Archive of Our Own ^beta

Standing under the scorching sunlight, Mike wished for death.

Well, okay. Not death. That was a little extreme and overdramatic, even for him. But a coma? Or one of those “eternal” naps where he was woken up by a kiss from his true love?

Mike would kill for one of those.

A (hopefully) long nap, capped off by a kiss from Will?

Mike couldn’t imagine anything better.

Next to him, Mike heard Jonas and Maia chattering away as they filed out of the car, interrupted only by the sharp sound of car doors slamming as his family emerged into the parking lot.

“Mike?” Will spoke up from his right, gaining his husband’s attention. “I really think you should reconsider on the sunblock.”

Mike huffed, causing Will to snicker. The younger man reached into a side pocket on his backpack and extracted the bottle of sunblock. He held it out to his husband, offering.

Mike very deliberately sniffed haughtily and turned away.

He heard the cleric sigh behind him.

“Babe, it smells bad,” Mike told him, turning back, trying to explain the reason for his abstention. “It’s…unpleasant.”

“Do you know what else is unpleasant?” Will asked, placing a hand on Mike's shoulder and leaning close to him conspiratorially like he was sharing a particularly ripe piece of gossip. “Hearing you whine about how much your skin hurts after you burn yourself for the sixth year in a row.”

Mike scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. Honestly, the things the younger man came up with.

“That’s not going to happen,” Mike claimed, forgetting that he had, in fact, made the same assertion last year (and every year preceding), only to be proven wrong each time. The pain bestowed on Mike each summer was a reminder, though whether it was of Mike’s own stubbornness or of the supremacy of nature over humanity, no one was quite sure.

"Your overconfidence is your weakness," Will replied, shaking his head in defeat at Mike's continued defiance. His expression appeared mournful, before shifting into a smirk. "As usual."

"I think the heat might be getting to you, Sir William," Mike retorted, raising a hand in faux concern to Will's forehead. "Your brain's all scrambled." Mike paused to flash Will a mischievous smile. "Not much there to scramble to start with, but-"

Will lifted his water bottle, brandishing it threateningly, his nefarious intentions plain.

Not wanting to be doused, Mike raised his hands in surrender.

"I'll take some, Dad," Jonas called out from behind them, referring to the sunblock, interrupting the couple's staredown.

"Me too!" Maia piped up from where she stood next to him.

"Very smart," Will commented, smiling and tossing Jonas the bottle. "I'm grateful to know the two of you possess common sense. You got that from my side of the family."

"That doesn't even-" Mike started, mock glaring at his husband. He cut off when he heard his children snickering and shook his head. "Whatever."

The paladin marched determinedly ahead of them, holding his head high, seemingly indifferent to his family’s continued amusement at his expense.

Mike led the procession toward the park entrance, his face lighting up when he spotted the colorful banner that welcomed them:

ALL FRIENDS WELCOME!

“Don’t worry, guys, that includes us,” Mike said soothingly, alleviating whatever concerns they might have had, though there had been none.

They were greeted almost immediately by a smiling, college-aged girl wearing a shirt that denoted her as a volunteer.

“Hi!” she said, her tone infused with excitement that would have been contagious, if they hadn’t already possessed their own. She presented them with an array of different flags. “Would you like one?”

“Yes, I would!” Mike said back cheerfully, and the woman blinked, startled by his enthusiasm before her smile widened, maintaining it as Mike and Will each took a generic rainbow flag.

Mike wrapped his own around his shoulders, wearing it like a cape.

“Come, family!” he turned and shouted back to them in an aristocratic drawl. “We must make haste!”

“We just got here,” Maia muttered resignedly, making Will snicker as he affixed his flag to himself, copying Mike.

With the rest of the family hurrying after him, Mike led the group to where most of the other people had gathered: at a collection of vendor booths that sold a variety of items. One stall sold pins, ribbons, and stickers. Another boasted t-shirts, each emblazoned with words or designs, most identifying the wearer as a particular sexual orientation or gender identity. At one table, you could pay to get your face painted, and a line of kids was already winding around as they all waited anxiously for their turns.

