shrugs rather helplessly. “I’m not entirely sure.”

Dustin’s eyes gleam with scientific intrigue. “A guessing game, then. Okay, academic?”

Mike shakes his head.

“Family?”

Still no.

“Personal?”

Uh - somewhat.

“…sexual?”

And Mike’s face must look some type of way because Dustin lets out an honest-to-god cackle. “What? You’re having a sexual crisis?”

“No!” Mike quickly amends, trying to do damage control for his facial expressions. “Not sexual. More like, romantic, I guess?”

Dustin levels him with a look. “A romantic crisis, huh? And what, exactly, has brought this about?”

“Uh - well, it’s kind of complicated, really.” It’s not complicated, Mike is just a coward. “It’s just I’ve noticed someone today who I find, uh - who is- well, someone who is rather, um, nice-looking,” he finishes lamely.

“Nice-looking?”

“Yeah, you know. Handsome.”

“Handsome?”

“Attractive?” Mike tries.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “Are you seriously this repressed? The word is hot, Michael.”

“Right. Yes. That.” Even hearing it aloud sent a little thrill through his stomach as he remembers how good Will looks with his tousled hair and strong jawline.

“Handsome as in male, handsome?” Dustin asks, a polite sort of curiosity in his tone.

“That would be accurate.”

“Oh, so this is about Will.”

Mike has to stop himself from shoving his pencil into his eye. “How did you know that? Was I super obvious?”

“Just a little bit,” Dustin admits. “Not to Will, though, I think you’re safe there.”

At least that’s a relief. “So, what should I do? You know, about the crisis?”

“Well, what do you want to do?” And Mike is immediately glad he chose Dustin to confide in, with his level-headedness and logic. He isn’t going to blow this whole thing out of proportion. “Because I think you should just tell him that you think he’s earth-shatteringly and mind-bogglingly hot, and you know, maybe kiss him. I think he’d appreciate that.”

And oh, look at that! Mike now regrets everything. “I am not going to do either of those things, Dustin,” he hisses. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Why is that ridiculous?”

“Well, for starters, I’m not just going to kiss him out of nowhere, that’s rude. And secondly, we don’t know that he’s going to appreciate it? He could completely freak out.”

“He’s not going to freak out - and everyone appreciates kissing.”

“Okay, that is so not true, and this isn’t about kissing. It’s about…” Mike trails off, looking for words and Dustin snaps his fingers at him.

“Oh. Oh, ho, ho,” he chortles.

“Okay, please stop doing that.”

“This isn’t a sexual crisis at all, is it?”

“I already told you that it wasn’t-”

“This is a love crisis.” Dustin strings out the word love like luuurve and that’s the only thing that horrifies Mike out of evaporating on the spot. Because love is a big word. A huge word, in fact. And also the word that most accurately describes his problem. He is having a love crisis.

Of course, he immediately denies this. “Actually, you know what? Let’s go back to sexual crisis. I think even that is more comfortable than how you just pronounced love.”

“I can’t believe you’re in love. Well, actually, maybe I can.”

“Okay, no one said anything about love.”

“Of course you’re in love. It’s Will.”

And surprisingly, that’s probably the first thing Dustin’s said so far that makes sense in Mike’s brain. He fiddles with his pencil and considers his options. Number one is to deny, deny, deny. But he’s the one who started this whole conversation, so it’s not like Dustin will believe him. Number two: pass it off as just a physical attraction - something that isn’t serious. Will is pretty and Mike wants to kiss him, but it’s not love. Just one guy appreciating the good-looks of another guy. But then phrase sexual crisis rings in his head, and he immediately vetoes that option. Which leaves him with one more. Admit what he has known to be true for approximately six years. That he is definitely in love, and maybe, just maybe, he’s finally emotionally prepared to do something about it.

“Okay, maybe just a little bit,” is what ends up coming out of his mouth, and Dustin sits back on his chair, satisfied.

“Well, good. Acceptance is the first step. Scoring yourself a super hot boyfriend is step number two.”

“And how exactly do you expect me to do that?”

“It’s simple. At lunch hour, we’ll lay this all out for the rest of the party and we’ll put our brilliant minds together and come up with a plan.”

He makes it sound so easy, that Mike feels compelled to just let it happen.

“Okay.” He steadies himself. “A plan. We can make a plan.” Then: “Do you really think Will is going to want that? Do you think he might like me back?”

Dustin rocks back on his rear chair legs, thoughtfully. “Well, scientifically speaking, you know, considering the evidence, I don’t think it’s the most unlikely thing in the world. I’d put your odds at 70:30.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Great. Numbers. Just what I need to help me through this.”

“Hey, math is a great way to figure things out. And those are good odds.”

Mike stabs his pencil into his worksheet, mutinously. 70% chance of success. He liked the sound of that. But 30% chance of failure? That, he could have lived without.

“I’ll think about it,” he says at last. “You can tell the party at lunch, and I’ll think about it.”

Dustin gives him a final nod and turns his attention back to their assigned work. And Mike tries to do the same, he really does, but by the time the bell rings for lunch hour, all he’s managed to do is doodle a couple of little hearts on his page and one very clumsy drawing of a boy in a wizards hat. He flushes, and scrunches up the paper, tossing it in the bin on the way out.

And maybe he was being somewhat (utterly and entirely) naive, thinking Dustin that would at least try to be a little bit subtle about this whole thing, because as soon as they arrive at their usual cafeteria table, Dustin slams down his lunch tray and with fervor, declares: “Mike is having a crisis.”

And if that wasn’t already enough to send Mike into a half-panicked state, Dustin then adds with a hushed sort of reverence, as if this was the news of the century: “Of the sexual kind.”

“Dustin!” Mike whisper-shouts, trying to suppress his mortification. “That is not what this is.”

“Oh? Did you or did you not use the words earth-shatteringly and mind-bogglingly hot?”

“I did not-” Mike’s horrified protest is cut off by the audible gasping coming from the rest of their table.

“What? Who does Mike think is hot-”

“You like someone? This is unbelievable-”

Dustin waves away everyone with an airy hand. “The point is this: Mike has declared himself hopelessly and irrevocably in love-” Mike gives up any attempt to interject and just groans, slapping his hand over his face, “-and it is our job, as his most dear and loyal friends-” (“-only friends,” Max interrupts) “-to help him,” Dustin finishes with a flourish.

“Help him?” Lucas asks quizzically. “You really think we can help him? He’s a hopeless case.”

“Hey-”

“It’s true, Mike,” Max says unsympathetically. “You’re probably the least romantic person I know.”

Mike scowls. “I could be romantic.” Then pauses. “Wait, no. I don’t want to be romantic - this is a terrible idea.”

Lucas points at him. “There you have it. He doesn’t want to be romantic.”

“Yeah, thank god,” adds Max. “That would be a trainwreck.”

“Gee, thanks,” he says sarcastically. And how exactly did Mike end up with such supportive and caring friends?

Max mimes a ‘you’re welcome’ while Dustin splutters in disagreement. “What? No. You don’t even know who this is about yet. How can you give up so easily?”

And that gets Max and Lucas interested again.

“Well, tell us then. Who is she?” Lucas asks, and then shoots a glance at Mike. “Uh, he?”

Max elbows him. “They.”

Dustin looks to Mike as if for approval and Mike just waves his hands vaguely. He supposes it won’t be the worst thing in the world if they find out about Will. Maybe it would make them more sympathetic when every Friday evening he ditches any plans because that’s his and Will’s night to talk as much as they can on the phone until someone kicks them off.

“Okay. It’s…” Dustin pauses for dramatic effect until Mike kicks him under the table. “Ow! Okay. It’s Will.”

“Knew it.”

“Called it.”

“It’s because of this morning, isn’t it?” Lucas accuses. “You saw him and totally freaked out because he’s all hot now.”

“Yeah, your face was so red, I thought you were going to explode.”

“Okay, can you stop being mean?” Mike directs at Max. “This is a trying time.” Then he looks at Lucas. “And can everyone please stop with the h-word?”

“He has problems with the h-word,” Dustin stage-whispers.

And great, now they’re all laughing at him, and Mike tries to slowly slip under the table, but Max reaches over and grabs him by the collar. “Relax, Wheeler, we’re only joking. I, for one, am actually glad that you’re finally admitting your feelings, and would be honored to join the noble quest to find you requited love.”

“You’ve come to too many of our DnD campaigns,” is all Mike says to that.

Max sends him a borderline horrified look. “You know I’m joking when I say shit like that, right? You do know that?”

“Alright, calm down,” Lucas interjects. “It’s not like you’re going to lose any cool credits with us.”

“People!” Dustin claps his hands together. “We are getting off-track. This meeting has been called to help Mike, not to bully him.”

“Meeting?” Mike splutters. “This is lunch.”

Dustin waves him off. “We need a plan.”

“Well, what’s our aim? Our hypothesis?” Lucas asks, and wow. Between the basketball and the general athleticism, Mike had forgotten that Lucas was still, like the rest of them, a huge nerd.

“This is not a science experiment-”

“Experiment!” Max cuts off his protest. “That’s exactly it. We should run trials. Attempts. We should try to set them up.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Mike says loudly.

“That,” Dustin points two, twin finger guns at Max, “is an excellent idea.”

“No, no, no, not excellent-”

“We could each have a go,” Lucas adds, apparently joining Dustin and Max in being deaf to the sound of Mike’s voice. “Make it a competition.”

“A competition?”

“Yeah, like, each of us can try to get them together, and the best man-”

“-or woman-”

“Or woman, will win.”

“Genius,” Dustin whispers. “Pure genius.”

All three of them look around at each other with the sort of reverent air that could only be conjured up by a bunch of far too self-important sixteen-year-olds.

Mike attempts to say something rational. Reasonable, so as to convince them all that this is a very, very bad idea. What comes out instead is: “Are you all actually insane?”

