#mike wheeler is wearing a sweater in that photo.

[fairyrona]

like mother like son, smoking with boyfriend behind a barn

[ladyfromaspookyforest]

Wheeler/Byers Wardrobe Analysis

Season 1 Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Hello, hello, hi. Continuing this journey through Stranger Things attire. And I want to preface quickly that I don’t have an agenda. I’m just examining the clothes as I go and seeing what I think they tell me. I'm not digging for evidence of anything.

Anyway, Episode 3! Nancy gets home from Steve’s house and is confronted by Karen in her lil PJs. Do these PJs seem familiar? Oh yeah. They look like Nancy’s.

The next day at school, post red-stripe-shirt-at-the-pool-party, Nancy’s wearing another light sweater, a common Nancy top choice. But this one’s intriguing to me because while it contains the same two colors she usually wears, they’re darker. Darker blue and more of a brick red, but they’re small stripes on this delicate sweater. We also saw her wear stripes for the first time in the aforementioned red shirt. So this outfit here feels like a compromise between what she chose for Steve for the party and what she usually chooses for herself because of the stripes. The darker colors I think are not intended to reflect Steve in any way, but Nancy's state of mind. She's worried about Barb and feeling conflicted about the whole experience of losing her virginity. She's paranoid right off the bat when she walks into school that people are looking at her differently. She's feeling weighed down and the shades of her colors are reflecting that.

I was also immediately into Steve’s shirt here because Steve, for the entirety of this season, wears blue. But here, and only here, the blue has shrunken down to a few stripes on this shirt. This shirt which also contains pastel pink, a color Nancy is often wearing or surrounded by, but not wearing in this scene. Both Nancy and Steve are wearing clothes that reflect one another more than usual, and yet they don't quite match. This is the most I can recall Steve ever reflecting the Wheeler color palette (I'll find out if I'm wrong later). This is also the day after he slept with Nancy. So I think his choice to wear Wheeler colors afterwards shows that he feels closer to Nancy while her choice to wear darkened colors shows that she's feeling hesitant and unsure.

Here, Karen has dressed Holly up in light pink and blue (as per usual), but she herself is wearing a navy and teal plaid dress with black tights. She wears plaid a lot, but in order to bring a casserole to Joyce (a mourning behavior), she’s donned darker colors than usual. This scene already felt uncomfortable to me, like Karen doesn’t know how to behave because she’s giving Joyce a casserole (like when someone in the family has died) even though Will is not yet believed to be dead. Maybe this isn't unusual. I apologize for my ignorance on casserole etiquette, but it’s an awkward moment there at the door. And Karen’s wardrobe choice here makes me feel even MORE like she doesn’t know how to behave. She’s intentionally dressing less light and happy than usual but not in the official mourning color. And dressing Holly the way she usually does really shows this juxtaposition because Karen often matches Holly to herself. So this is like looking right at how Karen usually presents herself next to how she's choosing to now.

This episode puts Mike in this green and blue striped shirt. In the first photo, he’s talking with El before he goes to school. El is dressed in Mike’s clothes, a navy pullover and grey sweatpants. Blue is Mike’s color and grey is a neutral he (and Nancy) is often seen in. For example, in earlier episodes, both Mike and Will wore shirts with blue and yellow stripes, but Mike’s was also grey and Will’s was also brown. Grey is a cool toned color, a Wheeler neutral, while brown is a warm, earthy Byers neutral. So El’s outfit is screaming I BORROWED THIS FROM MIKE WHEELER in every way. She then spends the day wandering the Wheeler house and examining everything. She’s basically trying to figure out what it means to live like a Wheeler, to have grown up in this home with these parents and with blood siblings. She’s trying to put herself figuratively in Mike’s shoes while literally wearing his clothes.

And back to the Wheeler vs Byers neutrals, I really love that Mike is wearing this tan jacket when he goes to school. It’s a very Byers jacket. It’s got corduroy on the collar and brick accents on the inside. In the screenshot here, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas are being harassed by the bullies making fun of Will. They also trip Mike despite the fact that it’s Will they’re mocking. Basically, they’re treating Mike as a proxy Will while Mike is wearing this Byers-esque jacket. He’s also wearing the jacket for the remainder of the episode as the party hunts for Will (and as they witness his "body" being pulled from the quarry), but he was not wearing at home with El while his attention was on her.

I forgot to mention this jacket in my last post, but Mike also wore it in episode 1 while the bullies were harassing him. And he leant the jacket to El after they found her in episode 2.

She's wearing this big yellow shirt (Will's color) and Mike puts her in this Byers-y jacket. El isn't really El to him yet in this scene. She's some strange girl they found while looking for Will who Mike keeps around in hopes of her helping him find Will. So in addition to El wearing Mike's clothes in episode 3 and acting like Mike, in episode 2, she's wearing a Will-coded outfit and being valued for her connection to Will. The wardrobe for El this season has no reflection whatsoever on who she is as a person because she doesn't know yet nor do the other characters. So when Mike was at home with her in the red shirt, no jacket (episode 2), that moment felt more about the two of them getting to know each other outside of how she can help him find Will.

Joyce has been wearing this same outfit since late episode 1. Jonathan also wore the same outfit during both episodes 1 and 2, but now he’s changed his clothes and what he has changed into…is the same shirt he was wearing in the flashback in episode 2. Obviously, the episodes that go by without Joyce or Jonathan changing their clothes speak to how panicked by Will’s disappearance they are. But once he does change his clothes, the choice for Jonathan to put on the same shirt he was wearing in a memory he was just reflecting on is really curious. And by “choice,” I mean on a grander, show-level. Not Jonathan’s choice. He’s seen snagging this shirt up without even glancing at it and tossing it on as he gets out of bed. The costume department chose to put Jonathan back in this shirt we’d just seen him in via flashback for a reason. I find it notable that Jonathan changes his shirt again before going to school. He just spent two days in the same outfit and now he cares enough to change twice in the same morning? Weird. That’s all I’m saying. Maybe it reminded him of that same moment just like Should I Stay or Should I Go coming on in the car did, and maybe it was too hard for him to think about it again. So he changed. Or maybe it felt too light for the mood he was in.

During the Steve Hulk Camera Smash scene, Jonathan is wearing black and a dark grey or dark denim button-down. Dark colors. Darker than usual. The polar opposite of the first shirt he put on that morning. He usually has more earth tones in his wardrobe than this and I think this choice is less about mourning, as the dark colors could indicate, as it is about guilt. This is because even after he believes Will to be dead, Jonathan doesn’t start wearing blacks. This scene, instead, takes place after he does his stalker photo shoot of Steve’s party. So the dark colors are very likely a reflection of how he feels inside, having done something dark. He took photos of other people, including Nancy undressing, without consent and despite the fact that we know this is not what he set out to do, he did do it, spur of the moment. Now in the aftermath, he feels guilty and ashamed.

EPISODE FOUR

I had to lighten this one a lot to really see what the colors are. Karen is still wearing the dark plaid dress from the last episode while Ted is wearing what appears to be a white button down with red and blue checkprint. Very Wheeler. He’s continuing to present himself in the Wheeler fashion while Karen is struggling with figuring out how to present herself. When she got dressed, Will was missing. Now, in this screenshot, Will has been declared dead and Barb is missing. Karen doesn’t know how to be there for her children (or for Joyce earlier) and the way she dresses in this episode reflects that she feels like she can’t continue on the way she has been. (side note: check out the couch and throw pillow. Wheeler pastels)

Here’s Karen later (sorry I don't have a full body shot). She’s wearing a cream turtleneck, a dark grey vest, and black pants (out of the shot). Her prints, her checks, and her pastels are gone.

Nancy and Steve fight. She’s wearing pink (just pink) and he’s wearing blue with maroon stripes. Going back to what I said about their outfits in the previous episode, it looks like Steve is still sporting Nancy’s influence while she has dropped his. This is the first time we’ve seen Nancy in a solid color with no prints or detailing, her PJs aside. Even her purple sweater from E2 contained threads of other colors. So she’s in solid pink, she says to Steve, “I can’t believe you,” then she walks away and leaves him in the alley. And WHAT DOES THIS PARALLEL?

I’ll get to that scene later, but for now, I’m intrigued by the fact that both Steve and Nancy are wearing grey in the season 2 fight whereas in this season 1 fight, they’re wearing opposing colors, though Steve’s shirt contains bits of Nancy’s coloring, which shows that he’s more invested in Nancy than she is in him. This is probably a contentious point to make for season 1 considering he’s being a douche in this scene and making Barb’s disappearance about himself. BUT I stand by the fact this his feelings for Nancy are stronger than her feelings for him, even here, despite the fact that he’s lousy at showing it and his mind is in the wrong place.

In season 2, they’re actually on a lot more common ground. Maybe this is why they’re wearing the same color. There’s no more I’m-right-you’re-wrong. There’s only this-isn’t-working. But back to season 1.

I hate to say this, but this shot here is giving me hella “It’s twins and one’s a boy and one’s a girl!” vibes. Which is kind of irrelevant. What actually matters is that El is wearing Nancy’s clothes. She’s wearing a wig and yet another article of Wheeler clothing, presenting herself as a different Wheeler. She even had short hair when dressed in Mike’s clothes and long hair here dressed in Nancy’s. It’s kind of like she’s trying out the Wheeler life from both angles.

Guys, I don’t know HOW I never realized how much pink and baby blue the Wheelers are surrounded by. LOOK AT THIS WALLPAPER!!! Plus, with El in pink and Mike in blue and the greenery in front of the mirror, they basically ARE the wallpaper. It’s pink, blue, and green leaves. What is the reason. It basically tells us that this (Mike and this version of El) together equals Wheeler conformity. And by “this version of El” I mean her dressing like someone else and trying to behave like someone else. This version of El is still trying to find herself, trying to fit in (a theme that returns later). Basically Mike + dishonest El or confused El = unhappy couple pretending to be in love (Ted + Karen). Eleven is spending this season trying on other people’s clothes and other people’s lives because she never got to have one. And this image is a big red flag right here because I can’t imagine anyone looking at this shot and thinking “awe cute.” It’s so newborn baby-colored and domestic it makes me gag. This screams that El needs to find herself in order to avoid THIS. This nuclear nightmare.

This also feels weirdy similar to what we just witnessed of Steve and Nancy, what with the baby pink and blue solid colored costuming. Almost like a MIRROR IMAGE WOULDN’T YOU SAY? No, I’m stretching. I’m actually reaching blindly. I have no idea where I’m going with that. But the mirror shot is interesting. If anything, I’d say it ties back to them being a mirror of Mike’s parents BUT I can’t help but think there’s subtext here for both couples about gender roles what with these colors being, as I mentioned, the ones assigned to babies at birth. El will later go on to find that she’s the fighter. Steve will go on to be the babysitter. Defying gender role expectations. Both of these characters are trying to figure out who they are and who they want to be this season while both Mike and Nancy are trying to find their lost friends.

Basically, I’m getting identity crises and Don't Become Your Parents.

And to finish off with the Byers...Joyce is still wearing the same outfit she’s been in since episode 1. Clearly collapsing. And Jonathan Show's-Over Byers is wearing this cozy lil sweater fit to the morgue, which I find especially interesting in this scene here:

Jonathan, in his lil beige sweater, is matching Hopper's uniform. And this is the first time these two characters really connect. Prior to this, Hopper has shot Jonathan down and told him to let Hop do his job. Here, they're talking openly and calmly, and they're talking about Joyce. They are speaking on even footing about someone they both care about (though at this point in time, we aren't sure the extent of Hopper's feelings for or history with Joyce) and they are matching. This feels especially intentional when you watch moments before, when Jonathan was looking at "Will's" body and see that he was wearing a jacket and then the scene after when they're leaving (above) and he's wearing the jacket again. He didn't take it off to come inside, but specifically for this sit-down moment with Hopper.