And there was more. Much more.

The city always went all out for Pride, which was a source of civic pride for their whole family.

Mike bypassed all this and went straight for the food.

His family caught up with him while he inspected a menu.

“I’m hungry,” Mike told them when they joined him, continuing to weigh his options. “But not that hungry. Do you think they sell fruit here or is that a little too on the nose?”

Jonas huffed a laugh while Will and Maia rolled their eyes.

The older man eventually did find fruit on the menu.

Sort of.

“Oh, wow, babe, would you look at that?” Mike spoke up, glancing back at Will, looking smug. “They serve Hawaiian pizza here.”

Jonas and Maia smirked at each other knowingly, while Will sighed.

“Mike,” the cleric said, taking his husband by the shoulders and looking him in the eye. “I have told you a thousand times that gay people aren’t going to Hell.” Here, he stopped to gesture at the menu before continuing. “So why would you want to do the one thing that changes that?”

This sent Jonas and Maia cackling while Mike stared at his husband, offended.

“Babe!” he whined to an unmoved Will. “It’s a delicacy!”

“It’s really not,” Will countered as he studied the menu for a worthy alternative. He found one. “Get a goddamn corn dog.”

“So domineering,” Mike muttered under his breath, in a voice he thought was too low to be heard. “You know, I bet they’re just serving these because of the suggestive imagery.”

“Mike!” Will scolded him, glancing around and jerking his head toward the children.

“Oh relax,” Mike assured him, rolling his eyes. “Jonas is fourteen. That’s the same age as when they teach that stuff in Health class, right?”

Will nodded reluctantly, agreeing.

“It is,” Jonas confirmed, piping up from behind them.

When they reached the front of the queue, both men ordered and received corn dogs, while Jonas and Maia only got drinks, water and raspberry tea respectively.

Refreshments acquired, the clan returned to the vendor stalls, gazing with interest as they snacked.

They came across one booth that was solely selling different shades of nail polish, and the family stopped to peruse the stock.

Will glanced up, smiling at the teenager manning the booth and seeing the boy’s rainbow-colored fingernails, Will felt his mind floating, the sound of the live band on the stage at the park’s center slowly fading away.

“Lucas, if you put that tape in, I swear to God, I will shove it up your ass!”

From where he sat on the basement couch next to Mike, Will snickered and glanced over at Dustin, the source of this latest proclamation.

The bard sat on the floor, glaring at Lucas, who, hearing this threat, paused in picking up the cassette case for Poltergeist. His head had swiveled around to stare at Dustin, his expression one of incredulity that was undercut by the laughter dancing in his eyes.

“I’m already a puppet for Max,” Lucas informed him, his face splitting into a grin, jerking his head in the direction of his girlfriend. “Your hand literally being up my ass will do nothing to change that.”

“What was that?” Max asked, pausing in her conversation with El, fighting to keep a smile off her own face so that she could look appropriately stern and intimidating. She had heard him, of course, but was being nice and giving her boyfriend a chance to take back what he had said.

Which he did.

Kind of.

“I said,” Lucas insisted, turning properly to look at the amused girl, “that I love you.”

Max scoffed.

Lucas left his position in front of the TV and scooted closer to her, taking one of her hands and kissing it, like a prince from a fairytale.

An illusion that was ruined once his “princess” used said hand to flip him off.

Fortunately, that sent both of them into hysterics, a fact that the rest of the room found irritating/adorable.

Dustin huffed and rolled his eyes. He sent Will a look that suggested he thought Lucas and Max belonged together…in a psych ward. Preferably isolated from others for the safety of the wider population.

Will raised his eyebrows in a “what did you expect?” expression, before returning his gaze to Mike, who was trying in vain to convince them all to watch E.T.

“It’s a classic!” Mike argued, annoyed that this was even a discussion. Really, they were in his basement, and normally, that would be enough for Mike to try to force an executive decision with his non-existent power as Party leader (a power that meant literally nothing beyond his house being the gathering spot for all their exciting escapades), but Will disagreeing with him took the wind right out of his sails.