As one, they turn to look at him, as if only just remembering that he does, in fact, exist. By the looks on their faces, they don’t see anything wrong with their plan. Mike sinks back into his seat with a half-strangled sort of moan. “Oh my god. You are. You all are. My three best-” (“-only-”) “-friends are insane.”

“Oh, certifiably,” Dustin says agreeably. “But does that mean this is a bad idea?”

“Yes. Yes, it does.”

“Oh, come on, Mike. You’ve been hung up on Will since we were in middle school - and don’t pretend like you weren’t. Is it really the worst thing in the world if you give yourself a chance?”

Mike considers Lucas’ words, and hears the truth in them. Although seeing Will this morning had jolted something to life within himself, he has long been aware of the feelings he harbors, that were subconscious at first, until all of a sudden he turned ten, learnt what romance was, and developed what was probably the strongest childhood crush in the history of childhood crushes. Of course, now it’s a fair bit more than a childhood crush, so really, maybe this is a good idea. He could do with a chance.

“And if you do end up woefully and pitifully rejected, hey, the Byers live in California now, so it’s not like it’ll be that awkward,” Max supplies helpfully.

He shoots her a glare, any confidence he had, immediately evaporating. “Right. Will is going to reject me and this is a horrible plan.”

“Oh, lighten up, Wheeler,” Dustin says. “Sure, the painful pull of heartbreak may befall you, but is that any worse than the pain of never knowing what could be, if only you would proclaim your frankly sickeningly sweet, but admittedly adorable, love?”

Max punches him in the arm. “Don’t talk like that.”

But Dustin’s speech, however falsely pretentious, does stir something within Mike. He feels himself slowly nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Seriously, man? That’s what convinced you?”

“I’ve told you before, I’m a poet-”

“Oh, shut up, the pair of you.” Max looks at Mike squarely from across the table. “You’ll do it?”

And what the hell? What does he have to lose, really? (His dignity, his pride, his lifelong best friend, his brain supplies helpfully, but he ignores it.)

“Yeah. I’ll do it. Proclaim my love, or whatever.”

Dustin beams at him. “Great! What’s the worst that could possibly happen?”

Lucas covers Max’s mouth before she can answer.

“Yeah,” Mike says, brain spinning with possibilities. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Phase One: Max’s Madness

Immediately after school, the plan commences. Sometime during their shared science lab (while Mike sat, miserable and alone, relegated to a separate bench for secrecy purposes), Dustin, Lucas, and Max had put together three strategies to be executed over the next three days, that will supposedly ‘make Will fall in love, like he never has before’ according to Dustin (��assuming, of course, that he’s not already in love with you’ adds Lucas). Of course, they don’t tell Mike what any of these strategies are, but he knows that each of them is responsible for one. He dreads Max’s the most.

They all cycle to the Wheeler’s, and for the first time in his life, Mike wishes the distance between his house and school was longer, because all he wants to do right now is delay, delay, delay. Max catches his eye as he’s mid-deep-breath, trying to stop his heart from beating so fast.

“Would you calm down?” Max asks. “You’re acting like you’re going to have a heart attack when you see him.

“Maybe a heart attack isn’t the anatomical reaction he’s worried about-”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, Dustin,” Mike warns, ignoring the amused look between him and Lucas and the face of mock-disgust from Max. “I’m calm. I’m very calm. Never been more calm.”

The group share disbelieving glances.

“Alright,” says Max. “Just try to take deep breaths so you don’t start stress-sweating. That’s not the impression you want to give off.”

“I’m not trying to give off an impression. Will already knows everything about me, it’s not like I’m suddenly going to show up and he’s going to think I'm an entirely different person.”

“Well, I don't know, man. Your look is kind of edgy now. Maybe Will likes emo boys.”

“I’m not emo,” Mike objects, but secretly feels a little pleased about the assessment of his style. “Besides, he saw me this morning. I don’t look any different.”

“Yeah, well, this morning you were in Star Wars pajamas, so maybe give edgy a chance.”

Mike flushes a little. “I’ll have you know that Will said my pajamas were cool.”

The group shares another disbelieving glance, and man, Mike was getting sick of those.

“Looks like California has made Will forget about the friends don’t lie rule, huh?” Dustin laughs, and Mike doesn’t feel the least bit guilty about shoving him off his bike.

They reach the house and Mike feels in a tizzy. He lets Lucas and Max frog-march him to the front door, sure that if he walked by himself, he would never make it.

“What’s today's strategy, again?” he asks.

“Don’t you worry about that,” Dustin answers unhelpfully.

“Great. Just great,” he mutters to himself as he fumbles for his key and opens the door.

El greets them as soon as they walk inside. “Finally, you’re home! We’ve been so bored all day, waiting. Will’s still upstairs, but he’ll be down in a minute.”

Mike’s stomach does a disconcerting little flip when he realizes that Will is probably up in his bedroom, where he’ll be sleeping for the next two weeks. Mrs Byers and El are in Nancy’s room since she (and Jonathan) are staying at college during the break. Will got stuck with Mike’s floor, since they didn’t have another spare bedroom, and really, Mike is not complaining. Still, he hopes he didn’t leave anything embarrassing around when he left this morning.

Then he hears Will’s voice as he comes down the stairs and balks. “Okay, abort mission,” he hisses to the group. “Abort. This is a terrible plan.”

El looks at them, confused. “What plan?”

Dustin starts to say something, but cuts himself off when Will appears and looks around at their guilty faces. “What’s going on?” he asks.

Lucas leaps towards him, trying (and failing) to affect an air of nonchalance. “William!” He wraps his arm around Will’s like they’re an old married couple from a Jane Austen novel and guides him down the rest of the stairs. “Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary is going on, don’t you worry about that.”

Will looks bemused. “Why are you talking like that?”

“No reason, no reason.”

“Um, okay?” Will shifts his eyes around the room until they land on Mike, and then his lips tilt up into a smile. “Hey, Mike.”

Mike stares until Max elbows him in the ribs. “Oh, uh - hi.” And that is definitely not the usual octave he speaks in.

Will gives him a strange look, but presses on. “How was the last day of school?”

“Um, it was…” Mike thinks back to their lunch time conversation. “Productive.”

Will gives him another bemused little smile, before starting up a conversation with Lucas and Max. Mike takes a moment to try and jumpstart his brain, since currently it’s only able to focus on the fact that Will is wearing a tight, long-sleeve, black shirt and Mike doesn’t think he’s ever seen him in that color before.

“Why are you acting weird?” El asks him suspiciously, and Mike jumps a little.

“I’m not,” he says defensively, “I’m acting very normal.”

El raises her eyebrows, but doesn’t push any further. He distracts himself by dumping his backpack and shoes in the hall, and shrugging off his coat, until he hears another voice.

“Will, sweetie?” Mrs Byers calls from upstairs. “Will you help me set up this bed for a moment?”

Will rolls his eyes, but starts to climb back up the stairs. “Be back in a minute.”

As soon as he disappears, Max starts whispering to El very rapidly and Mike squints at them. “Woah, woah, woah. You’re not telling her the plan, are you?”

The look on El’s face tells him everything he needs to know. “Oh my god.” He throws a hand over his face in embarrassment. “Just tell the whole world, won’t you? Maybe Will while you're at it? Save us all some time.”

“Maybe that’s a good idea,” says El. “I don’t think you need a plan, just tell Will how you feel. And be honest.”

Max scoffs. “You want Mike to express his feelings? With words? Be serious, El. You saw him just then, he was a stuttering mess.”

Mike doesn’t even try to argue because it’s an entirely accurate statement.

El still hesitates. “But, it’s not like a trick?”

“No!” Dustin says. “It’s not a trick at all. We’re just helping them along. Creating romantic scenarios.”

“Romantic scenarios,” El says slowly. “Like from movies.”

“Exactly,” says Lucas. “Like, Max’s plan is today, and mine is tomorrow. And I just know that mine is going to work perfectly.”

“What is it?” Mike tries. He gets no response.

“And you think these will work?” El asks.

She received three identical nods in reply. She considers them all for a moment, before finally saying: “Okay. But only because I want to see Will happy.” Then she looks at Mike. “And you too, I suppose.”

“Gee, thanks,” Mike grumbles. “Always good to be a second thought.”

El shoots him a bright grin and loops her arm into Max’s, dragging her down the basement stairs. “So, tell me about your plan…”

With the girls gone, Mike looks around at Lucas and Dustin, feeling more than a little mortified. “Was it really that bad? Am I a stuttering mess like Max said?”

Lucas claps him on the shoulder sympathetically. “Well, let’s put it this way. Will still seemed plenty happy to see you, so we’ll count it as a win.”

Mike forces himself to take his hundredth deep breath of the day. “Okay, Mike,” he mutters to himself. “You can do this. You can talk like a normal person to Will - in fact, you literally did that last night on the phone. This isn’t any different.” He ignores the way Lucas and Dustin are looking at him like he’s completely lost the plot. “You just need to be calm, and remember that Will likes you. You’re his best friend. He’s happy to see you, and you just need to act normal.”

He exhales one more time and looks up. “Okay, actually that really made me feel better.”

Dustin just looks at him. “Okay, buddy.”

But, truly, Mike has mastered the art of self-pep-talks because when Will reappears, Mike bounds up to him, even managing to sling a casual arm around his shoulder, and steers him into the kitchen. “Go to the basement,” he calls to the others. “We’ll bring snacks.”

As they head into the kitchen, Mike can’t help but feel ridiculously happy. It’s been a long time since he’s seen Will in his house, and familiarity makes his heart swell.

“I like your new haircut,” Will says as he pulls some sodas out of the fridge. “It’s very… you.”

Mike feels absurdly pleased. “Thanks,” he says, turning around to grab a bag of chips so Will doesn’t see him flush. Will just hums in response, and when Mike turns back, Will reaches a hand up and tugs gently on one of his curls, letting it spring back up after. Mike swallows hard.