[aemiron-main]

ST Costuming Posts

Will’s Unbuttoned Flannel (x)

Initial Post About The BTS Picture Of Young Henry’s Sensory Tank Suit Costume (x)

Will Wearing The Same Shirt In The Science Fair Photo From S1 vs At The Arcade in S2 (x)

Jonathan Being Dressed Like Lonnie When Ranting About The Cycle Of Abuse (x)

Owens’ S4 NINA Outfit Is The Inverse of Will’s S2 Outfit (x)

He Likes It Cold vs The Snowflakes On The Hawkins Lab Gowns (x)

Mike’s Hair and Costume Being Inspired By Pete Townshend From The Who (x)

El’s NINA Flannel Being Similar To Will’s S2 Flannel (x)

Chrissy and Karen and Virginia Parallels and Chrissy’s Hair Originally Being Styled Just Like Karen’s (x)

Jason and 001 Costuming and Shot Parallels (x)

Karen and Virginia Costuming Parallels: Theyre The Same Person, Different Timelines (x)

Karen’s Blue S1 Coat Dress vs Virginia’s Blue Moving-In Dress (x)

Yet Another Karen-Virginia Parallel: Wheeler Kitchen Curtains vs Virginia’s Shirt and Virginia and Karen’s Hair (x)

Connie’s Hair vs 001’s Hair (x)

What The Hell Is On Connie’s Brooch? (x)

Victor Creel and “Why Women Kill” Costuming Parallels (x)

Henry’s Slicked Down Hair and Control (x)

Why Did Young Henry Need A Stunt Double In His Dinner Clothes? (x)

Henry’s Invisible Belt (x)

Young Henry’s Wardrobe/Converse (x)

Young Henry’s Wardrobe/Converse and Formal Shoes vs Casual Shoes (x)

Virginia’s Dinner Shirt vs Henry’s Rabbit Scene Shirt (x)

Pearl Buttons:An Analysis Of Barb Possibly Having Powers (x)

Will and Henry’s Shirts Being Inverted Versions Of Eachother (x)

Mike’s Quarry Shirt Is The Same As His Hospital Scene Shirt (x)

Mike’s Shoes During The Crazy Together Scene Are The Same As His Shoes During The Quarry Scene (x)

Mike With His Backpack Half On (x)

Ted and Mike Sweater Parallels (x)

Mike’s S4 Underwear Scene vs Ripley’s Underwear Scene In Alien (x)

Mike Costuming Parallels When El Gets Taken By The Police Van vs At The Quarry (x)

Mike Is The Only One Without A Covering On His Hellfire Shirt In The Cafeteria Scene (x)

Ted Wheeler and Philip Cunningham Costuming Parallels (x)

S2 Mike and S4 Ted Costuming Parallels (x)

Ted’s Glasses, Fred’s Glasses, and Barb’s Glasses (x)

Scott’s Plaid Funeral Scarf Has the Same Colours as Henry’s Plaid Moving-In Shirt (x)

Even If You Don’t See A Detail, It’s There: When Will We Finally Beat The Production Error Allegations? Not Everything Is A Production Error, The Details Matter. (x)

The Yellow And Black Plaid Shirt And Yet Another “Blonde Haired Kid And Black Haired Kid” Pairing (x)

Scott Clarke Is Everywhere (Featuring The Beige Coat) (x)

Why Are NINA Suit and Sensory Tank Suits Different? (x)

Kevin L Johnson’s Sideburns (x)

[messrsbyler]

@mlchaelwheeler your brain popped off and you can't keep this in the tags only

#the camera was frOM STEVE THE CAMERA WAS FROM STEVE THE CAMERA WAS FROM STEVE THE CAM-#also they hang out in the darkroom while jonathan develops his photos and they listen to his mixtapes and steve sings along like he did in#the wheeler's garage in s1 and steve wears jonathan's yellow sweater to school once and jonathan was the one who gave steve the bat#and he kept it in his trunk for protection from monsters (but really to remind him of jonathan and That Night) and steve actually IS sneaky#like a ninja when sneaking into jonathan's room but joyce knows but doesn't say anything#will is a little shit ofc and calls them out constantly but it's ok bc jonathan does the same to him about mike so they're even#ALSO jonathan will randomly show up at family video and steve will always have his movie ready at the counter EVERY SINGLE TIME#jonathan doesn't know how he does it but he does and it's so funny#robin is facepalming at every possible moment bc of how idiotic the both of them are but they're also so adorable and soulmates#anyways this got out of hand but i love them#stonathan

i think there's something to be said about stonathan... go ahead now it's your turn. say something about stonathan

...

or else

[homeybadger]

Stranger Things Headcanons: Teens

Robin Buckley

- Doesn’t like cooked carrots

- Flicks Dustin randomly

- Scared of bees

- Wanted to grow her hair out longer, but when it is it gets chronically tangled

- A fan of horror movies, has movie nights with Max (she gets super excited for them)

- Repeatedly said the word “libido” because it “sounded cool”, before she found out what it meant

- Loves mashed potatoes

Eddie Munson

- Enjoys receiving flowers

- Has a pair of reading glasses for when he paints miniatures

- If he doesn’t like a food, he just tells people he’s allergic to it

- Has a stuffed animal hidden in his closet that he cuddles with while he sleeps (his mom gave it to him)

- Spontaneously “trust falls” people

- Paints his nails on occasion

- Has gotten his tongue stuck to a pole in winter

- Carries a complete set of DND dice in his pocket at all times

Nancy Wheeler

- Really likes cinnamon, the smell and the flavor

- Has a bunch of journals. Some are halfway filled with random writings, while others are completely empty (they look too cool)

- Is actually curious about DND, but doesn’t consider it because it’s Mike’s thing

- Can fall asleep after downing a pot of coffee

- Gave Mike her serving of peas whenever she could when they were younger

- Despises itchy sweaters

Steve Harrington

- Knows the lyrics to the Never Ending Story, but ensures Dustin has no idea. He finds himself humming it when the video store is slow

- Won’t watch horror movies if he’s alone

- Actually has considered becoming a legitimate babysitter at one point

- Allergic to shellfish

- Has offhandedly called Dustin his son while speaking about him.

- He’s called all of the kids his children at some point, but Dustin was the first

- Gets horrifically sunburned constantly

- Saves every birthday card ever given to him

Jonathan Byers

- He also stuck a Lego up his nose when he was little, and Joyce had to get it out

- Has a photo album full of bird pictures

- Has accidentally taken a sip of Will’s paint water

- Burns food at least a little when he cooks, but anything he bakes turns out perfectly

- Listens to Queen

- Considered getting a tattoo, but ultimately decided against it

Argyle

- Has totally eaten pineapple pieces dipped in pizza sauce before

- Is trying to create a “weed pizza”

- Good with dogs

- Allergic to cats

- Prefers to wear socks that aren’t matching

- Owns at least 10 hats, all different designs/colors

- Afriad of the super deep parts of the ocean

[curiositydooropened]

Merry Christmas, Max

Max gets a ride home from Steve on Christmas Eve 1985.

Pairing: Max crushing on Steve, a bit of implied Steve x Nancy

Wordcount: 3630

Warnings: just sad, panicky Max stuff

No Tag List, please follow my library!

A/N: I wrote most of this like two years ago and have been trying to finish it and get it posted. So rereading it post-s4 made me really happy with a lot of the character decisions I made. Hope you enjoy as much as I did! Happy Christmas in July!

Masterlist • Library • Ao3

Christmas at the Wheeler’s, like most things at the Wheeler’s, looked like Max had stepped onto the set of one of those old fashioned, sappy holiday musicals her mom sobbed to every year. Everything was lit up, technicolor, glossed over with a rosy glow. The fireplace was lit and stoked. Five perfect, store-bought stockings hung among the boughs of holly, just under an array of Sears-booth photographs. A large tree was adorned to the tip top with tinsel and real glass ornaments. All the presents beneath glistened under gold lamé bows. 

Max almost didn’t want to unwrap hers. She wanted to pull the Scotch tape as carefully as she could to keep the paper prestine. Her own presents, comic books she’d paid for with scrounged arcade change, were haphazardly taped brown parcels, carefully tied with string. Their Christmas budget was low, Mom said, because of funeral costs. They were still recovering.

Mike had gotten her a really nice sweater, which was thoughtful, too thoughtful. And Lucas got pissed until Mike explained that El had picked it out, and she’d be wearing a matching one in California. Lucas got Max a framed photo of himself, the idiot. 

After presents, they enjoyed some punch and took turns on the Atari until the front door opened with a gust of cool air, and two more guests tumbled in, stomping the snow from their boots onto the entry rug. 

“Mike!?” Nancy called through the house, but she needn’t look far to see the motley crew huddled in their Christmas sweaters in front of the television. Dustin and Mike were jamming their joysticks. Lucas sat on the couch beside Max, making her too warm and itchy with his arm wrapped over her shoulder. 

“What!?” Mike yelled back, not seeing his sister’s entrance. 

“I’m home.” Nancy was breathless, from the cold or something else, Max wasn’t sure, but the older girl’s cheeks and nose were pinched pink, and she had the start of icicles in her hair. She was out there a while. “Hi, Max,” she smiled, holding up a small hand to wave.

Max nodded a hello.

“You guys get enough to eat? Where’s Holly?” She looked around the small room for her littlest sister. 

The familiar sound of a knock out called from the television, and Dustin tossed his joystick in a fit of slander and rage. Mike raised two fists in the air, triumphant, before focusing in on the annoyed teen in the room. “Shit, what?” He blinked.

“Seriously, Mike!?” Nancy huffed in retreat. They heard her footsteps hurdle up the staircase. “Holly!?!” 

Max felt a twinge of panic, wondered if the rest of them prickled at the idea of a missing child. Maybe it affected them worse than her, she never knew. She hadn’t recalled seeing Holly all evening. Somewhere between the cookies and punch, maybe? When the kitchen bustled with bodies and Mrs. Wheeler smacked lips to Mike’s obstinant cheek as she and Mr. Wheeler swept off to their evening’s party. 

Reluctantly, Mike stretched his long limbs from his cross-legged position on the floor and followed his older sister to investigate upstairs. Lucas, seeing an opening, found his spot beside Dustin on the living room floor. 

Suddenly feeling antsy and alone, Max relieved herself and headed toward the kitchen, mumbling something about punch. Really, she wanted a better vantage of the staircase and the front door, in case something were to go awry. In the kitchen, she knew she could arm herself. She passed the entry way, a stacked flurry of puffer jackets, and her socks dampened beneath the run-off of wet snow boots. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but continued to pad her path, peeking up the staircase for any indication of the little girl’s safety.

Max’d craned her neck so far to see up the stairs that by the time she wheeled her focus to the kitchen, she’d nearly run smack into the side of Steve Harrington, who now stood draped against the Wheeler’s island, mouth full and second Christmas cookie in hand. “Whey, Mah-,” he greeted, crumbs coating a bright blue puffer vest. He waved.

Max clutched at her chest and shook her head, moving to fill a plastic cup with punch. “Hi, Steve. What’re you doing here?” She half-paid attention to her actions, taking the new vantage point to look toward the blue staircase. 

“I’m here to take Dustin home.” Steve gestured in Dustin’s vague direction with the cookie in his hand. “Is your mom coming?”

Where were the Wheelers? The hallway upstairs remained dimly lit. It seemed like Mrs. Wheeler had changed the wallpaper again, something more with-the-times. At least the lighting remained stable, no blinking, no changes. The air in the kitchen felt warm, too hot, except Max’s hand. Why would her hand be cold?

Her eyes flicked focus to her freezing hand to watch bright red punch spill over the full cup and back into the punch bowl. “Shit!” She dropped the ladle and carefully dumped punch out of her cup, standing on tiptoe to avoid spillage onto her hand-knit Christmas sweater. 

“Pour much?” Steve snorted. 

“Shove it, asshole,” Max sneered, setting her cup down to find one of Mrs. Wheeler’s hand towels to dry the liquid.

Steve had found it already, in anticipation for the spill, and he handed it over with a grin, using his dry, but freezing, fingers to roll up Max’s sleeve. His hands were bright red, and cold, as though he’d been outside for hours. With warmth filling her cheeks, Max mumbled a thanks and avoided glancing back up at him while she dried off. Her fingers remained sticky at the joints.

“God, Mike, you’re such a freak,” Nancy hissed at the top of the stairs. Her not-so-little brother slunk behind her, all limbs and shrugged shoulders.

“Shut up,” a small smirk met his thin lips, but he halted at the landing, bushy eyebrows furrowed into the signature Mike Wheeler grimace. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Steve rolled his eyes and reached for a third sugar cookie. He leaned once more against the counters to behead Santa before saying, “shut up, dickhead.”

Mike just rolled his eyes and followed Nancy to the kitchen to grab a handful of salted nuts.

“Was Holly okay?” Max asked softly, slipping her upper lip over the rim of her cup to slurp the excess punch from the top. It was sweet, but the fizz had flattened from hours laying stagnant in a warm house. 

“Oh yeah, she’d crashed while playing Barbies.” Nancy smiled softly, cornering a star between dainty eye teeth. “God, those were the days, weren’t they?”

Max hummed a smile, chest loosening in relief. She’d never had Barbies growing up, well, one or two, because Mom wanted her to, but she was always more into skinning her knees and jamming buttons at the arcade. 

A cry of victory shook the house from the family room, and Mike quickly hurried off to congratulate the winner, or take his turn, and Max took a deep breath before deciding if she wanted to follow. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was getting late, and if she wanted to make it home by curfew, she should probably get going soon. At least, if Neil was sober and awake, which was more and more unlikely nowadays. 

“Steve,” Nancy gasped, covering a chuckle with the back of her hand. “You’ve got… tree…” She laughed and reached to pull an assortment of twigs from Steve Harrington’s famous brown locks. His dark eyes screwed upward to watch the action, and upon noticing the culprit, he quickly checked his hair with his hands. His immediate panic sent Nancy into a fit of giggles.

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes, but Max noticed the fondest of smiles breech the corners of his pink lips. He watched Nancy laugh before lifting a hand to her curls. “Shit, you do too.” He snorted and pulled some juniper from her hair as well.

The room felt very tight, like all of the air had been sucked from it. The last laugh fell from Nancy’s lips, and Max held her breath simultaneously, too embarrassed to make a noise. She watched Steve’s hand pick at twigs and berries, and the items pebbled on the linoleum at their socked feet.

His hands were big, overtaking Nancy’s petit face and frame, as they ghosted her cheek and neck and arm, and finally fell to his sides. Max could feel herself trembling, curiosity fluttering somewhere in her stomach, wondering if Steve’s hand would feel the same as Lucas’s in hers, or if it was tougher, more experienced. She wondered how she’d feel tucked under one of his arms on the couch, the way she had been with Lucas. She wondered if she’d feel stuffy and hot, or comfortable, safe. 

“Max,” Steve’s voice snapped her out of it, and she felt her face flood with heat. She darted her eyes around the room, trying to look anywhere but him until she realized he’d address her.

“Huh?” She cleared her throat. “What?”

“Is your mom coming to get you?”

It took her a few moments to realize what he was asking, while her brain switched gears. She shook her head, taking another sip of punch. “Mmm, no. She’s at the party too. I’m going to skate home.”