This, Will knew, was why Mike usually just did what he wanted. It made things easier and he avoided being blindsided by such blatant betrayal.

“We’ve seen it a million times!” Lucas countered, throwing up his hands. He did like E.T. but there were only so many times a guy could watch a film, even one crafted by Spielberg. “Hell, we’ve lived it, Mike!”

Here, everyone’s gazes shifted to El, who had taken up position on the other side of the couch, sitting on her sleeping bag near Dustin. Her eyes were focused on her hands, studying her electric green fingernails, which were due for a touch-up, judging by the numerous places in which the paint had chipped.

Sensing the weight of their gazes, El looked up at them, blinking in surprise.

“What?” she asked, having evidently not heard a word of their argument. She reached behind her ear and tugged on one of her curls nervously, as she usually did when she was the center of attention. She had experimented with a couple of hairstyles, before eventually cutting it and letting it regrow into the curly mop it had been during her imprisonment (that was the word Will used, though he knew El herself was far too kind to call it that except in momentary anger) in Hopper’s cabin. El, perhaps for sentiment if nothing else, elected to make the look her new signature hairstyle. The price she paid for her decision, mostly ridicule from the other girls at school for her “boyish” haircut, did little to dissuade her, especially with the rest of the Party there to support her choice. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention because I didn’t care about what you were saying.”

Will snorted, an action that was copied by Dustin and Max.

El could make small talk for a while. Her speech had grown smoother and more natural with the introduction of grammar contractions, thanks to Dustin. Getting to experience Star Wars (something Dustin viewed as just as essential as the language lessons) ensured she had at least one common interest with the rest of the Party. But if a conversation really bored her, she had no hesitation in letting them know.

Such as right now.

“Don’t worry,” Max assured her. She was smirking, indicating that she was scheming something. The extent of her plot was revealed in her next words. “Lucas just compared you to an alien.”

Lucas opened his mouth to protest but froze. El’s head had whipped around to fix the ranger with a steely expression.

A second later, Lucas’ soda had “mysteriously” tipped and spilled onto his lap.

“Jesus!” Lucas shouted exasperatedly, shooting to his feet. Around him, the Party members (minus El, whose arms were crossed and who looked smug) had erupted into cackles. Catching himself after a few moments, Will looked around and caught Mike’s eye, which only caused them both to break into peals of laughter again.

“That’s quite the sticky situation you’re in, Lucas!” Mike called out, mostly recovering. A few chuckles were still leaking out though.

Mike appeared to be stubbornly ignoring the swat his latest pun had earned him from his boyfriend, as well as the consequential chorus of groans that emitted from his other friends.

“Well,” Lucas said, sighing as he observed the way his drink had soaked through his shorts. Sugary droplets were now running in rivulets down his legs. “I’m gonna go…take a bath, I guess.”

“You’re taking a bath?” Dustin asked, his tone amused. He was gazing skeptically at Lucas, eyebrows raised. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” Lucas informed him haughtily. His annoyed scowl was still present. “Might bring a razor blade in there with me. Still trying to decide.”

“You know that’s actually really hard to do, right?” Max enlightened him, rolling her eyes at his dramatics. “Your arteries are really deep, so-”

“Don't underestimate the Force,” Lucas interrupted, his voice grave, a smirk dancing on his lips now, ending his statement by bopping the girl on the nose.

“Oh, go soak your head,” Max shot back, smirking. Her eyes strayed to Lucas' legs and her smile widened. "Or just your legs, I guess."

Max continued to heckle him as Lucas ascended the stairs, during which he only paused once to notify Mike that he was borrowing a pair of shorts.

"Wow," Dustin commented once a grumbling Lucas had disappeared. He sent Max a teasing grin. "Exchanging clothes? You guys know what that means. You might have competition, Mayfield."

"What competition?" Max drawled out after pointedly examining Mike. She didn't seem worried.

Neither was Will, although he might have been, once upon a time.

"Lucas is a great guy," Mike acknowledged, nodding. "But I'd still be trading down."