“It looks really good,” Will murmurs, his hand just barely brushing Mike’s cheek as he brings it back down. Mike accidentally pops the chip bag and both of them jump.

“Sorry!” His voice is an octave higher than usual, so he tries again. “Sorry. Held it a bit too tight.”

He turns around again swiftly and hunts for a bowl, trying to stop his heart from pounding. He pours the chips out, grabs a couple of chocolate bars from the cupboard, and turns around once more. Will is leaning nonchalantly on the counter.

“Ready to go?” Mike says, holding up his haul. Will shoots him a smile and grabs the sodas.

“Onwards, paladin,” he says with a dorky grin. “To the basement.”

Mike huffs out a laugh, feeling the knot of nerves in his chest loosen a little. It’s just Will, he reminds himself. “After you, cleric.”

They head down the stairs and almost make it into the basement, when Mike pauses, hearing a noise from behind the laundry door. “Hear that?” He nudges Will’s leg with his foot, hands holding their snacks.

Will tucks the soda pack under one arm and opens the laundry door. Chaos unfolds before Mike’s eyes. Lucas and Dustin are arguing in a corner, Max is sitting cross-legged on top of the dryer, and El is crouched on the floor next to a huge puddle of soapy water. In the middle of it all lies a bundle of wet, shiny material in distinctive tones of red and navy that Mike recognises.

“Are those our sleeping bags?” Mike is somewhat incredulous at the soapy, sopping mess of fabric that is spread before him. “What the hell happened here?”

El stands back up, holding one of the sleeping bags. “Wet,” she says, helpfully.

“We can see that, El.” Will’s tone is sort of resignedly amused, like he had expected nothing more from the group of four in front of them. “I think what Mike means is how did this happen?”

El shrugs, clearly the appointed speaker of the group, probably because they know Mike won’t get mad at her. “Washing machine.”

Mike sighs in exasperation and shares a helpless glance with Will. “Any chance these will dry before bedtime?”

“I mean, unless your dryer has super-machine capabilities…”

Even a dumb half-joke like that has Mike laughing, and he sees the look Max gives him like, damn, you’ve got it bad.

Dustin grins around at them all, like this was exactly what was supposed to happen this evening, and Mike slowly starts to suspect that maybe, it actually is. And then Max confirms that suspicion by saying, “Guess you’ll both just have to sleep in Mike’s bed tonight, huh?”

“Yeah, since the sleeping bags are unusable, and all,” adds Lucas.

“Wet,” says El again.

And Mike is a second away from throttling them all, because maybe before he could have gotten away with letting Will take his bed, and just spent the night on the basement couch, but now that they’ve said it aloud, it would be weird for him to say ‘no, we can’t share a bed, Will, because actually I have extremely un-heterosexual feelings for you and I will probably end up holding your hand or doing something equally stupid.’

Will nudges his side. “Guess we will.”

And between that and the frankly demonic grins the rest of his friends are sporting right now, Mike knows he is absolutely, one hundred percent, completely doomed. Of course, this is Max’s plan. He should have seen that one coming.

Once Mike’s finished mopping the laundry (because he doesn’t even want to think about his mom’s face if he left it like that), they finally settle in the basement to watch a Christmas film. It passes far too quickly, and Mike feels like he barely has time to appreciate how Will sits next to him, legs tucked under himself, ankles and socked feet draped over Mike’s lap. Before he knows it, his mom is calling them all upstairs for dinner. And in what feels like an instant, the rest of the party has left, El has flounced upstairs to her room, and the parents are sipping mulled wine in the living room and talking about adult things. It’s only 9 o’clock, but he and Will wander up the stairs and set about getting ready for bed.

Mike dawdles in the bathroom after brushing his teeth, trying to put off the inevitable. He even takes the extra time to floss while giving himself another mental pep-talk, and by the time he’s pushing open his bedroom door, he feels almost confident.

“Hey,” he says, trying to sound casual. Will is sitting on his desk chair, absent-mindedly flipping through a comic book.

“Hi,” he says back, gesturing to the bed. “Want to go to sleep? I know it’s kind of early, but our flight was at, like, 2am this morning, and I feel like I’m about to collapse from exhaustion.”

Mike grins at him. “Well, we can’t have that can we?” He switches off his bedroom light and makes his way to his bedside, turning on his lamp. Before he can think too much about it, he slides under the covers, carefully positioning himself so none of his body crosses the halfway mark of the bed. Will doesn’t seem to have any such qualms because when he joins him, he curls up right next to Mike, nudging their ankles together, and turning to face him on the pillow.

“We haven’t done this in a while,” he says in a whisper.

“Not since we were maybe ten,” Mike agrees.

“Remember when you used to have a bunk bed? And I always would start in the top bunk, but if I ever left to go to the bathroom or something, I would never be able to climb back up the ladder in the dark, so I would just sleep with you instead.”

Mike laughs at the memory. “Yeah, you were way too short to even be climbing that ladder in the first place. The steps were weirdly far apart.”

Will nods in agreement and then says with a hint of teasing: “Well, I’m not that short now, am I? I’m almost as tall as you.”

“Almost,” Mike whispers back. “But not quite.”

Will hums in response and then yawns. “Okay, I really am tired now.” Then he hesitates. “Um, leave the lamp on?”

Mike nods quickly. “Of course.”

Will sends him a sleepy smile, and tugs the duvet over his shoulders. “Thanks,” he whispers. Mike watches as his eyes slowly flutter shut and his breathing evens out, and wow, Will was not joking when he said he was tired, because it took him all of about thirty seconds to fall asleep.

Mike does not experience the same luxury. He lies awake for what feels like hours, feeling hyper aware of every place Will is touching him, and really, Will couldn’t possibly have laid down any closer, could he? Mike’s almost falling off the edge of the bed, and he longingly eyes the large, empty space on the other side of Will. Of course, he doesn’t mind being close like this (quite the opposite, in fact), but the point remains; he is about two inches away from crashing painfully to the floor.

Carefully, he eases his arm free where Will is holding it, and tries to somehow maneuver his body over the top of Will’s and make it to the other side. Of course, his plan fails abysmally when Will rolls over and accidentally dislodges Mike’s arm, sending him toppling down onto him. Will lets out a sound of muffled confusion, and Mike scrambles off as fast as he can.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “It’s just me - I was kind of falling off the edge, so I tried to move.”

Will blinks his eyes open blearily and squints at him. “And you climbed on top of me? Instead of getting out of bed and walking to the other side.”

Right. That would have been the obvious solution. “I didn’t think of that.”

Will lets his eyes fall shut again. “Sorry for squishing you,” he mumbles. “I’ll lie further away.”

“No, it’s fine!” Mike says a little too loudly in his haste to let Will know that he really doesn’t mind. “It’s fine, I don’t mind. Let’s just lie a little bit more in the middle of the bed, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay,” Will says, and rolls back over towards Mike again, tucking his head under Mike’s chin. “Goodnight.”

Mike awkwardly wraps an arm around Will’s shoulders and wriggles around until he’s fairly comfortable, with Will’s head resting on his chest and his hair tickling his nose. He feels somewhat surprised that Will is being so affectionate, although they had been fairly tactile with each other before he moved away, so really, why would now be any different? But something about it being in bed makes it feel a million times more intimate and Mike’s stupid heart skips a beat.

He admits to himself that, annoyingly, Max’s plan seems to have worked incredibly well. He’s definitely not going to tell her that, but still. There’s a vague sense of gratitude floating around his body as he finally drifts off to sleep. Phase one is over, and they have two more to go.

Phase Two: Lucas’ Stratagem

After Max’s plan yesterday went off without a hitch, Lucas apparently decides to let Mike in on his own plan a little bit, and pulls him aside when the party arrives after breakfast.

“Okay, today is phase two,” he whispers. “It’s a two-pronged approach. A stratagem, if you will.”

“A stratagem?” Mike whispers back. “What are we meant to be out-strategizing?”

“Your romantic incompetence,” answers Lucas. And ouch. Mike secretly thinks that Will didn’t seem to mind his romantic incompetence last night, but he says nothing. “All you have to do today,” Lucas continues, “is be your usual hopeless self. It’s the perfect plan because it capitalizes on who you and Will are as people. You’re clumsy at the best of times, and Will is generally coordinated. The two prongs. It’ll be great.”

Mike quite honestly has no idea what Lucas is talking about, but the promise that his clumsiness is going to come in useful isn’t one that he particularly likes. It’s not his fault that his limbs are far too long for his own good.

He starts to understand when Lucas turns to the party, at large, and announces: “Ice skating.”

Mike fights back a groan. He sucks at ice skating. “Do we have to? I mean, it’s freezing out.”

“You’re just scared because you have terrible balance,” Max argues.

El jostles his shoulder and says, “Like bambi on ice.”

Will turns to look at him with wide, pleading eyes. “Come on, Mike. It’ll be fun. El and I skate all the time back in California, and the lake is so pretty this time of year.”

And when Will is looking at him like that, how could Mike possibly say anything but yes? “Fine. But if I fall on my ass, I’m holding all of you responsible.” He points a threatening finger around the room as Max rolls her eyes.

Will beams at him, and then ducks a little closer. “Don’t worry,” he says in an undertone as the party starts pulling on coats and hats. “If you’re really that bad, I’ll hold your hand.”

Okay, so maybe ice skating is, in fact, a terrific idea. He hates and loves the fact that Lucas most definitely saw this coming. He convinces his mom and Mrs Byers, who are drinking wine in the kitchen, to let them borrow a car, and after a warning to drive carefully, the party is off.

Lover’s Lake (and no, the irony of the name does not escape Mike’s notice), is always frozen over at this time of year, and it’s a long-held Hawkins tradition for it to be set up as an ice rink. Fairy lights have been strung over tree branches at the shore, and a stall is set up renting ice skates for a few dollars an hour. He pushes Will’s hand aside when he tries to pay, figuring that he should at least try to put a bit of effort into making this date-like. It’s definitely worth it when Will leans close to his ear to whisper a thank you that makes his neck tingle.