“Uh, no you’re not.” Steve shook his head.

“What?”

“It’s a friggin’ blizzard outside, shit brains. I’ll give you a ride home.”

“I’ll be fine, asshole,” Max rolled her eyes, but her confidence waned as she glanced toward the blackness of the kitchen window. The corners of it were illuminated with a fresh dusting of snow. She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Whatever. When’s your curfew?” Steve asked.

Max stared back at the clock on the wall. “Half hour?”

Steve ran a hand through his mane. “Shit. Fine. Go grab Dustin, let’s go.” 

With a huff of obstinance, Max tipped the rest of her punch into the sink and tossed her cup into the quickly-filling garbage can. She tried not to notice Nancy hadn’t moved from her close proximity to Steve. She tried not to notice the looks the older two were giving each other as she left the room. She tried not to notice the pang of jealousy she felt as she moved out of eye sight. 

She thought of turning back, of peeking through the slats in the banister and catching a secret moment, but she thought better of it and made a mental note to tell El tomorrow. She gathered her bag of presents and peeled Dustin’s gaze from the television long enough to help him do the same. Her mind lingered on the teens in the kitchen, wondering if love got easier or harder the older she got.

Lucas kept his untrained eyes on the television, jamming buttons while his girlfriend and best friend made for the entry way to begrudgingly pull damp snowshoes on over wool socks. Max perched herself on the bottom step and yawned through the first boot. She glanced sideways to see the older teens entering from the kitchen. Steve pulled his jacket from the ground, wet spots still fresh and dark green against the emerald. 

“You shit heads ready?” He grinned, too wide, too happy. So happy he winked at Max, who shot him furrowed eyebrows as a blushed response. 

“What’s your deal?” Dustin scoffed, never one to let an uncharacteristically enthused expression go unnoticed. 

“Nothing, shut up. Put your coat on.” Steve sighed, slamming down the front bill of Dustin’s cap. 

Dustin huffed a response and struggled for his jacket. 

Steve reached to the ground to find Max’s. The puff split down one side and was haphazardly duct taped together like her skateboard, and the entire thing looked ridiculous against the pristine image of Steve Harrington. He held it out for her to slip her arms into, and she did so, one after the other, her back up against his tall, strong front, their jackets puffed between them. 

His fingers, now warm, brushed her neck upon her coat’s release, and she shuddered at the touch, immediately stepping out of his range. She grappled for her bag, and the skateboard propped against the wall and grumbled for them all to leave already. 

“Bye, Mike! Thanks for Christmas! Bye, Nancy!” Dustin screeched throughout the house. 

Nancy swatted at him, not unkindly. “Shhh, Holly’s sleeping.” 

“Sorry,” Dustin grinned. “Merry Christmas, Nancy.” 

“Merry Christmas, Dustin. Merry Christmas, Max.” 

Max smiled and nodded. She lingered behind Dustin for a moment, waiting to hear the scramble of feet from the family room, but found no such luck. She sighed. Maybe being single for the holidays was just the icing on the cake from the shit year she’d had since July. Weird emotions struck her, tickled at her throat, and she shouldered past Dustin and into the cold. 

Steve was right. A thick layer of white brightened the air, frosted her cheeks, tickled at her nose hairs. She blinked into the blanket, trying to decide the best coarse of action to keep her jeans dry. The lights from the garage glowed warm against the icy driveway. Already, Steve’s car was cast in a thin layer, windshield wiping in vain. The engine rolled from the cold. 

His headlights exposed an odd patch of snow behind of the bushes at the front of the yard, packed like something had laid and almost attempted snow angels, though perhaps something had barreled through to destroy them. Amid the snow were twigs and berries.

Dustin forged ahead in a flurry of polyester, eager to get out of the snow and into the warmth of Steve’s car. With a groan, Max followed in his wake, hiking her skateboard up her hip to keep it dry. Dustin shouted shot gun, and the two of them collapsed into respective seats, breathless from the cold, stamping their boots onto the sideboard. Before Max closed her door, she noticed Nancy and Steve lingering in the doorway to the Wheeler’s home. Nancy’s fingers were wrapped around the lapel of his jacket. She fell back on flat feet from her tiptoes. 

Max slammed the car door and fresh snow fell to the driveway outside. The window cleared, and they watched Steve sprint back to his car, entering the fray in gasps and laughter. 

“What was that about?” Dustin asked.

“What?” Steve sighed. He swung an arm back to Max in the backseat to retrieve the scraper from beside her. “Be right back.” 

“Don’t think you can avoid the subject, Steve!” Dustin yelled, but the car door was slammed in his face. He grumbled and turned back to Max. The smile on his impish features was too solemn, something Max had grown used to from all of the boys lately. “Sorry about Lucas.” 

Max sighed, crossed her arms over her chest. “Who?”

Dustin cackled. “Ooh, that’s ice cold.”

The snow swept from the windshield with ease, dribbling down the hood, warm from the engine-block, and Steve made to scrape the side mirrors and back window next. He flashed Max a grin and a wink, and she felt her face heat from the warmth of the car and her oversized parka. She rolled her eyes and waited for his return so they could go already.

Safely buckled, they inched slowly out of the Wheelers’ driveway, Steve watching behind him with one hand over Dustin’s headrest. Once safely in the street, they took off at an amble toward the Hendersons’ bungalow. 

The dimly lit homes glowed with holiday cheer. Christmas trees were lit behind frosted glass, and Steve hunkered to his steering wheel to peer through the snow that rushed at them like the Millennium Falcon in hyper speed. Dustin knew better than to distract him with too much chatter, and Max was grateful for the silence to process the thoughts of the evening bumbling through her head. 

When they reached the driveway, Dustin wished her a Merry Christmas, and he warned Steve they’d have to talk about the shit with Nancy, and Steve flipped him off before the younger boy slammed the door and made his way up the steps to his home. 

And then there were two. Steve turned to face her, again with his arm over the passenger’s headrest, and he nodded that mess of hair toward the seat beside him. “Wanna move up? So I don’t feel like a chauffeur.” 

Max sighed, and crawled herself, dripping shoes first, over Steve’s center console and into the cushy passenger’s seat of his BMW. 

“I meant get out, but sure…” Steve gave her a toothy grin, far more cheerful than he would have been if Mike or Lucas had trudged snow boots over the leather. Max wondered if it was her, or the night he’d seemed to be having before she caught he and Nancy in the kitchen.

The heater was warmer from here, a blast of hot air into an already warmed face, and she turned to buckle her seatbelt, catching her own reflection in the window as they backed out of the driveway. With her ruddy hair frizzing out beneath her hat, she was sure Nancy was the only one making Steve smile this holiday season. She sunk deeper into her jacket, and watched the delicate pass of each windshield wiper as they headed toward their homes.

“So, do you guys have any fun Christmas traditions?” Steve asked about a block from Dustin’s. 

Max shrugged, thought about their traditions, and her heart sank a bit into that familiar pit she’d been getting used to over the last half a year. “We used to um… I used to decorate the tree with…”

“Oh shit, Max, Jesus,” Steve ran a hand over his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” she shrugged, biting back the emotions building at the back of her throat. She learned to quit crying a few months ago, learned it didn’t help, didn’t bring her brother back. “Do you have any fun Christmas traditions?”

“My parents usually go on this long ski trip. This year it’s like the Alps or some shit. Robin’s trying to talk me into having dinner with her family, but they like play charades. They’re all hyper. Every god damn one of them.” He was hunched over the steering wheel for better visuals, but he managed to gesticulate the way Max noticed he did, a frantic wave of those large, strong hands. 

“Sounds like a nightmare.” She snorted.

“I know!” He smiled at her then, just before his face fell. It was the same pity that filled her chest with panic, rolled her stomach, stung in her eyes. “Hey,” he started in. “You know I’m like… I just mean, like… I know you think I’m an asshole…” He ran a hand through his messy hair. A juniper berry rolled out and into her lap. 

“Steve,” Max groaned. She squeezed the berry between two fingers, and it popped a juicy lime green mess. 

“I’m just saying!” He held up his hands in defense. “I’m actually really cool, and if you need to talk, I’m a pretty good confidant. Just ask Robin.” His voice tapered off then, like he’d given away too much information. 

An awkward silence fell between them when Max didn’t respond, too embarrassed. The fans whirred, pumping heat into the cab, and the snow crunched between the tires, and faint Christmas carols could be heard on the radio, volume too low to make out specifics. 

When they reached Max’s house, she mumbled a thanks and clumsily grasped for the door handle. The snow outside a relief to her warm cheeks. She was about to slam the door, to escape up the yard to the front steps, when Steve called her name from inside the car. She turned on her heel to see his face split into a friendly smile. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

She raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Thanks for the ride.” And then she closed the door and trudged through the snow to the house. 

—

Christmas Morning was all waffles and comic books, tucked under an oversized sweater and her rainbow print sheets. Neil hadn’t seen the light of day in months, and Mom had an emergency shift, and none of them really wanted to talk about the missing piece to their family puzzle.

It was nearly noon before Max left her room again. The doorbell sounded from the front room, and a chill spread through her. She could almost hear the phantom call of her brother commanding her to get the door. Slipping out from her covers, she tiptoed down the hall, past a snoring Neil, and swung open the front door. 

Her bare legs prickled from the rush of cold, and she hugged her arms to herself, frowning at a visitor-free stoop. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she stepped out onto the frigid concrete landing with bare feet to see who had ding-dong ditched. 

Rushing down the path to a maroon BMW was Robin, dressed from bottom to top as a tinsel-covered Christmas tree. Before she opened the passenger’s side door, she turned to wave at Max and yell, “Merry Christmas!”

Max waved, confused, and watched as the two teens sped away, tires slipping on the icy lane. When they’d pulled around the corner, and her toes threatened to fall off, she noticed a gift leaning against the house, just underneath the doorbell. 

A bright red, satin ribbon had been tied around a brand new skateboard. The wheels were bright blue, and the underside was a technicolor of swirls that matched her bedspread. No duct tape, no splintered wood, no explanation for the swoop in her stomach and the smile spreading across her face. 

[viewmasterfeeling]

oh! i almost forgot, if you have time, maybe you could write something with jonathan and el having bonding time? maybe he teaches her how to do photography? side elmax, if you don't mind. love you!! congratulations again!!- 🌹anon

I love you!!! And here you go! This was fun to write :3

Here on ao3!

Pho-tog-ra-phy

Ever since El had moved in with the Byers, she’d been mesmerized by something Jonathan did.

The “something” involved using a black box to put real things on paper. She didn’t know how, but it wasn’t magic-- El knew that Magic didn’t exist. Magic was just for games, like the “Dungeons and Dragons” Will would rant on and on about. It was interesting, but El didn’t really understand the point of just pretending to go on adventures. The Party had already experienced enough real adventures that were much cooler, so what was the point of a game?

One day, El was sitting in the living room as Jonathan took pictures of different walls in their new house. Her eyes were glued to the device (a camera?), and she tried to capture the process in her mind. Point the box to the thing, hold it steady, put your face next the box, press a button. And then, just like magic, the paper would slide out.

Jonathan must have noticed El watching, because he turned away from his work and came over to El. “You like my camera?” Camera. She nodded, eyes fixated on it.

“Stay still,” Jonathan said. El stopped moving, and Jonathan put his eye to the camera and clicked a button. Flash . A shiny little picture of El slid out of the device.

El grabbed it immediately. It was her. Exactly the position she’d been sitting in just a moment ago. It was like she was looking through someone else’s eyes and seeing the exact room she was in right now. It was mesmerizing.

“I want to learn,” El said, sure she’d never been more sure about something in her life.

Jonathan smiled. “Really? Awesome! I always try to teach Will, but he’s never really been interested.”

Right. Will seemed to like the other way of making pictures: drawing.

El and her older brother left to pick some flowers outside. Once El was satisfied with her picks, they came inside and put the flowers in a glass vase. Now it was time for the fun part.

Jonathan handed El the camera and moved her hands so that they were in the right place. Satisfied, Jonathan stepped away and began to explain.

“So, you’re gonna look through that little hole, and when you like the picture you see, press this button on top.”

El nodded. She looked into the hole and saw, surprisingly, the same flowers she picked. She changed her position, trying to get the vase perfectly in the center, and when she was satisfied, pressed the button. Click .

The machine seemed to whir in her hands, and El flinched in surprise. Out slid the picture. El grabbed it.

Woah . It was… pretty. The red, yellow, and white flowers fell perfectly in the light, making them look vibrant and beautiful.

Once she was able to pull her eyes away, El handed it to Jonathan. “Nice job!” Jonathan said, looking at it. El felt proud. I took that picture .

They went around the house, taking pictures of any objects that could be interesting. A lamp, a painting on the wall, Joyce’s shoes, a bar of soap that was a pretty shade of pink, and eventually, they were back at the table, looking through all of the photos.

“El, these are really good! You could be a photographer some day,” Jonathan said, looking proudly at the photos.

“Pho-to-gra-pher?”

“Yeah. It’s a person who does photography, which is taking pictures.”

“Pho-tog-ra-phy.” El tried out the word. It had a satisfying sound to it.

“But I’ll have to get you your own camera and film. We burned through mine real fast.” he chuckled.

“Film?”

Jonathan explained the concept of film, which wasn’t a movie, but it was something you put in cameras to take more pictures.

El felt excited, happy, and eager to learn more. She felt like she’d finally found her thing. (Mike’s was writing, Max’s was skateboarding, Will’s was drawing…) and now, El’s was photography.

She couldn’t wait to do it more.