"Aww," Dustin said, smirking when he saw the resultant blush from Mike's declaration coloring Will's cheeks. Dustin sat back on the couch. He snorted when another thought occurred to him. "And he's straight. There's also that."

Mike and Will glanced sideways at each other with secret smiles. Lucas may not believe in gaydar, but Mike and Will both certainly did.

They both sensed something in Lucas and Mike was convinced that the other boy was in denial.

Mike would know. He didn't mean to brag, but he was sort of an expert with that.

They weren't going to force the issue though.

It was too dangerous. It wasn't the right place.

Not in Hawkins.

"How about we watch Back to the Future?" Dustin suggested hopefully, leaning forward eagerly.

"How about we don't?" Max countered, her tone scathing. "Could we please watch a damn horror movie?" she stopped to shoot Will a significant look. "Will, back me up here."

"I do like watching people suffer," Will said with mock seriousness, tilting his head as though considering.

“Is that so?” Max replied, fighting back a snicker at his response. “In that case, you should tag along with Lucas and I the next time he takes us stargazing.”

“Stargazing is romantic though,” Dustin argued and Will and Mike nodded in agreement. One of their recent dates had involved a moonlit meander around the outskirts of Hawkins, with no chaperone but the silent stars.

“It probably would be,” Max allowed, nodding. Her focus had left them and was on her arm, where her fingers fiddled with the hairband around her wrist. Max was always incapable of giving anything her entire attention for very long and, in fact, seemed to focus better when her hands were occupied. “But Lucas always prattles on with the astronomy facts. And then I have to kiss him just to shut him up.”

“I bet he just hates that,” Will speculated sarcastically, earning a snort from Mike and a playful glare from Max.

“Don’t rag on him for his interests, Madmax,” Dustin proposed pompously with an exaggerated posh accent. “We need to support each others’ passions. Such as my passion to watch Back to the Future.”

Will and Mike both groaned simultaneously while Max shot Dustin a dirty look, biting her lip like she was considering the best way to get away with murder. Said lip then twitched into a mocking smile.

“Sorry, Dustybun,” she said, not sounding remotely apologetic. Her form of address earned her a glare from Dustin, but she plowed on regardless. “That conflicts with my passion to crush peoples’ hopes and dreams.”

“I knew it,” Mike stage-whispered to Will, resulting in the two of them breaking into giggles. That quickly ended when they were forced to jump apart so that Mike could dodge the soda can that Max had launched at his head.

Dustin continued to argue his case and Max kept shutting him down, both ignoring Mike, who was sputtering about being “assaulted” in his own basement.

“Here’s an idea!” Max presented after Dustin had exhausted all avenues of persuasion. She spread her arms wide, imitating a ringleader at a circus. “What if we don’t watch a movie?”

Everyone stared at her, flabbergasted. Even El.

“But,” Mike spoke up, his tone quizzical. “We always watch a movie.”

“So what?” Max went on, her face scrunching in confusion. “It’s not like it's a rule that we have to.”

The shared look on her companions’ faces communicated their disagreement.

“What else would we do?” Will asked, his tone hesitant.

Max thought for a moment before her eyes lit up.

“I know!” she announced enthusiastically. She gestured between El and herself. “What if you boys put on another fashion show for us?”

El suddenly looked excited and she exchanged glances with Max.

Their happiness was short-lived.

“No,” Dustin said firmly, shaking his head rapidly. “That is never happening again.”

“Oh, come on!” Max insisted and when Dustin still appeared resolute, she turned toward Mike and Will. “Guys?”

“Of course she turns to the gays,” Will muttered, smirking, causing Mike to snicker. Unfortunately for Max, that wasn’t going to be enough. “Sorry, Max. Not interested.”

“Me neither,” Mike piped up. Will knew Mike’s decision was something he considered a win-win. Not only was he agreeing with Will, but it was also an opportunity to shoot down Max.

Max shot Mike an irritated look, seeming to read the boy’s thoughts.

With her proposal defeated, Max looked around, now as unsure of what to do as everyone else.

Until El spoke.