The party kick off their shoes and pull on their skates, and make their way (some with more difficulty than others) onto the ice. Will immediately speeds off, hand in hand with El and the two start a lap around the outskirt of the fenced-off portion of the lake that forms the rink. All bundled up in their winter coats and hats, they look closer to twins than siblings, and the sight makes Mike feel warm.

“So much for holding your hand, huh?” Lucas’ voice sounds in his ear.

Mike whirls around unsteadily on his skates. “You heard that?”

Lucas gives him a knowing smirk. “This is my plan, Wheeler. It’s my job to hear things.”

“Okay, calm down, you’re not a superspy.”

And then Lucas actually winks. “Maybe I am.”

Mike narrows his eyes, suspicious. “What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

Lucas just shrugs, and starts skating away towards Max.

“Lucas!” Mike shouts after him. “If you’re not going to tell me, at least help me skate!”

Dustin sidles up to him after Mike’s spent a few seconds hopelessly spinning on the spot. “Looks like it’s just you and me now, huh?”

Mike can’t help the longing glance he throws in Will’s direction. “Right. You and me.”

Unhelpfully, Dustin is almost as bad at skating as he is, and together they attempt to unsuccessfully propel themselves towards the center of the lake. (“You’re terrible at this-” “Oh, like you’re any better-” “Stop leaning on me!” “I have to lean on you, you’re shorter than me-”)

Eventually the Wonder Twins make their way towards them, probably out of pity. They stop right in front of Dustin and Mike, and Will looks frustratingly elegant on his skates.

Mike glares at him. “How the hell are you so good at this?”

Will simply grins, and reaches forward to take Mike’s hand, and Mike’s annoyance immediately evaporates. “Come on, I’ll teach you.”

El and Dustin seem to get the hint, and they start to skate away together, leaving Will and Mike standing on their own, right in the middle of the rink. In Mike’s mind he can picture that if they were looking at the lake from above, he and Will would be standing somewhere in the top-right-hand-corner of the heart that it’s shaped into.

“Your hands are freezing,” Will remarks, starting to tug Mike along. “Come on, move your feet a little. No - don’t lift them up! Just glide.”

“Easy for you to say,” Mike mutters, although he’s no longer irritated. “Tell me again how long it takes to learn this?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. El and I go skating pretty much every weekend. There’s not much else to do in Lenora Hills.”

He says Lenora Hills with a little eye roll that makes Mike pause. “I thought you were enjoying California?”

Will makes a face. “Well, yeah, I mean school is good - less bullies and all, and definitely less creepy supernatural stuff, but still.” He squeezes Mike’s hand. “It doesn’t have you.”

And that feels like an opening, if there ever was one. Mike squeezes his hand back. “I’ve really missed you. I know I say it on our calls all the time, but it’s true. Hawkins isn’t the same without you.”

Will’s face is flushed, and Mike hopes that it's from his words and not just from the cold. As they slowly shuffle along Mike has to fight the urge to do something ridiculous, like kiss Will. He settles for snatching the red beanie off Will’s head with his spare hand instead, and jams it on his own head.

“Hey,” Will protests. “Get your own hat.”

“This is my hat,” Mike informs him dryly. “You stole it from my wardrobe this morning.”

He expects Will to shoot another remark back at him, but instead he brings them to a stop, and slowly fixes how the hat is sitting on Mike’s head, tugging out a few pieces of hair that were caught. “Well, if you’re going to steal it back, at least wear it properly,” he says quietly.

Mike’s face feels much warmer than the hat could ever make him, and Will can definitely tell because he starts grinning. “Feeling warm?” he asks innocently.

Mike just punches his arm before grabbing his hand again. “Come on, let’s skate. I think I’m getting the hang of it now.”

He was not, in fact, getting the hang of it. But after a while (and more than a few stumbles that had Will catching him before he could topple onto the ice), he’s finally able to glide forward with some semblance of coordination. Both he and Will conveniently ignore the fact that they probably don’t need to hold hands anymore, and start making their way over to where the others have gathered near the shore.

“Well, don’t you two look adorable,” Lucas teases. Mike grabs a handful of snow from the bank and shoves it in Lucas’ face. The movement makes him tilt forward a little, and Will grabs him around the waist to steady him.

Lucas now looks positively gleeful. “Shut up,” Mike mutters. Then, because he wants a distraction: “There’s hot chocolate being sold on the other bank. Shall we?”

El quickly agrees, clapping her mittened hands together, and as one, they all set off. Mike may or may not purposefully stumble at the start so that Will holds his hand again. Max shoots him a look, but hey, it works, so Mike is not complaining. The others start up a light conversation that Mike lets fade into the background as he sneaks glances at Will out of the corner of his eye. Halfway across the lake, it starts snowing, and little snowflakes hang off Will’s eyelashes and hair. Against the wintery white background and the distant fairlights that glow in the trees, he looks ethereal. Of course, then he shoots an evil grin at Mike and shouts: “Race you!”, and Mike’s moment of inner awe is promptly ruined.

Groaning to himself, he attempts to follow the rest of the party as they speed across the lake, whooping and shouting. He’s vaguely impressed with himself when he makes it to the other shore in one piece, only a minute behind the others, and also ahead of Dustin. Will grins at him and presses a styrofoam cup of hot chocolate into his hands.

“Good job,” he says, steam from his own cup floating in front of his face. “You didn’t fall over.”

Mike takes a sip of chocolate and immediately regrets it as he burns his tongue. “Yeah, well, you’re a good teacher.” He sticks his tongue out and attempts to catch snowflakes to soothe the burn, and Will laughs at him. They make their way over to a quiet spot on the shore, a little ways away from the hot chocolate stand, and sit down on a tree root. Mike watches his friends as El attempts to teach them all to skate backwards.

Will presses his leg against Mike’s and asks: “Having a good time?”

“Yeah,” he replies, honestly. “Yeah, I really am.”

The smile that Will gives him is brilliant. “I’m glad.”

“I have a good time whenever I’m with you,” Mike blurts out, unable to stop himself. He promptly buries his head in his hot chocolate cup and blows so the steam rises, hiding his face from view.

Will is quiet for a moment before he speaks again. “That’s how I feel about you, too,” he says, voice soft. “You always make everything better.”

Mike feels as if someone has dumped his hot chocolate on his head, with the way his whole body is suddenly warm. Feeling daring, he wraps his arm around Will, and Will responds by tucking his head onto Mike’s shoulder. And for a moment, it feels like the whole world grinds to a stop. Mike can no longer hear the laughter of his friends, all he can feel is the gentle tickle of Will’s hair against his neck, and the sweet taste of chocolate in his mouth. He wonders if Will also tastes of chocolate.

Gently, he squeezes Will’s shoulder and says, “I wish you were here all the time. I know California’s been good for you and El, but still. I just wish you could stay for a little bit longer.”

Will rests his hand on Mike’s leg and exhales slowly. “I wish I could stay, too.”

There’s something in his tone that Mike doesn’t quite know how to place. Almost like he’s hiding something. But the moment is a little too perfect for him to press further, so he just accepts Will’s words with a smile that’s a little bit sad. At least, when they’re back in separate states, he can rest easy in the knowledge that Will misses him too.

Phase Three: The Dustin Conspiracy

The next morning commences day three: phase three. Mike has to admit that everything has gone surprisingly well so far, and when Dustin announces that it’s time for: “Christmas baking,” Mike is expecting today to go great. They stick on some Christmas music, pull a gingerbread recipe from a magazine, and get to work.

Of course, between the six of them, things rapidly devolve into chaos, as Lucas attempts to crack eggs, El tries to whip butter, and Dustin sits on the counter and calls instructions (“No, Lucas, don’t put the shell in-” “I’m not trying to put the shell in-” “Max that’s flour not sugar!” “And who died and made you head chef, Dustin?”).

Mike shoots Will a smile as they hunt around for the cookie cutters. “Our friends are so peaceful, aren’t they?”

“Oh, of course,” Will replies with a smirk. “So sweet and quiet.”

“Tender and mild,” Mike remarks as Silent Night plays over the speakers. They look at each other once more before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“Oh! Here.” Will pulls out a metal tin while Mike wipes tears from his eyes. “We haven’t used these since we were about six-years-old.”

“I remember that,” Mike says fondly. “We totally almost burnt down the kitchen.”

Will opens the tin and pulls out a reindeer cutter. “Yeah, we left them in the oven for too long and you cried like a baby.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Okay, did you miss the part where we were six-years-old?”

Will grins at him. “But you were so sweet though. You forced yourself to eat a whole cookie because you were so worried that I would be upset if you didn’t like them.”

Mike busies himself with unpacking the tin, feeling a little embarrassed. “I didn’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Wow, that’s weirdly nice of you, Mike,” Max says jokingly. “Where was that attitude when I came along?”

Mike flushes at her words, not realizing the rest of the room was listening in. It’s not often that he or Will share stories from before the party, when it was just the two of them, but he knows that Dustin and Lucas are always keenly interested. Sure enough, Lucas chimes in,

“Tell us more stories, Will.”

“Yeah, tell us baby Mike stories!” El’s face is bright with intrigue. “I want to hear.”

“Oh, sure,” Mike grumbles. “What, is it Embarrass Mike Day today?”

“Oh, come on,” Will pouts, and for a moment Mike does feel like a child again, as if he’s got six-year-old Will staring back at him. “Just one?”

Mike rolls his eyes and relents with a waved hand. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

He sets about stirring the ingredients together, because someone has to (what even is nutmeg?), while Will starts telling a story. Thankfully, it’s only about the one time that Will accompanied the Wheeler’s on vacation, and nothing too embarrassing.