-----

Christmas, 1985. All of the “kids” were in the Wheeler basement, and El was opening a present.

To: El, From: Jonathan

She ripped off the blue wrapping paper to reveal a shiny, white box, with a picture of a camera on it.

“I figured you’d like one of your own,” Jonathan commented.

A camera! El’s mouth opened in surprise and gratefulness. She smiled, admiring the box.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, feeling shy and thankful and excited .

Later, after some help from Jonathan to set it up, El was taking pictures of all of her friends, whether they agreed to it or not.

When she got to Max, the redhead turned away shyly. “You don’t want a picture of me,” she said, covering her chest with her arms.

“Yes, I do.” El was sure of this. She didn’t know why she was so sure, but she wanted to see Max every day, even if it was just on a piece of paper.

Max raised her eyebrows. “Okay, but can we take it, like, later? I look really bad right now.”

Wrong. Max’s face looked beautiful as it always did. Her hair framed her face like a golden picture frame, and the sweater she was wearing was perfect. “You look pretty.” So pretty that El may have finally found something she was more obsessed with than photography.

Max smiled. “Really?”

El nodded, smiling back. “Really pretty.”

Max looked at El for a moment. “If you say so.” Then, she looked at the floor. “You are too. Pretty, I mean.”

El blushed. “Oh. I mean… I am?”

Max chuckled, eyes crinkled in a smile. “Of course, silly! Now, let’s get away from these boys. We can take my picture outside.”

Max grabbed El’s hand and dragged her upstairs and to the front yard, both of them giggling. When they found a place, Max posed for a picture, then another, then another. Then, Max insisted that she take a picture of El.

“Okay, you got a picture of me. Now I want a picture of you .”

Fair. “I’ll teach you,” El said, putting the camera in Max’s hands and putting her own hands over Max’s. She taught Max how to take a picture, and after some struggling and a lot of laughing, Max got it. And they continued to take pictures of each other and pose until El’s side hurt from laughing.

Photography. El loved it.

[dearyams]

wanted to send you a prompt i was gonna do but i am too lazy prompt: mike and will have been dating but havent said i love you, mike is going on some trip for a week where cell phones dont work (obv future fic) and so Byeler is having a phone convo before mike arrives at his destination and they wont be able to talk to each other a week and will says tells mike he loves him but before mike can respond the phone disconnects as Mike arrives at the destinationn

[ crossposted on AO3 ]

“Finished packing yet?”

Mike turns from his suitcase and the clothes piles spread about the floor in his room and grins when he spots Will leaning on the doorframe a few feet away. He’s got two iced coffee cups in hand, indicative of finishing his part-time hours at the local coffee shop a few blocks north from the Byers residence. Mike wonders if Will biked his way over or took a lift with his brother to come visit before the Wheelers make their way on an impromptu trip to upstate New York at a cabin his dad had recently inherited.

The kneeling boy waves his hands at the disorderly state surrounding him and shrugs. “I’m trying and failing at packing the right clothes for this venture, I’ll say that.”

Will chuckles and walks fully into the room. He passes along Mike’s coffee, shoving around haphazardly folded pants to find a seat on the floor beside the other boy. Mike watches him grab a sweater and toss it aside. “It’s summer so you don’t need to pack heavy. Just grab some t-shirts and jeans; that should do. Shorts too if you’d like.”

“Sure,” sighs Mike before sipping from his cup. “I don’t want to make the visit miserable if I’m wearing the wrong clothes. Wrong for the weather and wrong for looking tolerable in the photos I know Mom is gonna force on me.”

Will laughs, a gentle breeze in the summer’s heat. “You’ll look good in whatever you put on.”

“As my boyfriend, you’re kind of obligated to say that.”

“Not really.” the brunette leans in to kiss Mike’s cheek. “I’ll let you know when you look bad if only for the sake of my own eyes.”

“And when you won’t be next to me, how will you judge my outfits properly?”

Will checks his watch and hums. “When’s your departure? If you have time, you can try out some of the outfits and I’ll let you know what works.”

Mike grins as he reaches over Will’s lap and snags a band t-shirt. “Sneaky aren’t you; tryna get me undressed.”

“I’ll cover my eyes.” Will places his unoccupied hand over his eyes but spreads his fingers between his middle and ring fingers to peek through the opening. Mike scoffs, tossing a stray pair of shorts at his face which makes the brunette laugh heartily. Mike already misses Will, the knowledge that they’ll be separated for a week squeezing his heart dry with romantic despair. He wishes Will could come with but the trip was pretty unplanned and though Mike's “job” as a blog writer and editor doesn’t require a remote location, Will’s job doesn’t allow the same ease when taking off work.

(Though Mike thinks he’ll probably still be working offline on an article if his mom doesn’t steal his laptop for “family bonding in the forest” time.)

Mike’s sudden fashion show lasts for about an hour and while Will does offer good input, most of that hour is spent playing around and Mike sneaking in as many kisses as they can get away with whenever Mike peels off a shirt and struggles to get his head through the tight collar of another. Afterwards, Will helps finish packing and when completed, they lounge about on Mike’s bed as Will discusses the customers he met earlier in the day.

Though he knows packing just mere hours before departure isn’t a habit he should develop, especially when the plans for his career require frequent traveling, he spent the night before editing a movie review scheduled for posting during the drive. Mike doesn’t regret his momentary time mismanagement if it means he spends more time with Will before the trip. The article can wait—he’s posting it early anyway—but time spent with his boyfriend is always coveted.

When Mike’s mom knocks on the door, Will pulls away from Mike’s chest where he rested his head as they page through Mike’s hard copy of The Golden Compass which he wanted to review in line with the show’s release. Shaking his head and straightening his hair as best as possible, Mike struts to his door and opens it with raised eyebrows. His mom looks up from checking her phone and offers Mike a tight smile before looking past him to wave at Will.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you two,” she starts warmly, “but Mike, we have to get going soon. The traffic through the city is getting dense thanks to an accident on the 70.”

“Got it,” replies Mike as he turns back to Will, who walks to his side with both their empty cups in hand. “I’ll see you in a few days, Byers.”

“‘Course.” Will grins and leans up to press a gentle kiss to Mike’s cheek. “Call me when you’re getting close to your destination.”

“Sure, worrywart,” he teases but turns his face to kiss Will’s lips one last time before he has to depart. He watches Will nod bashfully at his mom and give her a short goodbye before making his way downstairs. Mike doesn’t look away until he hears the front door closing and then he casts his gaze on his mom. “Are Dad, Nancy, and Holly waiting outside?”

“Yes,” she nods toward the front of the house. “We’ll all just waiting on you now.”

It doesn’t take long for Mike to join his family at the car, and as his dad pulls out the driveway, Mike turns in the direction of the Byers and smiles when he sees Will on his bike a little ways down the road watching. He sticks his hand out the window, his wave only growing more frantic when Will waves back. Holly giggles and Nancy makes a side comment about love sick teenagers as if she wasn’t one herself during her escapades with Steve, Jonathan, and now Robin. The first hour and a half fills with Holly saying “moo” every time they pass a cow on the way to the interstate and Mike feels like smashing his head against his window when they pass a farm and Holly moos until she nearly passes out. Pulling out his phone, Mike shoots Will a selfie of himself despondently looking out the window and groans when his cell service takes its sweet time sending the message along. Mike gets a reply a reply twenty minutes later: Will laughing at his misery with a short additional, “you’ll be there before you know it,” and a bunch of kiss emojis.

The next hour passes with Mike flipping through his ever growing Will gallery, a digital photo album filled with selfies and candid shots of Will, both solo and with Mike. He’s not one for being in photos himself but Will manages to drag him into a few selfies here and there. He doesn’t mind snapping a selfie either by himself or together—cheeks squished as they both attempt to fit in the frame as Mike holds the phone up and out—because Will always asks him to send the photo along and then makes it his lock screen until the next time he convinces Mike it’s photo time.

After settling on a candid shot Mike snapped when he and Will visited Lovers’ Lake and the sun framed Will like a bright halo of fire, Mike settles on playing a mobile game for about another two hours before staring out the window until the trees blend together and his eyes find themselves sliding shut. He wakes up a few times here and there when the family stops at gas stations and picks up snacks—he definitely remembers his mom arguing with his dad about stopping at a hotel which they ultimately don’t do—but he wakes up for the final time to his phone buzzing in his lap, startling him out of a dream he quickly forgets upon waking. Caller ID tags the number as Will and he immediately answers as he scrambles for his headphones in his pocket.

“Hey,” he begins, shoving the headphone plug into the slot at the bottom of the device, “Is everything okay back home?”

“Everything’s great,” Will’s voice crackles on the line and Mike peaks outside in the darkness to notice the forest surrounding him. They must be close to the cabin destination already. He didn’t think he had slept for that long. “Just checking in since it’s about time you’ve arrived if your dad didn’t take a rest.”

Mike laughs. “You’re cute, you know, checking up on me like this.” He hears Nancy snorting and reaches over Holly to pinch her bare arm. She glares at him and covers Holly’s eyes to flip him off. “Nancy says hello by the way.”

“Hello back to her.” Mike can hear Will’s grin and his heart clenches in sorrow at the current distance between them. “Are you doing okay there?”

“Yeah, peachy.” Mike yawns and covers his mouth. “Is it too cheesy to say I already miss you?”

“Maybe, but I miss you, too, so you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.”

A sleepy smile curls itself on Mike’s lips. “One week, Byers; one week and then I’m back.”

“Yeah, but don’t spend your time counting down the days, alright? I’ll do that for us both; you just have a great time at the cabin.”

Mike would kiss him if he could. “I’ll try my best but you know how my brain works.”

“Are you telling me it actually does work?”

“I’m breaking up with you.” Will laughs heartily. “Why are you laughing; I’m serious this time.”

“Sure, Wheeler.” Mike frowns as the last bit of his name gets caught in static. “Hey, I know this is probably something that should wait until you’re back but this separation made me realize I should tell you either way.”

“This sounds pretty important.”

“Yeah. I, uh, you probably already know this though but,” and Will takes a deep breath and releases it, though Mike hears it in short, split crackles. “Mike, I love you.”

The clarity in those four words stuns Mike into speechlessness and his mouth dries as his heart thumps speedily in his chest. Will is right, Mike already knows Will loves him, but this is the first time Will has ever said the fact out loud. I love you echoes in Mike’s head at the reverb levels of a rock guitarist. It takes far too long for his brain to come back online, but by the time it does, the car speeds past a brush of trees and the call suddenly drops. Mike looks down at his phone screen as the loud call dropped tone passes through his headphones. His home screen—a playfully disgruntled selfie as Will kisses his cheek—stares him back in the face as Will’s voice continues to bounce about in his head.

Mike, I love you.

Mike quickly calls back but his phone spits back the message that he has no service. “Nancy,” he hisses even though the entire car heard his part of his conversation with Will anyway, “do you have any service on your phone? I need to call Will back and my phone is being homophobic.”

Nancy raises her eyebrows but checks phone and shakes her head. “Looks like you’re straight out of luck.”

“Ha; you’re quite the comedian, aren’t you.” Mike reaches forward to tap his mom’s arm. “Mom, can I borrow your phone to finish a call?”

“Sorry, sweetie, I’ve lost service, too. I don’t think any of us can use internet on our phones.”

“Does the cabin at least have wifi?”

“Nope,” snorts Mike’s dad as he drives the car down a dirt road further into the forest. “You kids these days need to learn what life is like without cell phones anyway.”

Mike rolls his eyes and mumbles under his breath, “Okay, boomer.”

“What was that, young man?”

“Okay, bummer.” Nancy bites on her bottom lip and Mike sends her a grin before settling in his seat.

Their mom reaches a hand back to rest on Mike’s knee. “It’s only 7 days, Michael. I’m sure both you and Will can last that long without contact.”

He told me he loves me, Mom, he wants to explain but Will’s words are too fresh and far too private to blurt out in front of the whole family. He crosses his arms silently and turns to stare out the window, hoping that Will can wait out these next few days and hoping he doesn’t think Mike hung up on him after such an important conversation. I love you, too, he thinks to himself, smiling as he presses his hand against the chilly window and imagines Will on the other side as if the car window is the window in Will’s room and Will’s inside watching Mike with that ever so lovestruck grin filled with appreciation that Mike came over despite the cold night to comfort Will from the nightmares that occasionally plague him to this day.

I love you, Will, he repeats inwardly, wait for me.

[stoprobbersfic]

The thing is, in the complete madness of the past three days, he has completely forgotten about Tina’s Halloween party.

So, he thinks, he can’t really be blamed for not recognizing Samantha at all at his locker Monday morning.

To be fair, he barely recognizes his locker. He’d slept fitfully, at best, the night before, had been sure his mom would keep him home for the day, but she reminded him of how much summer school it had taken for him to catch up last year and told him to go while she took Will to the doctor.

He’s clumsily entering the combination, having fucked it up twice already, when a shadow falls across them. He’s about to sag in relief, about to reach for her hand and pull her close to reassure himself they really are still there, really are still alive, when the shadow speaks.

“Seems you like school about as much as parties.”

 It’s not Nancy’s voice.

His head shoots up and finds a small, slim girl in front of him with long, straight blonde hair and dancing eyes. She’s wearing a black sweater and a black backpack and a smirk. Something about the smirk makes him pause; it’s familiar. But he can’t place it.

“Uh,” he starts. Then he stops. His mouth just stays open and his brain grinds to a halt, trying desperately to figure out what’s going on. He glances quickly side to side to see if anyone is watching him acting like an idiot. So far, no one is.