“Nails,” she said softly, waving her hand to get Max’s attention. She held up said hand, revealing the many places where the polish had been nicked. She gestured to Max and then herself. “We should paint our nails.”

Max nodded and began moving toward her bag, where she kept a few vials of different colored polishes for occasions like this. She stopped suddenly and spun back toward the group, now beaming.

“That’s a great idea, El!” she praised her. She paused dramatically before delivering her amendment. “In fact, why don’t we all join in?”

Dustin paled and began stammering.

“N-no, that’s-” the boy stuttered, struggling to come up with an excuse. “I…you know, I really should get home. I was planning on…rearranging my sock drawer.”

“Your socks can wait,” Will interrupted, smirking when Dustin shot him a glare for “helping.” Will glanced over at Mike and found the other boy looking conflicted. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he nudged Mike’s shoulder. “Come on. I’ve done it before. It’s fine. And…no one’s going to make fun of you.”

They held each other’s gaze for a few seconds before Mike’s face broke out into a smile and he nodded.

“We’re in,” Will told Max, gesturing to Mike and himself.

“Yes!” she cheered from where she knelt as she dug through her bag. “I should have enough colors in here.”

“You got any black in there?” Dustin questioned her. He had resigned himself to this activity but was still reluctant.

Max scoffed as she set all the colors she had in a row on the coffee table.

“Dustin, you are not wearing black,” she decreed, shaking her head exasperatedly. “Don’t be that guy.”

“I want to look like a rock star!” the boy protested, causing everyone else to snort.

“Well, here,” Mike replied, leaning forward and plucking up a vial of murky green polish. “You like rocks? Here. Green. Like the earth. Best rock of all.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin whispered, holding back a smile as he took the bottle from an unrepentant Mike. The bard inspected the contents before shrugging. “I guess this is pretty close to black.”

Will had bent down in front of the table to examine the options, eventually choosing a sunflower yellow.

Mike raised his eyebrows in question and Will elaborated.

“I’m feeling sunny and cheerful,” he said, deadpan and straight-faced, causing Mike to cover his mouth to prevent chuckling. Will rejoined the other boy on the couch and looked inquisitively at him. “What about you?”

“How about blue?” Max interjected, speaking to Mike. She was holding up a bottle and moved so that it was right in front of his eyes. “It’ll match the bruise I’ll give you if you don’t pick something soon.”

Mike snatched it from her, scowling.

Will had already started painting his own fingers, humming softly as he did. He had always liked the color yellow. It was his mom’s preferred color (not that she wore polish often. She was a nail biter) and it was the first color he had tried when he had asked her help in painting his own years ago.

Not that he’d been able to wear it for long.

His father had made sure of that.

Will looked up to check on Mike’s progress and found the other boy struggling. Mike’s hands were shaking and he was handling the minuscule brush clumsily.

Will reached across and placed his unpainted hand on Mike’s shoulder, drawing said boy’s attention.

“Do you want me to do it?” Will inquired gently.

Mike blushed, looking embarrassed and Will jerked his head in Dustin’s direction, who had enlisted El’s help in coloring his own cuticles.

The sight seemed to reassure Mike and he nodded gratefully, closing the bottle and waiting for Will to finish.

It was good that he had elected to go this route, or the footsteps thundering down the stairs would have startled Mike into spilling the vial, and then Max would have killed him.

Lucas reappeared at the base of the stairs, now sporting a pair of Mike's navy shorts.

"I have returned," he shouted animatedly, spreading his arms and finishing the pose with jazz hands, behavior reminiscent of his girlfriend.

"Welcome, young Sinclair," Dustin replied in the raspy tone of the Emperor.

Lucas made to respond but then stopped to take in the sight of Max coating her nails with electric green. His eyes moved to El, who was calmly helping Dustin, ignoring his fidgeting.

"What's…going on here?" Lucas asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the multicolored vials dotting the surface of the coffee table.

"We're throwing off the manacles of traditional masculinity," Will informed the other boy. "Join the rebellion."