As he fumbles his way through the recipe, he relaxes a little. He’s missed Will’s storytelling voice - it reminds him of the rare occasions when he would agree to be Dungeon Master. He can tell by the reactions of his friends, that they too are a little entranced. It’s not often that Will lets himself go like this, and really gets into something, but it certainly is a sight to behold. With the gingerbread dough done, Mike leans an elbow on the counter and rests his gaze back on Will. They lock eyes for a moment, and Will gives him a brilliant smile that makes his stomach flip. By the time the story ends, Mike has rolled out the dough and used the cookie cutters to make (slightly messy) reindeers and gingerbread men.

“So, I guess you’ve always been this stupidly earnest,” says Max. Mike considers the assessment. It’s something that Will has actually said to him before, albeit in a much nicer way. That one of his favorite things about Mike is how he acts with so much sincerity and conviction no matter the situation.

“Guess so,” he replies, shooting a sideways glance at Will, who is still smiling at him. “Let’s get these in the oven.” He gestures to the tray. “And, let’s not forget to take them out, this time.”

Will laughs and grabs the tray off the bench. “We can’t have you crying again, can we?”

They smile at each other for a second, reminiscing.

Of course, the moment is ruined when Dustin opens up the tin of cinnamon and tips it onto Will’s head.

“Dustin!” Will splutters, as powder rains down all over his hair and his sweater. “What was that for?”

“Oops,” Dustin says innocently. “Slipped.”

Mike waves his hand in front of his face and coughs slightly as cinnamon powder works its way into his lungs. He shoots a glare at Dustin, taking Will’s arm and walking him to the sink.

“Don’t open your eyes,” he warns. “It’s like, all over your face.”

He wets a paper towel and goes to hand it to Will, but he catches Dustin miming something out of the corner of his eye. A very over the top charade of him pretending to wipe something of El’s face, who is giggling in the corner. Mike rolls his eyes but gets the picture.

“Okay, hold still,” he says to Will, before gently wiping the towel over his eyelids. Feeling a little self-conscious under four sets of eyes he sends them all a glare over his shoulder.

“Would you lot do something useful? Like wipe up the mess? Or put the biscuits in the oven?”

They spring into action with sheepish grins, grabbing more paper towels to wipe cinnamon off the floor and benches, and Lucas shoves the baking tray into the oven.

“Am I good yet?” Will asks him. Mike wipes his face a few more times.

“Think so.” Will’s hazel eyes blink open and he sends Mike a grateful smile, before shaking his hair out like a dog. Mike laughs and grabs him by the arm to steady him when he gets a little dizzy.

Will blows his fringe out of his face and holds his arms out as if presenting himself for inspection. “Better?”

Mike looks at him consideringly. “I think you need a new jumper.”

Will makes a face and goes to pull his ruined jumper off.

“Just chuck it in the laundry,” Mike says. “I’ll grab you a new one.”

He runs up the stairs and into his room, spotting Will’s suitcase on the floor next to the bed. He pauses for a moment, considering, before turning to his own wardrobe and pulling out a forest green sweater that Nancy got him last Christmas, that has on it a little dinosaur wearing a Santa hat. He grins to himself. Perfect.

When he comes back downstairs, Will is apparently in the bathroom. Mike rounds on Dustin immediately. “What was up with that?”

Dustin gives him a knowing look. “It was the perfect plan, that’s what’s up. Close physical contact plus helping someone in a time of need? That’s a recipe for love if I’ve ever heard it.” Then, he points down at the sweater in Mike’s hands. “And that is definitely your jumper, you wore it last Christmas. Sharing clothes is romantic trope number one.”

Mike squints at him. “You sound like a conspiracy theorist. Or like you’ve read too many romance novels.”

Dustin just shrugs benignly and Will re-enters the kitchen, hair dripping.

“Dude, what did you do?” Lucas asks.

Will grimaced. “Stuck my head under the tap. I thought it would be a good way to get rid of the cinnamon.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” says Dustin.

Will sends him a look. “Sure you are.”

Mike hands him the jumper, and Will doesn’t say anything about the fact that it’s not his.

“Well.” Dustin claps his hands, looking pleased. “Let’s check on those cookies, shall we?”

Later on, when the party has left and Mike and Will are curled up in bed (yes, Mike didn’t feel the need to remind Will that the sleeping bags were now dry, and no, Will didn’t feel the need to ask), Will brings up the jumper thing. He’s still got it on, as the weather is just cold enough to wear sweaters to bed.

“So, this isn’t mine,” he says, tweaking the neckline.

Mike scrambles for an excuse. “Uh, I couldn’t find your suitcase?”

Will looks at him disbelievingly.

“I mean, I couldn’t find a jumper inside your suitcase?”

Will smiles. “It’s okay, Mike. I like this jumper.”

“Oh. Right.” Mike can’t stop himself from adding: “It looks good on you.”

Will says nothing, just ducks his head a little so it sits below Mike’s face. Mike suspects that he’s hiding a blush, which makes him ridiculously happy. And yep, sure enough, when Will pulls back his cheeks are slightly flushed.

“Your hair still smells like cinnamon,” Mike whispers.

Will grins and promptly shoves his head under Mike’s nose again. Mike pushes him gently away and sneezes. “God,” he says, eyes watering. “Dustin really did a number on you.”

Will shrugs, running his hand through his hair so it sits back off his forehead. “I like cinnamon.”

“You’re going to make my sheets smell,” Mike complains, although he really doesn’t mind.

“Yeah, and everytime you go to sleep, you’ll have good memories. That’s how olfaction works, right? You’ll smell a good smell and have nice dreams.”

Mike laughs. “Okay, nerd. When did you swallow a biology textbook? I’ll be sure to sniff my pillows real hard after you’re gone so I dream of you.”

Will smiles back, and Mike’s only half-joking, because the scent lingers in his nose and he’s sure that from now on cinnamon is only ever going to remind him of Will.

They settle down into the bed, and even after just two nights, Mike doesn’t hesitate to draw Will closer when he curls his body around Mike’s.

“Christmas Eve tomorrow,” he whispers. “You excited?"

He feels Will nod against his chest. “Yeah. I kind of like Christmas Eve better than Christmas Day. Just the anticipation of it all.” His words are blurry with sleep, so Mike just hums in response.

Will whispers a goodnight, and Mike just about whispers one back before he too drifts off, the scent of cinnamon in his nose. And you know what? That night he does have good dreams.

Phase Four (Suprise Edition): El’s Wisdom Saves The Day

Mike, Will, and El spend Christmas Eve morning babysitting Holly, and really, Mike doesn’t think he’s ever seen a more adorable sight than Will teaching his little sister how to draw. They lounge about the living room floor, eating candy canes with the radio on, and Mike spends most of the morning with a dopey smile on his face, which El definitely teased him about, but he’s far too gone on the whole situation to really care. Of course, when she drags him into the kitchen under the pretense of getting snacks, he starts to care a little more.

“What are you doing?” Blunt and straight to the point, as she always is.

“What do you mean?” Mike tries to dodge the question. “We’re babysitting Holly.”

El sends him a pointed look that Mike just knows she’s picked up from Max. “I mean, what are you doing with Will?”

“Oh, that.” Mike struggles for an answer. “I don’t really know.” Truthfully, there have been half a dozen times over the past few days where Mike thought that Will was going to say something to him. He had been hoping that something would be Will confessing his feelings because after all, Will had always been the brave one.

“The plans,” El prompts. “Have they been working?”

Mike fills up a glass with juice for her, and then for himself, just to give his hands something to do. “I think so,” he says slowly. “I mean we keep having all these moments.”

“Moments?”

“Yeah, like, when we were ice skating, or even last night when we watched that movie, he put his head on my shoulder.”

El sips her juice. “You want to know what I think?”

“Always.”

“I think plans are stupid. And we’re not stupid.”

“Well,” Mike says, thinking of the party. “We’re probably a little stupid.”

El giggles. “No, I mean that you don’t need a plan. Will’s my brother, and I know he is brave, but he will never tell you how he feels without you bringing it up first.”

“Well, maybe if I drop enough hints-”

“Hints?” El makes a face of disgust. “No hints. I hate hints. I wish people would just say how they feel, all the time. It would make everything so much easier.”

And Mike has to agree. “So, you think I should just confess? Just say it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Okay, but what if he doesn’t like me back?” Although a lot of his doubt had been washed away this week, Mike can’t help the little bit that remains.

El’s tone is gentle when she speaks. “Mike, none of that matters. Will loves you and he is always going to be your best friend. Even if he doesn’t feel the same, he won’t be angry. He would never be angry with you. You should just tell him.”

And that’s probably the most reassuring thing Mike has ever heard in his life.

“God, when did you get so wise?” He nudges El with his elbow.

El grins. “I’ve always been wise.” And for a moment, she seems so different to that little girl Mike had once hid in his basement.

“California’s been really good for you, huh?”

El nods. “Yes, it really has.” Then she pauses. “But I would still come back to Hawkins, if I could.”

“Really? Even after everything bad that’s happened here?”

“Hawkins is my home,” she says simply. “The first place I ever had a family. You, Max, Lucas, Dustin.” She floats her juice out of her glass and sends the bubble of liquid floating up towards the ceiling. “And now Will is my family, too. And I had brothers and sisters before, but they weren’t the same. Will and Jonathan and Joyce. They’re my family.” The juice falls back into the glass with a splash. “Me and Will have talked a lot. Helped each other. We understand each other. And I think we could do it - move back here.”

“Yeah?” Mike feels a little emotional. Not just about El and how free she’s become, but about the possibility that the Byers could once again call Hawkins their home.

“Yes. We’ve come a long way, Mike.”

He nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

They share a smile, and despite all their teasing and their hijinks, Mike feels truly grateful to have such great friends.

Then the doorbell rings and he hears Max shout, “Wheeler, open up. We’re freezing out here,” and the moment is effectively ruined.