The girl waits a long beat, raises an eyebrow at him. “Samantha. You know, Kiss? But not?”

It’s like a wave crashing over him; the black wig, the stark makeup, the dizzying awkwardness of the party and sticking his foot in his mouth even though he knows who Siouxsie Sioux is, he owns her records, the growing sense that he was being flirted with just before Steve brushed past him, hard, and everyone but Nancy was forgotten.

“Oh. Right.” He doesn’t think she notices

“I know you said you don’t like parties, but you missed the rest of a really good party,” she leans against the locker next to his. She tilts her chin down just barely, looks up at him through her eyelashes, “It got a little wild later on.”

“What does that mean?” he asks before he can even think the question through. He doesn’t care, really has no interest in what happened at the rest of Tina’s party. Damn his reflexive politeness.

“Oh, you had to be there,” she shuffles a step closer. “I took some photos. I could show you, later.”

She’s definitely flirting and he… he has no idea what to do.

“I, uh…” He takes another glance around and a few people are looking his way, longer looks than usual. Oh, he hopes he’s not blushing. “I didn’t notice your camera?”

She bites her lip in a way he thinks is supposed to seem enticing and keep her from laughing and he’s really gotta ask Nancy about that later, if that’s a thing girls do outside of this one mortifying scenario and whether they think it works.

“I didn’t see you the day after. Or Friday for that matter,” Samantha is saying. “Wish I could skip like that.”

“I, uh. It wasn’t, um, exactly… that.”

“Oh, no? What was it, then?”

It’s not just that he can’t exactly say he ran off with Nancy to bring down a secret government lab, or that he then spent possibly the best night of his life with Nancy followed immediately by one of the worst nights of his life, also with Nancy. It’s not just that he’s wondering where Nancy is, or when she’s going to find him, or if he has to go find her to make sure she’s safe, she’s whole, and perhaps that she still wants to kiss him the way she did at Murray’s or when he dropped her and Mike off at the Wheelers’ last night.

It’s just that girls don’t flirt with him and what is he supposed to do to keep from being a total fool or a total ass?

“Just, uh, not… not that,” he tries. Fights to hold the wince off his face and only barely succeeds.

“So you didn’t skip school with Nancy Wheeler for two days? Because that’s what the rumor mill’s been saying.”

“No I mean, I did. The weekend, too,” it comes out immediately, like a reflex, and he sincerely hopes that if there any, any part of the Gate that isn’t closed it will open beneath his feet right now and swallow him whole.

“Oh.” Samantha straightens up, levels her face, and there’s something swirling behind her eyes that makes him feel terribly guilty. “I thought I heard… So are you guys—“

She cuts herself off just a second before he feels a hand slide into his, fingers lacing, a familiar grip he’s been thinking about all morning. A thin shoulder presses against the back of his arm and he almost sags with relief.

“Hey,” Nancy says softly, her breath whispering across his neck.

“Hey,” he murmurs back, glancing at her out the corner of his eye. Her hair is clean, is curly, and if there are dark circles under her eyes he can’t see them. She’s biting her lip, too.

“Hey Nancy,” Samantha says, her voice suddenly so much louder, so much brighter, and this time it’s only the squeeze of Nancy’s hand in his that keeps the wince off his face. “Sorry, Jonathan, I’m running late to class. I’ll see you later.”

There’s another two minutes until the warning bell is set to sound. “Uh, ok. See you later.”

Samantha offers them both a tight smile before swiftly taking off down the hall so fast her hair bounces, and he closes his eyes against the image. Nancy keeps hold of his hand as she slides silently to face him. When he opens his eyes, hers are dancing and there’s a smile threatening to burst across her lips.

“That,” she says slowly, “was the most awkward thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

Then the smile does burst, and from it comes loud giggles, and he rolls his eyes, turning back to his locker. The warmth of her, the feeling of her next to him, has cleared his head a bit and he enters his combination easily this time.

“Shut up.”

“Have you never flirted with anyone before?”

“No!” He pulls out books and stuffs them awkwardly into his bag one-handed, unwilling to let go of her. “It’s not like I’ve had girls chasing after me.”

“But you’ve flirted with me.”

“That’s different,” he murmurs. Instead of shutting his locker he tugs lightly on her hand, tries to tamp down his soaring heart when she takes a step closer immediately. “You’re different.”

He sees her grin soften as he brings his face down, feels her tilt her chin up to accept his kiss. It’s a brief, stolen thing, but it makes something inside him he didn’t even realize was roiling calm into smooth glass.

“You’re a terrible flirt,” she says when she pulls away. It’s so normal, so absurdly teenage, he almost can’t believe it. It’s as if all they did this weekend was get together, not fight another set of monsters from an alternate dimension. Again.

He rolls his eyes, shuts his locker. “Am not.”

“No, I mean, you’re terrible at it. Really, really bad.”

“Oh, shut up!”

“Do you want lessons? I could give you lessons.”

“What, so I can flirt with other girls?”

“No, so you can flirt with me, but better.”

She keeps teasing him all the way to English, and doesn’t let go of his hand.

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

S.T REWRITE - S1:E2; Chapter Two, The Weirdo on Maple Street - [Pt. 5 - FINAL PART]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

Y/n, Lucas, Dustin, and Mike try to talk to the girl they found in the woods. Hopper questions an anxious Joyce about an unsettling phone call.

||3rd Person POV||

An upbeat song plays on the radio as Barb and Nancy drove down the small road to Steve Harrington's house when Nancy speaks up out of the blue.

"Barbara, pull over."

"What?"

"Pull over!"

Barb pulls the car over to the side of the road and puts on the parking break, then looks to her best friend.

"What are we doing here? His house is three blocks away."

"We can't park in the driveway." Nancy says defensively."

"Are you serious?" Barb asked annoyed.

"Yeah, the neighbors might see."

"This is so stupid. I'm just gonna drop you off." She says rolling her eyes and reaching for the gear shift.

Nancy reaches to stop her friend. "Calm down, Barb. Come on. You promised that you'd go. You're coming. we're gonna have a great time." Nancy says with an innocent smile.

"He just wants to get in your pants." Barb exclaimed.

Nancy chuckled, rolling her eyes. "No, he doesn't." She cooed.

"Nance... seriously." She sighed. "He invited you to his house. His parents aren't home. Come on, you are not this stupid."

"Tommy H. and Carol are gonna be there." She defended.

"Tommy and Carol have been having sex since, like, seventh grade. It'll probably just be, like, a big orgy." She said rolling her eyes.

Nancy's face scrunched in disgust. "Gross."

"I'm serious!"

"All right, well..." Nancy reached her arm under her sweater and began changing shirts as she spoke. "you can be, like, my guardian. All right? Make sure I don't get drunk or do anything stupid.

Barn shook her head and sighed looking down at her lap. She stopped once she noticed the particularly fancy bra Nancy was wearing and asked. "Is that a new bra?"

Nancy looked at Barb, then avoided eye contact as she spoke softly. "No."

The two ladies had finally made it to Steve's house and now stood on his front porch. Nancy was the one to ring the doorbell and she noticed Barb rocking back and forth on her heels nervously.

"Barb, chill."

"I'm chill." She says defensively.

Suddenly the doors swing open to reveal none other than Steve Harrington. He smiled at Nancy then Barb.

"Hello, ladies." She said with a mischievous grin. (We stan one amazing mom.)

 ¤ ¤ ¤  

Hopper's bedroom floor was littered with clothes. He was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. His latest one night stand asleep next to him. He gets up out of bed and gets dressed.

He stands outside alone with his thoughts.

Soon he hears the soft pitter patter of bare feet on the porch. He turns to Sandra as she looks up at him while huddling up next to him for warmth.

"What are you doing? It's freezing."

There's a moment of silence before he finally speaks up. "You ever feel cursed."

She stays silent not knowing what to say.

"You know, the last person to go missing here was in, uh... the summer of '23. The last suicide was the fall of '61."

He falls silent and waits, hoping for some words of encouragement. Only for her to chuckle and try and crack a joke.

"When'd the person freeze to death? Hey, come back inside. Warm me up. Just..."

His lips press into a firm line. "Just give me a minute out here."

She nodded and hurried inside.

||Reader's POV||

We had all convinced El to come out of her fort. The three boys were huddled together whispering and I joined El at the D&D table. In fact, she sat where Mike sat during the campaign and I subconsciously sat where Will did on that night.

Although I was a little surprised to see how focused she became. She gently spread her hands along the table, her fingers touching the board.

The three boys walk over. "What's the weirdo doing?" Lucas questions. I give him a glare, to warn him. He clears his throat and corrects himself. "Sorry. Eleven."

I smile, silently thanking him.

"El?" Mike asks. She had her eyes closed for a short while and suddenly she opens them. She grabs Will's signature miniature, the cleric. I hold my breath in anticipation.

"Will." She says.

"Superpowers." Dustin whispered. Lucas rolled his eyes and Mike sat down between me and El, and started asking the questions that were on all our minds.

"Did you see him? On Mirkwood? Do you know where he is?" She set aside the cleric as I spoke up, my voice barely above a whisper.

"El?" She looks up at me. "Is there... is there anything... anything at all that you could tell us? Anything that you know about our friend?" I ask, my voice breaking. She gives me a sympathetic smile and clears the board by swiping her arm across the table. We all watch intently as she reaches forward and flips the board upside down.

We all stare at the board, and then look to El as she grabs the cleric and slams it down in the center of the board. My stomach seems to drop, in perfect sync with the miniature.

"I don't understand." Mike croaks.

The room is silent for a few moments as we stare at El, waiting for her response. "Hiding." Her voice came out in a whisper.

"W-Will is hiding?" I stammer.

She nods her head 'yes'.

My hands subconsciously find their way through my hair as I try and swallow all of this information.

"From the bad men?" Mike clarifies.

Her brows furrow ever so slightly as she shakes her 'no'. I take a deep breath.

"Then from who?"

She looks to her side and grabs another miniature, and places it next to the cleric. I let out a breath of air I didn't even know I was holding when I recognized the dreaded Demogorgon piece. We all look around to each other, a look of horror on our faces. Dustin puts his hands behind his head and I put my head in my hands as I try not to panic.

||3rd Person POV||

When Jonathan returned to Hawkins, he drove down to Mirkwood rather than returning home, hoping he could take a few pictures of the crime scene and maybe find some clue. His car came to a stop next to the police barricades.

When he gets out of the car, he opens his trunk and grabs his camera. He closes the trunk and ducks under the police tape and heads into the woods.

He takes a good look around before kneeling down, adjusting his lenses and snapping a photo of a snapped twig near the base of a tree. He takes a look around and whispers to no one in particular. "Where are you?"

He takes a few steps to his left and snaps another photo of an old tire and some fallen branches.

He takes a few steps back in the direction of the car, kneels down a snaps another photo, this one of the forest floor.

Jonathan jumps to his feet with a gasp when he hears a woman shrieking in the distance. Without a second thought he sprints farther into the woods, following the noise.

He runs faster when he hears another shriek. However, he comes to a sudden halt when he sees it's only a couple of teenagers gathered around a pool. In fact, it was Tommy H. and Carol.

Tommy was getting ready to toss Carol into the pool. "One! Two!"

"Stop it, Tommy, no! Don't!" She yells.

"Three!" He sets her back down laughing after pretending to throw her in the pool.

Carol shoves him. "You're such an asshole, Tommy."

Jonathan noticed there other people around the pool as well. He recognized Barbara Holland, Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler. Nancy and Barb were seated on a couple of pool chairs, while Steve brought out some beer.

Steve took out his pocket knife and poked a whole in the bottom of one of the cans. He immediately put his mouth up to the can and began drinking, once he finished he set down the now empty can on the side table and took a seat. Barb rolls her eyes and Nancy shook her head laughing slightly.

"Is that supposed to impress me?"

Steve looks to her, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips.

"You're not?" He asked surprised.

"You are a cliché, you do realize that?

"You are a cliché." He retorts, lighting his cigarette. "What with your... your grades and your band practice."

Nancy let's out a laugh. "I'm so not in band."

"Okay, party girl. Why don't you just, uh, show us how it's done, then?" He hands her his pocket knife.

She take the knife, smugly grinning. "Okay." She chirps. She stands up grabs a beer can. Barb looks down at her lap, shaking her head in disappointment.

Jonathan stands, still watching from the bushes.

"You gotta make a little hole right in--"

"I got it." Nancy says. Tommy and Carol stand watching.

"Yeah, she's smart, you douche!" Tommy calls drunkenly. He then crushes an empty beer can agaisnt his skull and throwing it to the ground as Nancy makes the hole in her own beer can.

Everyone besides Barb begins chanting as she drinks. "Chug, chug, chug. Chug. Chug. Chug. Chug." Everyone cheers when Nancy drops her can to the ground while Barb looks away worried.

Nancy attempts a bow while Tommy and Carol laugh. Nancy, notices her friend's behavior and tries to help. "Barb, you wanna try?"

"What? No."

Nancy grab a can anyways, while Barb continues to decline. "No, I don't want to. Thanks."

"Come on." Nancy teases, unknowing encouraging Steve to pressure her as well.

"Yeah... Come on. Yeah" Steve said.

"Nance, I don't want to." Barb whispers as her friend hands her the can and knife.

"It's fun! Just give it a--"

"Nance..."

"Just... Just give it a shot" Nancy insisted.

Barb rolls her eyes, taking the can and knife. Nancy looks to Steve with a smile happy with herself. Steve smiles back and looks to Barb.