Lucas snorted in amusement as he moved to glance over the table. He quickly selected a muted burgundy and began applying it to his own nails. At the sudden silence, he lifted his head and saw them all staring at him. He smirked at them and nodded in Max's direction.

"Not my first time," he revealed, before returning to his task. Unlike Mike's, Lucas' movements were careful, his hands steady.

For the next few minutes, there was only the sound of breathing as each of them focused on their artistic enterprises. The sharp chemical odor of nail polish filled the room, causing Max, being the first to finish, to temporarily leave her position to open the basement door.

"Still better than the usual Mike stink," she quipped upon her return, meeting the paladin's glare, unabashed.

Dustin took longer, eventually switching places with El, who chose a royal purple.

Before long, Will was holding one of Mike's hands in his, using the other to unscrew the top on a vial of sparkling blue.

Mike sucked in a breath when he felt the cool liquid on his hands, which Will put on with smooth, delicate brushstrokes.

Mike glanced away, as though unwilling to look at Will while he was working. Will noticed and frowned at him, using a foot to nudge his leg.

“You good?” he asked, concerned. He knew what Mike could be like when he retreated too far into his own head.

“Oh…yeah,” Mike replied after a few moments. “Just…feels weird, you know?”

Will nodded, accepting the answer. For now. It was obvious that wasn’t all that was plaguing his boyfriend, but they could talk about whatever that was later.

After they all had a thrilling time literally watching paint dry, each Party member assessed their work with critical eyes.

“Impressive handiwork, Sir William,” Mike noted, not seeing his friends grimace as he was studying his fingers with an odd expression. He smiled, softly at first, before it spread into a happy grin. He gave a delighted giggle, drawing the others’ attention and making Mike blush. “I just…like this. I think.”

“Good,” Will answered, grinning himself at Mike’s ecstatic expression. “It suits you.”

“Nice hand job,” Max commented, nodding to Lucas, smirking when her joke caused everyone to roll their eyes…except El’s. She looked curious and seeing it, Max winced. She really hoped the other girl wouldn’t ask her dad about it. That was a phrase that the chief probably hadn’t planned on including in their daily lessons and Max had no desire to get a visit from the man, particularly when he was on duty, since that’s when he carried his sidearm.

“Well, I consider this a success,” Dustin declared finally, flashing his own verdant nails.

“Same,” Lucas agreed, nodding as he turned his own hand, analyzing the fruits of his labor from multiple directions.

“I, as usual, did amazing,” Max said, showing off her own nails. She glanced at Mike and her eyes brightened at seeing his nails. She gave Will a respectful nod. “As did you. His look good. Probably the only decent thing about him.”

Mike responded by forcefully returning the soda can she had gifted him earlier.

“Alright,” Lucas spoke up. “It reeks in here. We gotta go somewhere else.”

“Nowhere public,” Mike said quickly, blushing when everyone’s eyes snapped to him. He bit his lip, nervous. “I just…you know?”

“No, you’re right,” Dustin said quietly. “Somewhere else. Will, could we go to your place?”

“Mom’s working,” Will told them all, shaking his head. “So is Jonathan.”

“What about my house?” Dustin suggested after a few moments. He looked around and saw that they were considering it. “My mom made cookies.”

That revelation proved to be adequate persuasion.

“Your mom’s cookies are amazing,” Max muttered to Dustin as she assisted everyone in cleaning up all traces of their visit.

“A…culinary queen,” El added, looking pleased when her vocabulary choice made Dustin look over and flash her a thumbs up. Evidently, “culinary” was a word he had taught her.

“True,” Lucas grunted as he helped Max gather her various vials of nail polish and returned them to her bag.

“We need snacks,” Dustin stated, addressing Mike. “Does your mom still have any of those pudding cups?”

“I thought we were having cookies,” Mike pointed out, sounding amused.

Dustin waved off that obstacle.

“They’re for later!” the bard claimed. “Or we can have them with the cookies! Make pudding sandwiches!”

“I’m going to regret asking this,” Lucas started as they all began climbing the stairs, Mike and Will leading the way. “But what the hell is a ‘pudding sandwich’?