He sends an exasperated glance at El. “Can’t get one moment of peace around here.”

The doorbell rings again, and El grins and runs into the hallway. “Who needs peace when you have friends?” she calls over her shoulder.

Mike supposes that’s true. The parents arrive back home a few minutes after the party, so he’s able to give Holly back to them, and join the others in the basement. Mrs Byers pokes her head in after a few moments and pulls El and Will away for ‘family stuff’, whatever that means. And with Will gone, so is Mike’s safety shield and the interrogation starts immediately.

“So, what’s been happening-”

“The ice skating was totally romantic. You guys looked like you were on an actual date-”

“I know that the sleeping bags are still in the laundry, Wheeler, so don’t even deny that my plan worked-”

“Okay, everyone shut up,” he says loudly. He tries to summarize. “Nothing has happened, ice skating was fun, don’t even talk to me about sleeping bags, and no, Dustin, cinnamon in the face is absolutely not romantic.”

“Hey, let’s not forget that there wouldn’t even be a plan, if not for me. Cinnamon or no cinnamon, I deserve credit.”

Mike makes a face. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Nothing’s even happened yet.”

“But you’ve shared a bed, right?” Max asks, leaning forward. “And Will is definitely not wearing his own jumper.”

“You held hands, basically all day at the ice skating rink. That has to mean something-”

“Okay, okay,” Mike holds his hands up, somewhat regretting even getting himself into this situation. “If something does happen - and that’s an if, I’ll let you know. Now, can we lay off the questioning? I feel like I’m in one of my mom’s rom-coms.”

“The fact that you even know what a rom-com is tells me everything I need to know,” says Max.

Mike flips her off.

“Mike!” Will’s voice travels down to the basement. “Come up here for a second?”

Lucas grins. “Better go see what he wants, huh?”

“Yeah, have fun up there, loverboy-”

“No, Dustin, absolutely not.”

Mike scurries up the stairs, feeling a little relieved to escape the questioning (and Dustin’s horrifying nicknames). He passes El on the way up. “Any idea what’s up?”

Her eyes gleam. “Good news, I think.”

That bodes surprisingly well, so Mike runs up the rest of the stairs, taking them too at a time. In the front hallway, Will is waiting for him.

“What’s up?”

Will doesn’t say anything, just grabs Mike’s arm and pulls him outside onto the back porch.

“Okay,” Mike laughs, as he follows. “What’s going on?”

Will pulls the back door shut, and turns to Mike. He’s beaming, eyes alight, and Mike suddenly thinks that this is it. His efforts over the past few days haven’t gone unnoticed. And Will’s about to tell him that he feels the same. That he likes him. Will opens his mouth to speak, and Mike’s heart just about jumps out of his chest.

“We’re moving back to Hawkins!” Will bursts out, looking giddy with happiness.

And…that’s not what Mike expected. His heart dampens a bit in disappointment, before he actually processes the words that Will said, and it speeds right back up again. “What?”

“Yeah! We decided just then. Well, officially decided - we’ve been talking about it for months and I wanted to tell you so bad, but I didn’t want to get your hopes up just in case - but we’re doing it. We’re moving back.”

The excitement in Will’s voice is palpable and Mike can’t help the reflexive smile that slides onto his face.

“This holiday, it was sort of like a trial run,” Will continues, a little less breathless than before. “To see if we could do it - you know, to see if me and El were okay. Make sure we don't feel anything, anymore.”

Mike nodded slowly, still feeling a little speechless.

“And we didn’t. So, we’re doing it. Just in time for senior year, too.”

And suddenly, Mike feels as if all his worries have evaporated. It was a quiet whisper of fear that he hadn’t expressed to any of his friends, when they first came up with the plan. That maybe, just maybe, if all of this worked, and Will did love him back, he would only end up going back to California and they wouldn’t even get to be together. Not properly. But now? The very thing he had wished for, ever since the Byers’ first moved away, was coming true.

Will’s still looking at him, eyes bright and hopeful, face plastered with a smile that makes Mike’s heart jolt. Distantly, he hears his friends' voices in his head. Dustin’s bold, ‘what’s the worst that could possibly happen?’ Lucas’ dry, ‘assuming, of course, that he’s not already in love with you.’ Max’s - well, Max’s voice is less of a voice and more of a very pointed look. And lastly, El’s gentle and understanding, ‘you should just tell him.’

“Mike.” Will’s voice is a little hesitant. “Everything okay?”

And Mike means to say something reassuring and celebratory, he really does. He means to tell Will how excited he is that he’ll finally be coming home. Instead, his mouth moves without any input from his brain.

“I love you,” he blurts. No bells and whistles, no ribbons or wrapping. Just that, plain and simple. I love you.

He looks up at Will, trying to gauge his reaction. Good or bad, he just needs to know what he thinks. Will’s face however, is schooled into a polite sort of confusion.

“Uh, I love you, too?”

And it hits Mike, that Will, in all his unwillingness to make any assumptions, doesn’t quite grasp his meaning.

“No, that’s not what I mean,” Mike manages, heart pounding. “I mean - of course, I love you, but I really mean that I love love you. Like I’m in love with you.”

And now Will’s face shows his feelings, eyebrows raised slightly in shock, mouth parted, eyes wide in a mix of confusion that moves to understanding that moves to something akin to affection.

“Romantically.” Mike feels the need to clarify. “I mean in a romantic sense.”

“Oh,” Will says softly. And then they both just stare at each other for a moment, and Mike feels like if Will doesn’t say something right now then he will actually explode.

Will takes a little step closer, and Mike hones in on his mouth, telling himself it’s only because if Will speaks, his non-existent powers of lipreading will allow him to understand quicker, just what he is saying. But Will’s mouth doesn’t start forming a sentence. Instead, it just moves closer, and closer, and closer, until he’s hovering just an inch away from Mike’s lips. Suddenly, Mike tears his eyes away from Will’s mouth (which looks soft and pink and oh, so kissable) and up to meet his gaze.

“Hi,” he whispers, and Will’s eyes crinkle in amusement.

“Hey.” Will shifts closer still, bracketing Mike against the porch railing with his arms.

“This is…cozy.” Mike mentally slaps himself for the awkwardness of that comment, but Will is huffing out a laugh that he can feel brush against his lips, and all rational thoughts disappear from his brain.

“Mike?” Will breathes, voice barely more than a whisper. Mike doesn’t think he’s managed a reply, but Will continues on anyway. “I love you, too.”

Then Will tilts his head forward, just a little bit more, and kisses him. And any semblance of sanity that Mike has left in his brain immediately melts into a puddle and seeps out of his body and between the porch floorboards. Will’s kiss is somehow exactly what Mike expected. It’s just Will. Soft and sweet, but also sure of itself, with a hand reaching up to gently hold Mike’s jaw. He tastes of peppermint, like the candy canes they were just eating, and his lips are warm. He eases Mike back against the railing, and Mike lets him, sure that if Will’s other hand wasn’t holding his waist, he would currently be collapsed on the floor.

When Will pulls back, Mike feels in a daze. He vaguely registers that Will is saying something to him, and pulls enough power back into his brain to ask: “What? Sorry, what did you say?”

Will gives him a knowing little grin, like he is well-aware of the effect he is having. “I asked if this is why you’ve been acting so weird? Not just you, but everyone.”

“Oh,” Mike says, cheeks flushing. “Maybe a little bit. We were kind of trying to make you fall in love with me - we had a whole plan and everything. Three steps.”

“Three whole steps?” Will teases. “Well, too bad the whole thing was unnecessary, because I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Mike pretends that he doesn’t hear the amazed little giggle that exits his own voice box. “Lucas said something like that. That the plan assumed that you weren’t already in love with me.”

“Ah, yeah, he kind of already knew,” Will admits sheepishly.

“What ? He knew?”

“Well, falling in love at eleven-years-old is a big deal! I had to tell someone, and it’s not like I could talk to you, so Lucas seemed like a good option.”

Mike shakes his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe he knew this whole time.”

“Yeah, we’ve had a lot of phone calls about it,” Will says. And then Mike pauses, as he realizes something.

“Eleven-years-old? You fell in love with me when you were eleven-years-old?”

Will flushes. “Um, yeah. It’s been a long time, I know, but-”

“I was ten,” Mike cuts him off, and Will blinks up at him. “I was ten when I fell in love with you.”

“Oh,” Will breathes. Then his face breaks out into a grin and he pokes Mike in the ribs. “So, you totally fell first. I am never going to let you live that down.”

And then he darts forward once more to place a quick kiss on Mike’s lips. When he goes to pull back, Mike grabs onto the front of his sweater - no, Mike’s sweater, that Will is still wearing - and holds him in place. He feels Will smile against his lips for a moment, before he obliges and kisses Mike again.

Mike lets his brain go fuzzy and focuses on the smooth, warm movements of Will’s mouth. He lets himself get swept away on the wave that’s crashing through his body, making his stomach feel pleasantly warm, and his skin tingle. Where Will learnt to kiss like this, Mike has no idea, but he isn’t complaining. When Will pulls back, Mike has to physically stop himself from chasing his lips again, and Will huffs out a little laugh.

He feels as if a million thoughts should be racing through his brain right now - he should be trying to process the wave of happy emotion he is currently feeling, but instead when he opens his mouth, all he manages to say is: “Kiss me again?”

And yep, he supposes that just about sums up the only coherent thing in his head right now. Luckily, Will obliges, and tilts his chin up to capture Mike’s lips in another kiss. And wow, it’s just as head-swimmingly good as the last two, and Mike knows he is never going to get sick of this feeling. Will retreats though, after only a brief moment and bumps his forehead gently against Mike’s.

“We should probably head back inside. The others will be wondering where we are.”

Mike’s about to protest, but then he thinks about everyone coming looking and finding them kissing on the porch, and makes a face. He doesn’t think he could stand the smug looks.