Barb struggles to get the knife through the aluminum as she mutters to herself. "So you just..." the knife slips and cuts her thumb.

Tommy chuckles as Barb drops the can on the ground. She cradles her hand in pain.

Tommy looks at the gushing wound with a smile. "Gnarly." He chuckles.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Barn replies instinctively.

"Barb, you're bleeding."

"I'm fine." She says firmly, staring at Nancy before turning to Steve. "Where's your bathroom?"

Steve begins to stammer as he stands up, gesturing inside the house. "Oh, it's... It's, uh, down past the kitchen, to the left."

"Okay. Thanks." Barb heads inside right as Jonathan snaps a picture. He adjusts his lense and takes another picture, ors focus ed onTommy and Carol as they stand facing the pool laughing. While Nancy looks towards the house in a worried stance.

Suddenly, Tommy shoves an unsuspecting Carol into the pool when her back was turned. she falls in with a scream as she makes a big splash. Nancy walks to the edge of the pool laughing, Tommy puts his cigarette out by dropping it onto the wet pavement.

"Oh, my God! What the hell, Tommy?" She shrieks. Once he abandoned his cigarette, Tommy drove straight into the water after her. Steve sneaks up behind Nancy and gives her a shove into the pool as well. He  jumped into the pool arms and legs flailing. everyone was laughing and horsing around.

Jonathan was able to snap a couple of pictures of Steve holding Nancy's shoe just out of her reach, the two of them laughing. He got one more. Only Nancy's face was visible, and she was laughing with a huge smile on her face.

¤ ¤ ¤

Back at the Byers house, Joyce was fast asleep, phone still in her hand. Suddenly the obnoxious ringing of the telephone woke her up. She frantically picked up phone. "Hello?"

There was silence on the other end and she stood up. "Hello." She said firmly.

She heard the familiar breathing and started shifting on her feet, anxiety and adrenaline beginning to take take over her body. "Who is this?" There's more breathing.

"Will?" She whimpers. No answer, only more breathing. Will, it's me." She sobs into the phone. "Talk to me. I'm here. Just tell me where you are, honey. I can here you. Please."

There is an indistinct moan on the other end. Then a came the slightly distorted voice of a frightened Will Byers. "Mom?"

Joyce let out a huge gasp, not noticing the lights began flickering wildly. "Will!" She cries. "Yes, it's me. It's me. Where are you? Where are you? Just talk to me--" Before Joyce could finish her sentence her phone there was another surge of electricity that shot through the phone and zapped Joyce Byers a second time. She dropped the phone in shock and pain, the dial tone could be heard humming through the end of the line.

"Oh, no, no! No!" She cried, bending down and picking g up the phone once more trying as hard as she could to bring back the call. "No! Oh, no! No, no..." She sobbed. She grabbed the entire set and threw it to the ground in anger. "No!" She sank to her knees in defeat.

"No!" She howled slamming her fist against the floor, and bring her hand to her head rocking back and forth sobbing. The lights flicker once more and she wails, throwing her fists to the ground again.

The lights begin to flicker violently, it was enough to grab her attention as he looked all around, tears in her eyes.

Suddenly only the light above her flickers a few times she stands up looking at it.

"Jonathan?" She calls out in confusion.

Next the light in the hallway flickers a few times as well. She walks over to the light, sticking to the wall still sobbing.

"What?" She whimpers, by know she knows this isn't random. It can't possible be random.

It stops blinking, and the lamp at the end of the hallway begins to flicker. she stares in confusion as she walks closer to the lamp, she throws herself against the wall in fear as she is startled by the blaring music coming from Will's room.

"Should I stay or should I go now?"

Joyce whimpers as she looks down at the bottom door and notices the lights flickerinf violently from under his door. She takes a deep breath and gathers her courage. She steps forward and and opens the door, finding an empty room.

However, a the lights were magically on and his favorite song was now blasting on his boombox. Joyce stepped into her son's room, tears in her eyes as she whispered. "Will..."

"Should I stay or should I go now?"

She looks her left when she notices the lamp near the window on his dresser begins flickering.

"If I go there will be trouble"

She slowly steps forward towards the lamp, and grabbing the lamp shade. "Will."

"And if I stay it will be double. So you got to let me know"

"Will, is that you?"

"Should I stay or should I go?"

The lamp glows to bright intense light. suddenly every light in house goes out, as well as the music. She stands there in shock, whimpering as the room grows dark. Suddenly she hears a high pitched moan, she looks to the wall on her left and stares in horror as a very large lump grows through the wall.

She screams her throat raw as she stumbles back, running for the door as the figure in the wall grows taller and more grotesque. A deep growl emits through the wall.

By now she had gotten to her front door, she threw it open and pulled it shut as she sprinted for her car. "Oh, my God!" She says breathlessly and she fumbles to throw open the car door. She frantically reaches for her keys, whimpering. "Oh, God." Oh my, God..." She struggles to start the car as fast as she can. She breathes a sigh of relief when the engine roars to life.

Her head whips back to house, more specifically, to Will's bedroom window when she hears the faint sound of boom box coming back to life.

"Should I stay or should I go now?"

Guilt immediately washes over her as she sits there contemplating. That was her boy. And he was in there, and he was in trouble.

The lights flicker frantically.

"If I go there will be trouble"

She can't seem to find it within her self to leave. To leave him behind. He was calling out to her.

"And if I stay it will be double"

Biting her lip, she turns off the car.

"So come on and let me know"

She throws open the car door and steps out, slamming it behind her. She storms confidently for the house. For her boy.

¤ ¤ ¤

The four teens stand inside Steve's living room, each of them drying off with a towel.

"I'm freezing." Carol shivers.

"Hmm... well, I hear his mom's room has a fireplace." Tommy humm, beckoning a smiling Carol.

"Are you kidding?"

"Oh, yeah?" Carol chirps, ignoring Steve and following Tommy upstairs.

"Okay, well, you know, you are cleaning the sheets." Steve scoffs.

"You all right?" He asked Nancy, putting a hand on her back.

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Come on, let's get you some dry clothes."

Nancy follows Steve up the stairs. She stops in her tracks once she hears the calls of her best friend from the bottom of the stairs.

"Nance! Nancy. Where are you going?" She asks worriedly.

"Nowhere. Just... upstairs. To change. I..." she opened up her towel to reveal her soaking wet clothes. "fell in the pool." She chuckles innocently.

Barb's face falls.

"Why don't you go ahead and go home. I'll just... I'll get a ride or something." She offered.

"Nance..." she breathed out, obviously disappointed and saddened at her friend.

"Barb... I'm fine." She said smiling, attempting to hide her guilty smile behind her towel.

"This isn't you." She pleaded.

"I'm fine. Just... go ahead and go home, okay?" Nancy said, frustration creeping into her voice. with that she runs up the stairs to catch up with Steve. Barbara scoffs in disbelief, looking down at her feet.

Jonathan snaps another photo when he notices Nancy in the window. Steve walks up to her and gently taps her on the back getting her attention. she looks over and smiles when he hands her a pair of clothes.

"Thanks."

She takes a deep breath and looks down at her feet shyly. "Um... some privacy, maybe?" She suggested, a small smile on her face.

He clicks ships tongue and shakes his head. "Oh... Yeah, right. Sorry." He let's out a nervous laugh as he turns around. She puts the clothes on the bed and bites her lip before hesitantly speaking up. her voice barely above a whisper.

"Steve?"

He turns around, raising his eyebrows. Taking a deep breath, she takes her top off, her hands shaking slightly.

He only looks at her in awe. "Damn." He whispers. She chuckles nervously. "Shut up." A small smile finds it way to her face.

He slowly walks forward, reaching out, he runs a hand through her hair and gently pull her waist close with the other, bringing her in for a kiss.

Jonathan lowers his camera, sighing softly. Was it... disappointment he was feeling? He could tell. He looked across the pool and noticed Barb, sitting on the end of the diving board. She was holding her bandaged hand. Her feet were softly swaying back and forth in the water. She was gazing into deep into the water, deep in thought. Everything about her radiated sadness. Jonathan felt for her. Wanting to capture such raw emotion he brought the camera up so it was pointed at her.

The shutter clicked as he snapped a picture. He took another photo, the camera clicked once more. He pressed the button again, wanting to get another photo when he heard the shutter jam. He sighed and lowered his camera, he began fiddling with his camera to fix it.

Barb sat sadly, her feet dangling still dangling in the water. She was unsure what compelled her to stay. Maybe she was still upset at Nancy, or perhaps she couldn't bring herself to abandon her friend at a time like this. Nancy might need her if Steve or anybody else made her uncomfortable.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a soft plink! of the water. She looked down and sighed when she saw that she had gotten a drop of blood in the pool. She lifted her hand to examine the wound.

Her attention was drawn back to pool at sound of a soft buzzing and the pool lights suddenly went out. She froze when she heard a low growl coming directly behind her. She slowly looked up in fear and shrieked at the monster before her.

It's tall, lanky body was covered in slime and towered over her. It's large head opened up its many jaws, resembling a large plant, and roared.

Jonathan looked up when he thought he heard something. However, he looked up to see nothing out of the ordinary. He looked down at his camera and then retreated back to his car.

Meanwhile, things with Nancy and Steve continued to heat up.

She sighed and looked back at the water. Without breaking the kiss, the two made there way to bed and sitting down.

Back at the pool, nothing but the quiet buzz of the electricity could be heard, suddenly, all the lights flicker back on. However, Barb was nowhere to be seen.

Taglist: @fuckwaad @aimee-lucass

DM me if you want to be added!

[argylemikewheeler]

Prompt (Kinda): People say that in the leaked photos, Will is wearing Mike's shirt. It would make sense that Mike's mom gives Joyce Mikes old clothes for Will when he out grows them. So idk, maybe a scene where Will gets a big bag of Mikes old clothes and to him its treasure.

The Party assumes Will thinks it’s weird that Mrs. Wheeler is constantly collecting Mike’s clothes and giving them to Joyce for Will. They think it makes him feel weird having to wear Mike’s old sweaters (but still have the sleeves hang over his hands). Lucas likes to compliment Will’s clothes but never ask where he got them in case it makes Will uncomfortable.

But it doesn’t, it never does. Will loves getting Mike’s old clothes.

Whenever the bags are dropped off, Will takes it into his room to rip apart and see what fits. He takes out each piece and remembers a time when Mike wore it– their first date, their first kiss, the first time Mike takes his hand in public, the sweater Mike nearly ripped the sleeve off after catching it on Nancy’s car door one morning (but Joyce fixed it for him), the shirt Mike wore on their first day of high school. There are so many memories between the two of them easily remembered in his old shirts and sweaters. Will loves inheriting the clothes because it means the memories stay alive and between them just a little bit longer– for just a few more inches– before he retires them and they start whole new memories together.

[hannahberrie]

#31 for mileven please!

31. “Stop it, you’re embarrassing me.”

The Wheeler home is bustling with activity. Various relatives are scattered throughout the house. There’s a football game playing on the TV and the house smells of roasting Turkey, mulled wine, and fresh potatoes.

El’s never been to a Thanksgiving party, but she thinks that the Wheelers must be having a pretty good one. Laughter lingers in the air and echoes throughout their home. Holly’s playing LEGOs with some of the younger cousins in her room, Hopper’s off chatting with Ted and some of the uncles in the sitting room, and El’s seated with Mrs. Wheeler and Nancy on the TV room couch, looking through a family photo album.

“And there’s Mike on his first day of Kindergarten!” Mrs. Wheeler croons, flipping to the next page.

El beams down at the image of a small, 5-year-old Mike smiling at the camera, sporting some corduroy overalls, a striped t-shirt, and a Star Trek lunchbox. “He was so cute!” She gasps excitedly.

“Yeah, he was,” Nancy smiles teasingly, “What happened?”

Karen makes a chiding sort of sound as she flips to the next page, causing Nancy and El to burst into giggles.

“Here he is on his 6th birthday!” Karen says, pointing to a photograph of Mike seated behind a birthday cake that looks bigger than his own head.

“He’s so tiny!” Nancy snorts.

El points to the picture curiously. “What happened to his teeth?”

“He lost his first tooth right before this,” Karen explains to El, “I remember, whenever he talked, he would make the cutest little whistling sound!”

El laughs once more, unable to stop herself. “Th-that’s s-so funny!” She exclaims, delighted at the very thought.

“Oh, Mom!” Nancy pipes up, “Show her those bath pictures! The one where his hair looks like a mohawk from all the shampoo!”

“That one!” Karen smiles excitedly as she begins to search for it, “That one always made your dad laugh.”

“Oh my god!” Mike groans from the loveseat a few feet away. He’s slouching so much, he’s more draped over the loveseat than actually sitting on it, “Can you guys stop it? You’re embarrassing me!”

“This is fun!” Nancy smiles at him, a wicked glint in her eye.

“For you,” Mike grumbles, rolling his eyes.

El knows that Mike’s getting all fussy about them looking through his baby pictures like this, but her curiosity is just too strong. Seeing these snapshots of Mike’s childhood makes her feel all the more connected to him, especially since she didn’t have much of a childhood herself. It’s normalizing and therapeutic in a strange sort of way.

Also, it’s just really, really funny.

Unfortunately, before they can get to the infamous shampoo-mohawk picture, the kitchen timer goes off.

“Oh!” Mrs. Wheeler perks up, closing the album on her lap, “That’s the Turkey!”

“I’ll help you with it,” Nancy offers, rising from the couch.

Karen gives her a grateful smile and the two head off to the kitchen together, leaving El with alone with Mike.  

El turns to him with a grin. “You’re cute.”