“It’s two cookies,” Dustin explained, his hands gesturing wildly, indicating how passionate he felt about the subject matter. “You put a dollop of pudding in between. Make a sandwich.”

“That’s disgusting,” Max called from the back of the group.

“I’ll try it,” El piped up, tone curious.

“Thank you!” Dustin exclaimed, twisting around to shoot El a grin. “It’s a delicacy!”

Max argued with Dustin over the legitimacy of that statement while they made their way into the Wheeler kitchen.

Holly was sitting at the table as they all came in, drawing, and she gave a big smile as she looked up and spotted them, her eyes zeroing in on her brother.

“Mikey!” she yelled, waving. “Hi!”

Mike’s eyes lit up with mischief and he darted to the table, turning around and letting his sister climb on his back to give her a piggyback ride. Once she was secure, he began racing, moving into the living room and doing laps around the space, resulting in shrieking laughter from the young girl.

“Let’s go, Hollycopter!” Mike shouted over her giggling. Unlike his friends, his sister didn’t scold him for his proclivity for puns. She just went with it and began making sounds like an engine.

While Mike was occupied, Will and Dustin collected the pudding from the pantry, while Lucas and Max inspected Holly’s half-formed drawing and quietly debated over what exactly it was. El, having been slightly separated from the others, came up behind the pair.

“It’s Holly playing with a cat,” El informed them, her sudden appearance causing them to jump. She ignored it. “She probably wants to get a cat.”

“How do you know?” Lucas asked, turning back and eying the picture skeptically.

El didn’t speak for a moment, seeming content to observe Holly’s work along with them.

“I wanted a cat too,” she said eventually, her eyes still aimed at the table but not seeing it. “Papa got me one. But…we had…different ideas on…what taking care of it meant.”

Behind her, Max and Lucas exchanged concerned glances. Lucas extended a hand to place it on El’s shoulder, but stopped when he saw Max give him a warning look.

The zoomer placed her hand on the table, ensuring El saw it, before forming a fist and knocking on the table.

The noise brought El back to the present and she blinked, the fog in her eyes clearing. She turned to face them, looking sheepish.

“Sorry,” she muttered, biting her lip.

“Mage, no,” Max insisted, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about it. Wanna talk?”

“Later,” El murmured before moving to join Will and Dustin, offering her aid in carrying snacks.

Spotting her approach, Dustin offered her a grin.

“You’re gonna love this, El,” Dustin insisted. “Pudding sandwiches! You’ll forget all about Eggos!”

“Don’t push it,” El threatened, but she couldn't keep an amused smile off her face while she helped the boys load pudding cups into Dustin’s backpack.

“Mike, let’s go!” Will called out, having finished with their assignment.

Mike brought a cackling Holly back into the kitchen and waited for her to gather herself before gently depositing her back into her chair.

“Ride’s over,” Mike told her, ruffling her hair. As he brought his hand back down to his side, she spotted his newly painted nails.

“Pretty!” Holly remarked excitedly, her eyes following his hand.

Mike blushed and scratched the back of his head nervously.

“Uh,” he stammered. Will could tell the other boy obviously hadn’t planned for anyone in his family to see his nails. “Thanks.”

He led the rest of his friends outside, the others waving goodbye to Holly as they walked out.

Straddling his bike, Mike glanced over and smiled when he spotted Will on his bike next to him, right where he usually was.

“Nice job on the nails,” he told him, wiggling his fingers. “Apparently, they’re pretty.”

“Of course they are,” Will said, snorting. “I did them.”

“So modest,” Mike shot back teasingly, causing the cleric to snicker. “So, you ready to try a pudding sandwich?”

“Of course,” Will replied. “I’ve heard it’s a delicacy. Bigger than Eggos.”

“It is!” Dustin maintained, shouting to be heard as they began to peddle. “I promise!”

“Keep going!” El yelled from the back of the procession, keeping pace with Max, the two girls biking alongside each other. Hopper had eventually purchased El her own bicycle and taught her how to use it. Learning to ride so quickly was a source of pride for her. “I’ll take one bite and spit it in your hair!”