“Yeah,” he agrees, tangling Will’s hand in his own. “Let’s head back inside.”

He lets Will pull him towards the basement, and they pause on the stairs. Will holds up their joined hands. “Should we just tell them now? Get it over with?”

Mike’s about to agree, when another thought occurs to him. He looks at Will with a conspiring grin. “Or, we could make our own plan.”

Understanding blooms on Will’s face and he grins wickedly (and damn, if mischievous is not a good look on him). After a few minutes of planning, they push open the basement door, hands still joined. The chattering of their friends grinds to a halt, and Mike can see four sets of eyes look at his and Will’s hands, and then look frantically at each other.

“We have news,” Will says brightly, pulling Mike down onto the couch, so close he’s almost sitting in his lap. The others glance at each other once more, before jumping into a flurry of motion. Dustin drops the VHS tapes he was holding, Lucas and Max hurry over from where they were chatting by the window, and El releases her hold on the Millenium Falcon toy she was hovering, letting it drop to the ground with a crash. All four scramble over furniture items to come sit, stand, and kneel in front of the couch, and Mike feels vaguely like he’s a kindergarten teacher about to read a storybook. He nudges Will’s arm and asks: “Ready?”

Will nods and looks across at them all, pausing for a long moment to let the tension build. “Okay. Our news is…”

He stalls for an unbearably long time, so Mike pinches his side, wanting him to just spit it out so they can get their friends' reactions.

“Okay, okay. We’re moving back to Hawkins!”

“What?”

“That’s your news?”

“But what about-” El catches on quickly, and shuts Dustin up with an elbow to the side.

“Yes! That’s the big news,” she says, standing up and shoving herself onto the armrest of the couch next to Will. She slings her arm around his shoulder. “We’re moving back! For senior year.” She glances down at everyone’s shocked faces. “Well, aren’t you all pleased?”

Immediately, the rest of the party scramble out their happy responses. Max jumps up and squeals, wrapping El into a hug as Lucas and Dustin do the same to Will. Due to their proximity, Mike gets an elbow or two in the ribs and he shoves both of them off.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs. He slides his hand onto Will’s leg and grins internally at the way Dustin’s eyes boggle. “Glad you’re all so pleased.”

Will leans forward and rests his chin on a hand, face breaking into a cheeky smile. “You all seemed so shocked. I mean, what other news were you possibly expecting?” Then he slides his hand into Mike’s where it’s resting in his lap, with a big exaggerated movement that draws everyone’s attention.

Lucas stares at Will, as if attempting to telepathically communicate. Will just stares at Mike who, in turn, stares at Dustin, who stares at El, who stares (and probably succeeds in telepathically communicating) at Max, who stares back at Lucas.

Max is the first one to break the silence. “You’re fucking with us, aren’t you?”

And that’s enough to send Mike into a fit of laughter.

At once, four voices break into excited chatter.

“I told you, Mike. Didn’t I say that this was a good idea-”

“I know that my plan worked best. Ice skating is the perfect date-”

“Oh, come on, Lucas, you seriously think yours was the best? The sleeping bags are literally still in the laundry-”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Will laughs. “Everyone calm down.”

“So,” says El. “Are you dating now?”

Mike glances sideways at Will, feeling a little embarrassed by all the attention. And by the fact that they hadn’t actually taken the time to decide on that answer. But Will smoothes away his worries with a quick nod of his head.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

“Are you kidding? This is a huge deal-”

“You so owe us, Mike. This whole plan was a huge success-”

Mike sees Will’s confusion and leans over to give him a brief overview of the whole plan thing. “It’s kind of embarrassing, really,” he mutters at the end.

Will sends him a bright smile. “Nah. It’s kind of sweet.”

Max mimes vomiting at them, so Mike throws a pillow at her.

“So, Will, enlighten us. Did our plans work?”

Will contemplates. “Well, Lucas’ definitely. Max’s was a nice addition. Dustin - your plan was just chaos and I’m still finding cinnamon in my hair.”

“Hey-” Dustin tries to object, but Mike cuts him off.

“El’s plan worked the best.”

The others look around at each other in disbelief. “What? El didn’t even have a plan, she helped with mine,” says Max.

El smiles from her perch next to Will. “My plan was the best plan, because it wasn’t a plan.”

“She basically told me just suck it up and get it over with,” Mike explains. “Really, someone should have said something sooner.”

“We tried-”

“You wouldn’t hear a word of it-”

“Oh, so now you’re capable of talking to Will like a normal person-”

Will ducks his head down to stage-whisper in Mike’s ear. “They’re just so supportive, aren’t they?”

“Truly, we have incredible friends.”

Will laughs and wraps an arm around El. “Well, I definitely have an incredible sister.”

And honestly, the whole moment is so incredibly saccharine that if Mike was surrounded by any other group of people, he would have found the entire thing obnoxious. But he supposes that they are a bunch of sixteen-year-olds at the end of the day, and this has been a long time coming, so he sits back and lets the conversation wash over him.

After the chaos dies down a bit, Dustin brings back their attention to what is really, the most important question.

“Wait, so, you weren’t joking before right? With the whole distraction bit? You really are moving back to Hawkins?”

Will and El exchange glances. “Yeah, we are,” Will says. “The lab and the Upside Down - it’s all gone now. And it’s been long enough that El won’t be in danger, and long enough that living here doesn’t feel like a nightmare, anymore. So, yeah. We’re moving back.”

Will’s words bring the tone down just a notch, and Mike finds himself feeling silently grateful as the high-strung energy seeps out of the room.

Max gives a firm nod and turns to El. “It’s going to be okay. In fact, it’s going to be great. And nothing’s happened for almost two years. You’ll be safe.”

“I know we will,” El says. “I’m sure of it.”

They all settle a little as the news sinks in. Lucas pulls El into a celebratory hug, and Dustin beams around at them all.

“The party,” he proclaims with grandeur. “We were once apart, but now: together once more.”

Everyone collectively rolls their eyes (“Dustin, stop being pretentious-” “You seriously have got to start talking normally-” “You’re so overdramatic-”).

But the message sinks in nonetheless. The party is back, and they’re back for good. Mike grins to himself and nudges Will in the side.

“Worthwhile trip, right?” he whispers. “And it’s not even Christmas Day yet.”

“Like I said,” Will whispers back. “Christmas Eve is always so much better.”

And he’s right. Between the overlapping chatter of his friends, the faint sound of Christmas music and wine glasses clinking from upstairs, the way Will is sitting next to him, their ankles tangled together, Hawkins has never felt more like home.

#ao3 #fanfic #fic upload #byler endgame #will byers #byler fanfic #fic reupload #stranger things 5 #stranger things fanfic

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formereldestdaughter · 10 months ago

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ok wait i need to hear more of your thoughts on peeta owning a bakery....

This is one of those rare times where I’m pretty sure this anon isn’t someone I know personally bc I’ve subjected anyone who will listen to my rant about the Peeta Bakery Headcanon. Anyway, you’re gonna regret asking this anon bc there are fucking Layers here.

I know this is probably a controversial take based on the number of fics where I’ve seen it, but I simply do not think that Peeta would open a commercial bakery after Mockingjay!! Like on a metatextual level, I don’t think it really fits with the point of the ending of the series. It actually sort of fascinates me that it’s just such a common headcanon because the ending of Mockingjay is exceedingly vague. I think that vagueness invites us, as readers, to imagine a better world post-revolution. A world where Katniss would feel confident that her children would be safe from injustice, where she’d feel confident that her children would never know want the way she did as a child. A just world. A kinder world. Can a capitalist society ever be just? Is a capitalist society where a disabled teenager has no other means to subsist himself (or feels like there’s no other way he can be a contributing member of his community) really the post-revolution world we dream of? Is that really the best we can imagine?

(This got so insanely long I’m adding a read more lmao)

I get that showing a better world is not always the point of post-mockingjay headcanons/fics. Like there are plenty of really great post-mockingjay fics I’ve seen where, yeah, part of the fic is that society like ISN’T all that different or all that much better. I’ve seen that really well done! Hell, I’ve written them myself! It’s easy to imagine how a lot of aspects of society would not get an overhaul, a lot of the same structural inequalities would continue to exist. One headcanon that really stuck with me (I can’t remember which fic it was from) was that Peeta sells basically mail order baked goods to people on the Capitol, sending them iced cakes and pastries by train, because there are still people who were “fans” of theirs during the Games. And idk this doesn’t actually have much to do with my point lol but I liked it because it’s kind of fucked up and like! Yeah! It makes sense! If he needed money that would be a good way to make it! War often makes people rich, often for horrible reasons, and often it’s people who already have capital in the first place.

Anyway, more about the hypothetical bakery because alright. I bring up the fact that “yeah society not being all that different post-revolution and still being an unjust capitalist hellscape” could be a reason why Peeta re-opens a bakery because that’s actually never the types of fics where I see the bakery headcanon. Fics where Peeta opens a bakery are usually trying to make the exact opposite point. Like. Things are getting better, now he can open a bakery! Look at how much better the world is now, plus he’s got a bakery! Peeta is healing, that’s why he can open a bakery now! And I am so, so sorry to inform everyone who’s never had the grave misfortune of owning a family business, but there is truly nothing further from the truth lmao. Like just putting aside the immense amount of emotional baggage that Peeta has about his family, running a small business is an insane amount of work in any context and being a baker especially is physically grueling and involves early hours (and long hours) that aren’t really the best fit with the multiple ways that Peeta is disabled now. (I could go into this more because I have a lot of thoughts. But I will spare you.). I also think it’s seen throughout the books that Peeta is someone who needs time to pursue creative outlets to process his feelings and someone who values leisure and values quality time with his loved ones. And having grown up in his family’s bakery, I think he’d understand the reality that running a bakery wouldn’t leave much space of those pursuits and wouldn’t leave much space for him to have the things that keep him healthy and stable. I think he’d know that the way he is now— after two Games and the war and unspeakable torture at the hands of a dictator—isn’t compatible with the lifestyle necessary for running a commercial bakery.