Mike gives her a tired, grumpy sort of look. “Thanks.”

He’s wearing a collared sweater that makes him look even cuter than usual, in El’s not-so-humble opinion. He looks so cute, actually, that El decides to get off the couch, cross the room, and sit right on his lap.

“Hey,” she greets, kissing his forehead.

Mike’s still pouty, but he still wraps his arms around her waist and sits up straight. “You’re so mean.”

“I would show you my baby pictures,” El offers. The end of the sentence, the qualifier, remains unspoken but understood nonetheless.

Thankfully, the painful tinge to that statement doesn’t linger.

“You were probably way cuter than me,” Mike smirks, poking her cheek.

“No way,” El smiles, “Toothy.”

“Toothy?” Mike balks.

El snorts and giggles with a nod. She raises her finger to poke him right back. “Toothy.”

Mike huffs with a wry smile. “You’re annoying.”

“I’m not,” El dismisses, poking his nose.

“You’re not,” Mike admits.

El smiles triumphantly before leaning in to give him a kiss. She knows his relatives are only a room away, but in her defense, his sweater is really cute, and he looks even cuter when he gets all pouty.

Mike doesn’t seem to care about the possibility of being interrupted either, as he quickly gives into her kiss. As she cups his cheeks, his fingers curl in the back of her own sweater, pulling her closer to him.

Mike gives off a contented hum, so El pulls away to press a few kisses along his jaw.

“I’m thankful for you,” Mike murmurs thickly. He sounds dazed and when El turns to look up at him, she can see that his eyes look dark.

El presses her forehead against his as she catches her breath. “I’m thankful for you too,” she murmurs, meaning every word.

Mike glances in the direction of the kitchen before glancing back at her. “You know, we’re probably not gonna eat for like, at least 20 more minutes.”

El blushes, a tentative smile curving her lips. “Oh?”

Mike smiles, nods. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence, and then —  

“Your room?”

“Yeah!” Mike nods quickly.

El kisses his nose. “After you, Toothy.”

Mike groans in disdain. “Please, don’t.”

“Sorry!” El giggles as she grabs his hands and pulls him off of the couch.

Mike smiles. “You’re so not sorry.”

She’s really not.  

[transsteves]

dead stars [CH.7]

[MASTERPOST]

WARNINGS: alcohol, panic attacks

AUTHOR’S NOTE: YEAH this chapter is like. zero angst. maybe 0.1 angst. and it’s internal. like that’s it. have fun kids 💕

at three in the afternoon, after a full day of his mind wandering and worrying and doing backflips about the two disastrous teens, mike gets a text. it’s hilariously misspelled, letters mixed up and repeated, and he worries more when he replies and she doesn’t.

he can’t get out of school until five, but he makes his exit as efficient as possible, cramming himself into his car and blasting the loudest music he possibly can. an odd mix of anger and concern mixes in his stomach, the red light of the sunset bouncing off his black curls and shining into his eyes. they don’t talk to him; they never talk to him, and it hurts. it hurts to know that will and el are closer to one another than they are to him, that lucas and dustin and max have drifted away, that he’s alone, again, in the cosmic sense of it all, even if no one has really left.

it passes through his mind that he doesn’t blame them, that he doesn’t matter that much anyway. he pushes it down, knuckles turning white against the steering wheel, fingers curling round and pressing into his palms. he’s back to worrying, to thinking about everything that could have happened to them. he speeds a little down the road, has to swerve to avoid hitting a parked car, but his mind is elsewhere.

what if they’ve done something stupid?

what if they’ve hurt themselves?

what if it’s happening again? what if they’ve been dragged back to that place?

the air is filled with possibilities, and mike can feel the panic rising in his throat. it’s getting dark, the fall bringing with it the sun’s early exit, and the cold air is seeping in through the cracked windows. the hairs on his arms stand to attention as he finally pulls up in front of el’s house, and he has to take about a million deep breaths before opening the door - the what ifs echoing and circling and getting bigger and bigger and —

it’s like he’s walked into the aftermath of an explosion. the table by the window is on its side, containers of fast food that presumably used to be on top upturned and spilling. a record is tick tick ticking over on the record player in the corner, broken glass is scattered across the floor, the couch is upside down, somehow, behind a mass of blankets — and in the middle of it all, wearing socks and mike’s sweaters, el and will are tangled together, deep in sleep. a sigh of relief barely has a chance to leave his lips before he sees the three empty spirit bottles, and panic once again fills him from head to toe.

there’s dried blood on el’s face — that explains the mess, at least — and the way will’s sweater falls, mike can see bruises on his collarbones, and he panics. his brain moves a mile a minute and screams at him as he rushes to shake them awake.

el wakes with a shout, and the bowl of chips flies across the room, barely missing mike’s head and hitting the wall behind him. will wakes up at that, eyes wide with shock, before collapsing into yet another fit of giggles and sinking back down. within a couple of seconds, mike watches the two fall back into each other, somehow so close they almost become one entity, one entity with two laughs, screeching almost maniacally as the sunlight dies.”mike!” they shout as one, and laugh into each other, their bellies filled with alcohol and sparing love.

mike shakes the fact that they both look so beautiful from his mind, his brow furrowing and eyes closing as he runs his hands from his hairline to his chin. a clap, loud enough to separate the el-will mess, before he pulls them to standing, one by one, met with grumbles and grunts and “dude, come on"s. will falls twice, once cracking his hip against the coffee table and once, heavily, into mike -arms around his neck, bright, toothy grin so close to mike’s face that he can feel his friend’s breath heat his cheek.

“c’mon, will. let’s get you home.”

“but miiiike!” will whines, sound drawn out through pouting lips. “i don’t wanna!”

one arm around will’s waist, holding him up, mike’s free hand pinches at the bridge of his nose. he won’t admit it, that the proximity is nice, because will’s skeletal form is digging into his hipbone, and his drunkenness is making him heavier. “no. your mom’ll worry. she probably already is.”

“she always worries!”

“are you gonna walk or am i gonna carry you?”

mike uses the sternest voice he can, but stumbles, stuck in between the girl he’s been in love with since the first time he laid eyes on her and the boy who—

no, he pushes that down, just as he always has.

will pushes him away, holds his hands up, suddenly grinning again, slurring out words that don’t make much sense but that mike assumes mean that he’ll make his own way. a part of mike misses the warmth of will against his skin, but he pushes it down, backing up to open the front door. “c’mon. both of you. el! c'mon!”

will grabs her, they giggle, and stumble together, imitating mike as they go, complete with pouty faces and whiny voices; the sober boy can’t decide whether to smile or grumble, and settles on something in between, an apathetic smirk that doesn’t reach his eyes.

nonetheless, he finds himself glancing in the rear view mirror every chance he gets while driving. he admires the way the streetlamps light both will and el’s smiling faces, the way their hair is lit in shades of gold. the stars have started to bloom into view, the sky an ever-stretching expanse of nothingness, a backdrop for a play in which they laugh into the night, one that mike could watch forever.

the drive is short, and the driveway is empty when he puts the car into park. joyce is probably working late and jonathan probably with nancy as usual – the house is quiet, a blessing, as he practically drags will from the car, through the front door, and through the house to his room.

the slender boy giggles and pokes at his face the whole time, grinning in a way under which mike struggles not to melt.

he pushes it down, just as he always has. on some level, he doesn’t think he’ll ever let it out, but knows he’ll never be happy if he doesn’t— he settled into that truth years ago.

carefully laying the skinny boy down on his bed, mike is lost in thought as will giggles uncontrollably. will reaches up again to drunkenly poke mike’s cheek, but is pushed back down as mike hurries around the room, placing a trashcan by the bed (just in case), and a glass of water on the little chest of drawers. above the bed still hangs an old corkboard, covered with photos and sketches and old memories — the corner of the crayon-doodled will the wise still peeking out from beneath beautiful photorealistic pencil recreations of seemingly every person will has ever known. a reminder of old times, crawling beneath the surface of the new. mike stares, for a moment, eyes settling on a perfect rendition on himself, before will’s slurring voice pulls his attention away, unintelligible words drifting into the air. absentmindedly, he mutters, “what?” as he bends down a little to hear him better, but he’s met with both of will’s hands cupping his face. both boys stare at one another with wide eyes, and mike’s suddenly terrified.

“mike!”

“…yeah?”

“michael!”

“yes, will.”

“mike michael mike wheeler!”

“that’s— what, will? what?”

he watches will’s face twist strangely, just for a second, resembling something strangely close to fear or pain, something like the way he’d looked when he broke his arm in fifth grade, or when he finally woke up after the bathroom incident. mike feels panic rise again, but it doesn’t have long, because will’s grinning again, and monologuing, and repeating himself over and over, like he’s trying to make sure the words don’t disappear back into his throat.

“i’m gay, dude! i’m so fucking— tell el i owe her thirty bucks— i’m so fucking gay, like—”

“what?” mike chokes out, but it doesn’t stop the raging train that is will, even as he releases mike’s face from his grasp and he starts talking at the ceiling instead of the friend at his bedside.

“—boys are so cute and— fuck, shit, don’t tell mike but like, mike is so cute— shit, you’re mike, don’t tell mike— mike! don’t tell mike but like… i’m so gay, shit, because fuck, i’m just— i hate hawkins, y'know? ‘cause it’s all bullshit, and they make ya hate yourself and it’s all bullshit and y'know? fuck. just fuck it. just fuck it…”

the words get slower, taper off towards their ends, until he’s practically whimpering out syllables. his eyes are closed, and then he’s out like a light, and mike is standing alone in his room.

mike is standing alone in will’s room, examining everything with pinpoint focus, noticing now that the sketch of himself on will’s wall is more precise than the others. he’s watching the boy’s chest rise and fall, and finding it impossible to match his rhythm. he’s trying to wade his way past the returning panic, the ensuing battle so harsh that his ribs burn.

he squeezes his burning eyes shut and runs away.

he pushes it down, like he always has, but it bubbles up between his fingers and screams against his every movement.

he runs out the front door and slams it behind him.

he tries to push it down, but it begins to take him over, and he can’t breathe under the weight of it.

he slams the door of the car and reverses out of the drive like they’re being chased, waking el with a start. she begins to mutter a question, before slipping away again.

he can’t push it down anymore. it wants to be free, to stop him putting every syllable and movement through a filter for the world around him.

he chokes, holds his breath, and ignores the way his eyes burn and leak as he tears down the street.

NOTES: i hope u guys liked that chapter. i am building up to shit i swear, it just takes a whole damn while. idk if this fic will ever end at this point jeez. but anyway! as always, any feedback and criticism is massively welcome, message me to be added to the taglist, and here’s the:

TAGLIST: @beforetoday @king-wheezy-trash @marikamber @turkerlymarsh @benverlyharsh @eddskaspbrak @thescaryflower @serendipity-y @whee-ler @doesnthavetobesobad

[mirdaniaa]

christmas sweater

Max and Dustin’s moms had really hit it off last year; though both initially claimed they weren’t looking for anything serious, they soon came to change their tune. It had started with family dinners once a week, then several times a week, then exchanging keys, then a trip to the Grand Canyon, and finally the two women had decided to seal the deal and move in together. Max and Dustin, to their credit, were handling it with grace; they were happy that their mothers had found someone that made them happy, and they spent so much time together anyway that living in the same house wasn’t really as weird as it could have been.

The prospect of their first Christmas together as a family was exciting. They went hog wild with decorations, turning their house into a veritable catalog display. Even Max, who made a point of never showing enthusiasm for anything, seemed in high spirits.

Until, that is, she came home from school to find what was possibly the ugliest sweater she’d ever seen before laid on her bed.

“Mom?” she called down the hall. “What is this?”

Dustin appeared in his own doorway holding an identical sweater. “You too?”

Claudia and Susan appeared in the same sweaters, grinning.

“We’re gonna take a picture by the tree!” Claudia said excitedly. “Put on your sweaters!”

“You’re...taking pictures of us? Wearing these?” Max asked, eyes widening.

“It’s for the Christmas card,” Susan piped up. “It’ll be so cute!”

Max and Dustin exchanged horrified looks.

“Mom,” Dustin said in his most reasonable voice. “Aren’t Max and I...kind of old for this?”

“Oh, stop trying to be cool teenagers and just take a picture with your moms!”

“Do we...have to wear the sweaters?” Max ventured.

“Don’t you like them?” Susan asked, her face falling.

“Of course we do!” both kids lied.

“Then put them on and meet us in the living room!”

Claudia and Susan jingled away (literally jingled—their earrings were bells) and left Max and Dustin to regard one another with horror.

“We really have to do this, don’t we?” Max asked faintly.

Dustin began to pace. “It’s just a picture,” he reasoned.

“A picture they’ll send out to all their friends!”

“Right—their friends,” he pointed out. “None of our friends have to know.”

They considered it.

“Okay,” Max finally decided. “We take the picture, and then...and then we never speak of this again.”

So they pulled on the sweaters and went to the living room. Claudia and Susan had the camera set up on a tripod and put it on a timer; they got a series of increasingly embarrassing photos of the whole family posing by the tree like one of those families in an L.L. Bean catalog. As soon as Claudia was satisfied, the two teenagers raced to their rooms to shed the sweaters, shoving them under their beds so that they never had to look at the monstrosities again.

Or so they thought.

.

It was not long after the Christmas card photos were taken that the party was over at the Wheeler house. They were talking and laughing as they moved into the kitchen to get snacks. Dustin, never shy about his hunger, was the first to get to the fridge. He stopped short in horror.

