Chapter Text
Summer evenings in Hawkins carry their own kind of magic.
There's something about the sweet, fresh scent of the air; the golden hue that everything takes on as the sun sets; the way that the cool breeze subdues the lingering heat.
That same breeze plays with El Hopper's hair as she walks; gentle enough that it doesn't upset the delicate curls she spent an hour on earlier today, but not enough that they don't slightly frizz up. When she notices this on the reflection of her phone after reaching Mike's house, it's right as she's about to knock on his front door.
Dammit, she thinks, and smooths the flyaways as best as she can. It doesn't do much.
The door opens suddenly, and it's him, and El feels herself blush, and shit, her hand's still on her hair. Awkwardly, she brings it back down to her side.
"Hey," grins Mike Wheeler. She doesn't know whether she should be infuriated or relieved that his gaze just barely sweeps over the outfit and hairstyle she spent so much time over before locking firmly on her eyes.
"How'd you know I was here?" she asks.
Mike shrugs and steps aside to let her in. "I guess I'm just a little psychic that way."
"He saw you through the kitchen window," comes Lucas's voice from the basement. El turns around to level Mike with a playful glare as they walk down the stairs.
"Psychic," she repeats drily. He just smiles that shit-eating grin of his in response.
"There's nothing I can do about non-believers," he replies.
All she can do is roll her eyes and fight her own smile, because Max is here too, watching them closely, and she just knows her friend is going to have something to say about how she looks today.
It's written all over her face, El thinks in dismay as she joins Max on the couch.
"Hi," she says. Max's expression is annoyingly smug.
"Nice outfit," she says. "And hair. And is that makeup?"
El glares daggers at her before turning quickly to glance at Lucas and Mike where they're setting up the TV for movie night. Neither of them give any indication of having heard Max, and El lets out a small sigh of relief. "Shut up," she tells her friend.
Max rolls her eyes up to the ceiling. "You're both so obvious that it's physically painful to watch."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," El mutters, but she knows that the blush on her cheeks gives her away. Before Max can comment on that, too, she decides to change the subject. "Do you know what movie we're watching today?"
"Probably a horror," Max replies, generously allowing the subject to change. "I think Will wanted to watch The Ring."
"What?" El says. "You all know I can't do horror."
"That's fine, El, if you get too scared you can always just cuddle up with Mi—" Max begins, but El slaps a hand over her mouth before she can finish.
"I swear to God," she says, as threateningly as she can manage, "if you don't shut up about that, I'll braid your veins."
Max looks unimpressed. Which figures, because, well, El isn't that intimidating.
The door to the basement opens and down the stairs plod Will and Dustin. Lucas and Mike both look up and nod at them, almost eerily in sync, and Dustin goes to join them where they're fiddling with the TV. Will, who has never much been one for electronics the way the other three are, makes his way over to El and Max instead.
"Hey," he says, and plops down next to Max. "What'd Max say to piss you off this time?"
El belatedly realizes that her hand is still over Max's mouth and drops it. "Don't worry about it. Are we really watching The Ring tonight? I told you guys no scary movies."
Lucas turns around and holds up the DVD in question. "Sorry, El. Majority rules."
"What the fuck," she seethes, but no one pays her any mind. Like she said, she isn't that intimidating.
But Mike turns around after a second and catches her eye. "You can sit with me if you get scared, El. I'll tell you when to close your eyes."
El valiantly tries to ignore not only Max and Will exchanging a look next to her, but also the butterflies in her stomach. "Thanks, Mike," she says softly.
He offers her a crooked smile. "What are friends for?" he says, before turning around again.
His words cut at her heart, but his smile floods her with warmth. Through it all, she manages to glare at Max and Will next to her. "Not a word."
Max makes an exaggerated motion of zipping her lips as Will shakes with silent laughter beside her. And, you know, it would bother El less if they weren't so right.
Because here's the thing.
El likes Mike. And she has for a while. And sometimes it feels like everyone in the entire world except him knows.
She watches, almost in a daze, as he gets up from in front of the TV, it finally being set up, and walks over to the blanket fort at the corner of the basement. That's where they keep all the blankets and pillows for movie night. Sometime in the last five minutes, Dustin went upstairs, and has just returned with his arms full of snacks. He sets them down on the coffee table and claims his regular spot next to Will on the floor. Max has gravitated to the lone armchair, and Lucas has settled down at the foot of it, his head in her lap. Which leaves El by herself on the couch, nerves aflame in anticipation of Mike joining her.
He emerges from the fort, arms loaded with blankets and pillows, and walks over to Will and Dustin first. They reach up and claim theirs, before Mike makes his way to Lucas and Max. Lucas flicks off the lamp as Mike drops the remaining blanket by El on the couch. Someone presses play and the movie starts, but El isn't paying attention to that.
She feels rather than sees Mike settle in to the left of her; the cushion dips a bit with his weight and the blanket shifts as he pulls it over himself. His arm moves to slip behind her, hand coming to rest on her right shoulder.
"Hey," he whispers, head ducking a bit so that his mouth is next to her ear. El tries not to shiver.
"Hey," she responds softly.
When he gently pulls her closer, so that there's no space between them anymore and her head can fall onto his shoulder, she silently thanks whatever powers that may be that it's too dark for him to notice her blush.
His proximity is somehow familiar and comforting while also setting her heart alight. Being this close to him sends her mind into a whirlwind. Fragments of thoughts zip frantically around, her mind malfunctioning at the feeling of his hair tickling her ear, the way she can feel his torso rise and fall with each breath, his fingers absently tracing unknown shapes on her shoulder.
It's so easy to melt into him. It's so easy to pretend right now that his arm around her isn't just him being an affectionate friend. That he's more than just her best friend since childhood. So easy to imagine that he sees her as more than that. No, in this quiet, dark moment, Mike can be more. They can be more.