And tbh with that in mind, I don’t think he’d push himself to re-open a business (one that would be a constant reminder of his dead family and his complicated relationships with them that got no closure) that would require him to sacrifice his physical and emotional well-being. Like I think he might look into the possibility, I think he might even start trying to open a bakery out of a sense of obligation/duty, maybe harboring some idea that this is who he was supposed to be, who he would've been without the Games, or that it’s this last piece of his family that can live on, or that it’s this last connection to his family so he can’t let it die too. But ultimately, I think any attempt to open a bakery wouldn’t get very far. Maybe he'd start wading into the logistical nightmare that is small business ownership and realize it's not for him (because it's probably also true that as much as him and his brothers were involved in the business, there's almost certainly parts they weren't involved with and didn't see, i.e., filing taxes). Or maybe looking into opening a bakery— how triggering it is, the stress of it— causes a downward spiral. Maybe he hates how much he's worrying everyone by unraveling. Maybe having a breakdown from the stress of just trying to open a bakery makes him realize, yeah, maybe in another life he would have ran his family’s bakery but the way he is now just doesn’t work with running a bakery, not without great sacrifices he's not willing to make. I just can’t see a bakery coming to fruition.

I know a lot of fics include Peeta deciding to reopen a bakery as a big step in his healing or include him rebuilding a bakery as part of his healing process but honestly, I think the opposite would be more true: I think Peeta either trying/failing to open a bakery or ultimately deciding not to open a bakery would be hugely healing for him. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way he is now as a person, his new limitations but also his strengths. I think it would be a huge part of him accepting the way his life his now and accepting that he likes his life the way it is, that he’s satisfied with his life without needing to own a bakery. I think it would be an important part of him coming to terms with the loss of his family. I think he knows he can never have things back as they were and I don’t think he would try to recreate them, especially because his family’s legacy isn’t a business. I think he’s emotionally intelligent enough and self reflective enough to realize that what mattered to him about the bakery— taking care of others by feeding them, being integrated into his community and being actively involved in it, brightening people’s days with delightful things whether that’s beautiful cakes or hearty food or delicious treats— and the things he learned from his family through the bakery, are things that he can carry on in other meaningful ways.

(Do you regret sending this ask yet, anon? Because if not, you will soon. I’m not done yet. There’s more.)

I wasn’t really sure where to put this next part in what is rapidly becoming an essay because it sort of combines the points about like “what do we imagine a post-mockingjay society to look like” with the practical difficulties of starting this bakery but here’s another thing: do people really think that the Mellarks owned the land the bakery was on?? Like, sure, the merchants are the petit bourgeois of Twelve but I still don’t imagine they really own anything. In a society where houses are assigned to people upon marriage, where property ownership and capital are so closely interconnected with citizenship (as shown by the Plinths who, by having immense capital, are able to leave their District and become citizens of the Capitol) do people really think the Mellarks would be allowed to own the land their bakery is on?? I always imagined it sort of like a tenant farming situation: the Capitol gives them the raw materials for the bakery and in return the bakery give them some absurdly high portion of their profits, or the Capitol sells them a year’s supply of raw materials at a premium on credit and at the end of the year the Mellarks have to use the money they made with those materials to pay it back, except it’s never enough to turn a profit so they always have to buy next year’s materials on credit and the cycle continues.

We (understandably) get a really skewed view of the merchant class through Katniss’s perspective so I can see why people come to the conclusion that his family owned the property and, as the last surviving member, he would’ve inherited it. I’ve seen the inheritance thing in fics a lot or a hand wavey “well Twelve was decimated to no one owns anything anymore so it can be his” or even like an almost sort of reparations type situation where he’s entitled to the land as a surviving refugee of Twelve. But I don’t know. I guess I don’t think it fits with everything else we know about Panem that the Mellarks would’ve owned that land and I think the question of whether the government would’ve let him take ownership of the land post-revolution brings up a lot of issues about the structure of society post-Mockingjay that I find more interesting to explore in other ways, especially when, from an emotional perspective, 1) I find the idea of Peeta not opening a bakery more compelling and 2) I don’t think it really fits his character arc by the end of Mockingjay to reopen a bakery, as I went on about at length above lol.

On the flip side: literally who cares!! Do whatever you want!! Headcanon whatever you want!! I get why people go for the bakery!! It’s fun, it’s wholesome, it’s a built in bakery AU that isn’t even an AU. It doesn’t matter if it’s practical or realistic!! It doesn’t need to be practical or realistic!! It’s fanfic of a dystopian YA series!! My unfortunate affliction is that I grew up in a family that owned a restaurant and that I have multiple degrees in the social sciences so I can’t see the bakery without being like “What about the overheard? What about the start up costs? Who’s spending long nights balancing the books? Is Peeta covering shifts when an employee calls in sick? Is Peeta the sole person working there until the bakery is open long enough (often a year or more) to start turning a profit? How does that sleep schedule work with his nightmares? How does that work with Katniss’s nightmares? What happens when he has an episode and suddenly needs to take the day off before he has any employees? Does the bakery just remain closed for the day? Can the profit margins withstand regular unexpected closures? Can the supplies withstand regular unexpected closures?” And if the answer is “Elliott none of those things matter he’s not doing the bakery because he needs the money but because he wants to”, then my question is why does he want to? Does he not get the same sort of satisfaction out of feeding his loved ones? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would rather give away baked goods than sell them?? Doesn’t Peeta seem like someone who would prefer to make cakes for people’s special occasions upon and then when they insist on paying him for it, he only lets them “pay for the ingredients” which actually cost significantly more than he says they did??

So yeah my point is that it’s a matter of personal taste! It doesn’t fit the way I see the series but that doesn’t mean it’s like wrong, I’m not an authority on Peeta lmao.

It’s also a matter of personal taste in the sense that I find the themes that most resonate with me at the end of Mockingjay (and the end of Peeta’s arc specifically) more interesting to explore in other ways. Grief, living with loss, relearning yourself, finding hope, figuring out your place in a dramatically different world when you don’t even know who you are anymore, healing, building a new life after such complete and total destruction of your old life— those are all things I find compelling about the end of Mockingjay but for me the bakery isn’t the most compelling way to explore them.

Not to say I find the concept of the bakery totally uninteresting. I have this fic about Johanna that I’ll probably never finish where the point sort of is that, yeah, her life really isn’t all that much better after the war. It’s been years at this point and she’s still miserable and she doesn’t know how to be a person but by the end she’s trying to figure it out. And towards the end, Peeta tells her that he’s spent years sort of passively, half-heartedly trying to figure out how to inherit the land his family’s bakery was on, only to find out it was never theirs in the first place. They’d been renting it the whole time and he’d never even known as a kid. So he sort of passively, half-heartedly went on another wild goose chase to find the owner and now, finally, after years of writing to various government agencies and being sent in circles and things being barely functional, he’s managed to track down the owner. Now it’s owned by the daughter of the man who owned it when he was a kid because the original owner (who was likely up to some sketchy war crime shit) died during the war and she inherited it (the irony…). He got in contact with her and asked how much it would take for her to sell it and she told him she’s not interested in selling but in light of the situation, in light of the fact that he’d have to build a new building in order to operate a bakery, that she’d cut him a deal— she’d only require 50% of the bakery’s profits as rent instead of the 80% his family used to pay. And of course Johanna is outraged, that’s not right, the owner shouldn’t be allowed to do that, they should do something about it, they should fight back. And Peeta is like. Not interested. He was actually sort of relieved that opening wasn’t very feasible. Getting the answer was a lightbulb moment where he saw that over the years of trying to look into this, he’s built a life that he likes— one where he’s stable, where his loved ones are stable, where he’s cared for and can care for others— and he doesn’t really want to change it drastically by opening a bakery anyway. He just needed an answer, one way or another, before he could get some closure and move on. (And the point of the conversation is Johanna is having her own lightbulb moment that it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to change, it’s not a betrayal of the people and things she’s lost but that’s not my point here!!).

But anyway. That’s obviously not about running the bakery— it’s about the choice to not run one.

Anyway!! Anyway… are you satisfied anon? Is this what you wanted?

Lastly, here is my most important qualm with the bakery headcanon: must Peeta be gainfully employed? Is it not enough for him to be Katniss’s boytoy? Can’t he just paint and garden and bake and hang out with his girlfriend all day? Is that really too much to ask?

#peeta mellark #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games meta #anyway wow this got so long and I literally read it through one (1) time so uhhh sorry if this makes no sense!!#as I was doing my one read through and realized that one of my other thoughts on this is that yeah I can much more easily see the #headcanon that peeta like sells baked goods (probably at cost with no profit) out of his kitchen because that’s much more flexible #and I think that would work a lot better with what like I guess I’d call his psychiatric disability post mockingjay #and how he’d certainly want to take care of Katniss too #like that sort of flexibility makes a lot more sense for him and it’s like. if he doesn’t bake for a few days or however long then it’s fin #it’s not a formal brick and mortar business #it’s just something he’s doing because it’s a way to be involved with people and a way to do something he’s passionate about #without there being waste and while covering some of the costs #and he doesn’t have to like keep books or do payroll or any of the things I can’t see him being very passionate about #as far as like bakery management goes Lmao he can just bake!!#but then I started getting into this whole thing about how that quote-unquote ‘running a business’ like that (informally from your house)#is actually a really common practice for people living in poverty so probably something that Katniss and peeta would’ve been familiar wirh #anyway and then this whole rant about how the emphasis on the brick and mortar bakery often goes hand in hand with #this widespread fandom thing of having a fundamental misunderstanding of how rural poverty works and what it looks like #but then I was too deep into it and said you know what? never mind! and deleted it lmao

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