Everyone else stopped and looked at what caught his attention. Max’s face paled. Everyone else was trying valiantly not to laugh.

“Mike,” Dustin said. “What. Is that picture. Doing on your fridge?”

“Oh, your moms sent me a Christmas card,” Karen trilled. “You all look so cute in your matching sweaters!”

Dustin and Max wanted to die.

[curiositydooropened]

Christmas at the Wheeler’s, like most things at the Wheeler’s, looked like Max had stepped onto the set of one of those old fashioned, sappy holiday musicals her mom sobbed to every year. Everything was lit up, technicolor, glossed over with a rosy glow. The fireplace was lit and stoked. Five perfect, store-bought stockings hung among the boughs of holly, just under an array of Sears-booth photographs. A large tree was adorned to the tip top with tinsel and real glass ornaments. All the presents beneath glistened under gold lamé bows.

Max almost didn’t want to unwrap hers. She wanted to pull the Scotch tape as carefully as she could to keep the paper prestine. Her own presents, comic books she’d paid for with scrounged arcade change, were haphazardly taped brown parcels, carefully tied with string. Their Christmas budget was low, Mom said, because of funeral costs. They were still recovering.

Mike had gotten her a really nice sweater, which was thoughtful, too thoughtful. And Lucas got pissed until Mike explained that El had picked it out, and she’d be wearing a matching one in New Mexico. Lucas got Max a framed photo of himself, the idiot.

After presents, they enjoyed some punch and took turns on the Atari until the front door opened with a gust of cool air, and two more guests tumbled in, stomping the snow from their boots onto the entry rug.

“Mike!?” Nancy called through the house, but she needn’t look far to see the motley crew huddled in their Christmas sweaters in front of the television. Dustin and Mike were jamming their joysticks. Lucas sat on the couch beside Max, making her too warm and itchy with his arm wrapped over her shoulder.

“What!?” Mike yelled back, not seeing his sister’s entrance.

“I’m home.” Nancy was breathless, from the cold or something else, Max wasn’t sure, but the older girl’s cheeks and nose were pinched pink, and she had the start of icicles in her hair. She was out there a while. “Hi, Max,” she smiled, holding up a small hand to wave.

Max nodded a hello.

“You guys get enough to eat? Where’s Holly?” She looked around the small room for her littlest sister.

The familiar sound of a knock out called from the television, and Dustin tossed his joystick in a fit of slander and rage. Mike raised two fists in the air, triumphant, before focusing in on the annoyed teen in the room. “Shit, what?” He blinked.

“Seriously, Mike!?” Nancy huffed in retreat. They heard her footsteps hurdle up the staircase. “Holly!?!”

Max felt a twinge of panic, wondered if the rest of them prickled at the idea of a missing child. Maybe it affected them worse than her, she never knew. She hadn’t recalled seeing Holly all evening. Somewhere between the cookies and punch, maybe? When the kitchen bustled with bodies and Mrs. Wheeler smacked lips to Mike’s obstinant cheek as she and Mr. Wheeler swept off to their evening’s party.

Reluctantly, Mike stretched his long limbs from his cross-legged position on the floor and followed his older sister to investigate upstairs. Lucas, seeing an opening, found his spot beside Dustin on the living room floor.

Suddenly feeling antsy and alone, Max relieved herself and headed toward the kitchen, mumbling something about punch. Really, she wanted a better vantage of the staircase and the front door, in case something were to go awry. In the kitchen, she knew she could arm herself. She passed the entry way, a stacked flurry of puffer jackets, and her socks dampened beneath the run-off of wet snow boots. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but continued to pad her path, peeking up the staircase for any indication of the little girl’s safety.

Max’d craned her neck so far to see up the stairs that by the time she wheeled her focus to the kitchen, she’d nearly run smack into the side of Steve Harrington, who now stood draped against the Wheeler’s island, mouth full and second Christmas cookie in hand. “Whey, Mah-,” he greeted, crumbs coating a bright blue puffer vest. He waved.

Max clutched at her chest and shook her head, moving to fill a plastic cup with punch. “Hi, Steve. What’re you doing here?” She half-paid attention to her actions, taking the new vantage point to look toward the blue staircase.

“I’m here to take Dustin home.” Steve gestured in Dustin’s vague direction with the cookie in his hand. “Is your mom coming?”

Where were the Wheelers? The hallway upstairs remained dimly lit. It seemed like Mrs. Wheeler had changed the wallpaper again, something more with-the-times. At least the lighting remained stable, no blinking, no changes. The air in the kitchen felt warm, too hot, except Max’s hand. Why would her hand be cold?

Her eyes flicked focus to her freezing hand to watch bright red punch spill over the full cup and back into the punch bowl. “Shit!” She dropped the ladle and carefully dumped punch out of her cup, standing on tiptoe to avoid spillage onto her hand-knit Christmas sweater.

“Pour much?” Steve snorted.

“Shove it, asshole,” Max sneered, setting her cup down to find one of Mrs. Wheeler’s hand towels to dry the liquid.

Steve had found it already, in anticipation for the spill, and he handed it over with a grin, using his dry, but freezing, fingers to roll up Max’s sleeve. His hands were bright red, and cold, as though he’d been outside for hours. With warmth filling her cheeks, Max mumbled a thanks and avoided glancing back up at him while she dried off. Her fingers remained sticky at the joints.

“God, Mike, you’re such a freak,” Nancy hissed at the top of the stairs. Her not-so-little brother slunk behind her, all limbs and shrugged shoulders.

“Shut up,” a small smirk met his thin lips, but he halted at the landing, bushy eyebrows furrowed into the signature Mike Wheeler grimace. “What the hell is he doing here?”

Steve rolled his eyes and reached for a third sugar cookie. He leaned once more against the counters to behead Santa before saying, “shut up, dickhead.”

Mike just rolled his eyes and followed Nancy to the kitchen to grab a handful of salted nuts.

“Was Holly okay?” Max asked softly, slipping her upper lip over the rim of her cup to slurp the excess punch from the top. It was sweet, but the fizz had flattened from hours laying stagnant in a warm house.

“Oh yeah, she’d crashed while playing Barbies.” Nancy smiled softly, cornering a star between dainty eye teeth. “God, those were the days, weren’t they?”

Max hummed a smile, chest loosening in relief. She’d never had Barbies growing up, well, one or two, because Mom wanted her to, but she was always more into skinning her knees and jamming buttons at the arcade.

A cry of victory shook the house from the family room, and Mike quickly hurried off to congratulate the winner, or take his turn, and Max took a deep breath before deciding if she wanted to follow. She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. It was getting late, and if she wanted to make it home by curfew, she should probably get going soon. At least, if Neil was sober and awake, which was more and more unlikely nowadays.

“Steve,” Nancy gasped, covering a chuckle with the back of her hand. “You’ve got… tree…” She laughed and reached to pull an assortment of twigs from Steve Harrington’s famous brown locks. His dark eyes screwed upward to watch the action, and upon noticing the culprit, he quickly checked his hair with his hands. His immediate panic sent Nancy into a fit of giggles.

“Shut up,” he rolled his eyes, but Max noticed the fondest of smiles breech the corners of his pink lips. He watched Nancy laugh before lifting a hand to her curls. “Shit, you do too.” He snorted and pulled some juniper from her hair as well.

The room felt very tight, like all of the air had been sucked from it. The last laugh fell from Nancy’s lips, and Max held her breath simultaneously, too embarrassed to make a noise. She watched Steve’s hand pick at twigs and berries, and the items pebbled on the linoleum at their socked feet.

His hands were big, overtaking Nancy’s petit face and frame, as they ghosted her cheek and neck and arm, and finally fell to his sides. Max could feel herself trembling, curiosity fluttering somewhere in her stomach, wondering if Steve’s hand would feel the same as Lucas’s in hers, or if it was tougher, more experienced. She wondered how she’d feel tucked under one of his arms on the couch, the way she had been with Lucas. She wondered if she’d feel stuffy and hot, or comfortable, safe.

“Max,” Steve’s voice snapped her out of it, and she felt her face flood with heat. She darted her eyes around the room, trying to look anywhere but him until she realized he’d address her.

“Huh?” She cleared her throat. “What?”

“Is your mom coming to get you?”

It took her a few moments to realize what he was asking, while her brain switched gears. She shook her head, taking another sip of punch. “Mmm, no. She’s at the party too. I’m going to skate home.”

“Uh, no you’re not.” Steve shook his head.

“What?”

“It’s a friggin’ blizzard outside, shit brains. I’ll give you a ride home.”

“I’ll be fine, asshole,” Max rolled her eyes, but her confidence waned as she glanced toward the blackness of the kitchen window. The corners of it were illuminated with a fresh dusting of snow. She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Whatever. When’s your curfew?” Steve asked.

Max stared back at the clock on the wall. “Half hour?”

Steve ran a hand through his mane. “Shit. Fine. Go grab Dustin, let’s go.”

With a huff of obstinance, Max tipped the rest of her punch into the sink and tossed her cup into the quickly-filling garbage can. She tried not to notice Nancy hadn’t moved from her close proximity to Steve. She tried not to notice the looks the older two were giving each other as she left the room. She tried not to notice the pang of jealousy she felt as she moved out of eye sight.

She thought of turning back, of peeking through the slats in the banister and catching a secret moment, but she thought better of it and made a mental note to tell El tomorrow. She gathered her bag of presents and peeled Dustin’s gaze from the television long enough to help him do the same. Her mind lingered on the teens in the kitchen, wondering if love got easier or harder the older she got.

Lucas kept his untrained eyes on the television, jamming buttons while his girlfriend and best friend made for the entry way to begrudgingly pull damp snowshoes on over wool socks. Max perched herself on the bottom step and yawned through the first boot. She glanced sideways to see the older teens entering from the kitchen. Steve pulled his jacket from the ground, wet spots still fresh and dark green against the emerald.

“You shit heads ready?” He grinned, too wide, too happy. So happy he winked at Max, who shot him furrowed eyebrows as a blushed response.

“What’s your deal?” Dustin scoffed, never one to let an uncharacteristically enthused expression go unnoticed.

“Nothing, shut up. Put your coat on.” Steve sighed, slamming down the front bill of Dustin’s cap.

Dustin huffed a response and struggled for his jacket.

Steve reached to the ground to find Max’s. The puff split down one side and was half hazardly duck taped together like her skateboard, and the entire thing looked ridiculous against the pristine image of Steve Harrington. He held it out for her to slip her arms into, and she did so, one after the other, her back up against his tall, strong front, their jackets puffed between them.

His fingers, now warm, brushed her neck upon her coat’s release, and she shuddered at the touch, immediately stepping out of his range. She grappled for her bag, and the skateboard propped against the wall and grumbled for them all to leave already.

“Bye, Mike! Thanks for Christmas! Bye, Nancy!” Dustin screeched throughout the house.

Nancy swatted at him, not unkindly. “Shhh, Holly’s sleeping.”

“Sorry,” Dustin grinned. “Merry Christmas, Nancy.”

“Merry Christmas, Dustin. Merry Christmas, Max.”

Max smiled and nodded. She lingered behind Dustin for a moment, waiting to hear the scramble of feet from the family room, but found no such luck. She sighed. Maybe being single for the holidays was just the icing on the cake from the shit year she’d had since July. Weird emotions struck her, tickled at her throat, and she shouldered past Dustin and into the cold.

Steve was right. A thick layer of white brightened the air, frosted her cheeks, tickled at her nose hairs. She blinked into the blanket, trying to decide the best coarse of action to keep her jeans dry. The lights from the garage glowed warm against the icy driveway. Already, Steve’s car was cast in a thin layer, windshield wiping in vain. The engine rolled from the cold.

His headlights exposed an odd patch of snow behind of the bushes at the front of the yard, packed like something had laid and almost attempted snow angels, though perhaps something had barreled through to destroy them. Amid the snow were twigs and berries.

Dustin forged ahead in a flurry of polyester, eager to get out of the snow and into the warmth of Steve’s car. With a groan, Max followed in his wake, hiking her skateboard up her hip to keep it dry. Dustin shouted shot gun, and the two of them collapsed into respective seats, breathless from the cold, stamping their boots onto the sideboard. Before Max closed her door, she noticed Nancy and Steve lingering in the doorway to the Wheeler’s home. Nancy’s fingers were wrapped around the lapel of his jacket. She fell back on flat feet from her tiptoes.

Max slammed the car door and fresh snow fell to the driveway outside. The window cleared, and they watched Steve sprint back to his car, entering the fray in gasps and laughter.

“What was that about?” Dustin asked.

“What?” Steve sighed. He swung an arm back to Max in the backseat to retrieve the scraper from beside her. “Be right back.”

“Don’t think you can avoid the subject, Steve!” Dustin yelled, but the car door was slammed in his face. He grumbled and turned back to Max. The smile on his impish features was too solemn, something Max had grown used to from all of the boys lately. “Sorry about Lucas.”

Max sighed, crossed her arms over her chest. “Who?”

Dustin cackled. “Ooh, that’s ice cold.”

To be continued...

[Author’s Notes: This is obviously still a work in progress, but I thought maybe posting it would get me excited to keep working on it. Obviously it’s far past Christmas, but we love the snowy 80s vibes. Also I’ve been loving theories of Max and Steve teaming up in season 4 (I mean, obvs we’ve seen them on set together). And I just remember, vividly, being a 16-year-old girl and having MASSIVE crushes on the older boys that I did plays with, or the ones that hung out with my friends’ older siblings, etc. Just playing around. I have some ideas of what will happen next. So maybe let me know if you’d care to read more? Thaaaaanks. xo]