“You wouldn’t!” Dustin cried out as the rest of them cackled at the exchange. Their laughter increased when he reached up a hand to brush his head. “This takes forever to comb!”

“You comb it?” Lucas questioned, sounding doubtful. “I didn’t notice!”

“Laugh all you want!” Dustin said, and they took him up on the offer. “But you’re all going to love these pudding sandwiches, okay? I’m leading you all on a curiosity voyage!”

“Well then,” Mike spoke up, exchanging grins with Will. The other boy read his thoughts and they both slowed down, allowing Dustin to pull ahead of them. “Lead the way, captain!”

“Will,” Mike’s voice pulled him back and Will was forcefully ejected from the past as his consciousness was shoved back into his body. “Do you copy?”

Blinking as his ears were barraged with a myriad of sounds, it took Will a moment to process the statement and when he did, he snorted and gave Mike a look.

“Yes, Mike,” he answered, chuckling at the old, familiar phrase. “I copy. Over.”

“Where’d you fly away to?” Mike asked, amused, already knowing what had happened. He was used to this. They both were. They had come to expect this behavior from each other.

“Your basement,” Will replied, and at the sight of Mike rolling his eyes (it was a vague description. A lot of memories took place there), narrowed it down. “The first time we all painted our nails together.”

“Oh,” Mike breathed, reminiscing. His eyes became glassy for a few seconds before he pulled himself from his recollection. He chuckled slightly at the memory. “That was a good day.”

“It was,” Will agreed, his eyes scanning the area. He frowned when he didn’t spot his children. “Where are Jonas and Maia?”

Mike blinked and looked around, as though noticing their absence for the first time.

“I, uh,” Mike stammered, blushing when he met Will’s eyes and saw the other man was holding in a laugh. “I don’t know.” He quickly rushed to ease any worries. “It’s a small park though. I’m sure they’re fine.”

“I know they are,” Will affirmed, shaking his head as a few snickers slipped past his lips. “I just…clearly, I wasn’t the only one lost in thought.”

“Give me a break!” Mike protested, laughing. “I was looking at the pins!”

“You are forgiven,” Will retorted, giving his husband a regal nod. “Some of those pins look really cool. And now, I want to go browse the t-shirts.”

Will drifted away and Mike went to see where the ever-roaming wayfarers who were their children had gotten off to.

Having a hunch about where his youngest might be, Mike walked toward the entrance, smirking when he saw his theory had proven to be correct.

Maia was kneeling down on the paved pathway that started at the gate and circled around the entire park. She had gotten a hold of some chalk and was now using each piece to create a grand rainbow that could then greet each visitor as they entered.

He wandered over and drew close to her, watching his step so as not to smudge her work.

“I appreciate that we didn’t have to suffer through rain to get such a pretty rainbow,” Mike observed, smiling when his compliment made her blush. Mike grinned as he continued. “I’d say you passed with flying colors.”

Maia giggled, dropping her chalk as she brought her fist to her mouth to stave off another laugh, dusting her lips with powder. She winced when she felt the sandy substance on her face. Seeing her struggle, Mike handed her a tissue that he wet with his water bottle. She accepted the gift and made quick work of cleaning her face.

“Where’s your brother?” Mike asked her once he saw that she could speak again.

“Over there, I think,” she replied, gesturing back the way they had come, toward the vendors.

Following her tip, Mike left his daughter to her artistic ambitions and scanned the booths for Jonas, taking the opportunity to re-examine some of the products that had initially procured his interest.

It didn’t take Mike long to achieve his objective.

He found the fourteen-year-old investigating the nail polish selection, already holding a few colors.

“Jonas!” Mike greeted him, drawing up to his side.

His son jumped and Mike instantly felt guilty.

Before he could apologize, Jonas spoke up.

“Dad!” he exclaimed, expression torn between surprise and… embarrassment? “I didn’t see you.”

“Clearly,” Mike noted dryly, making Jonas huff a laugh. “You buying some new colors?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jonas nodded his head rapidly and Mike was too busy studying his son’s face, trying to decipher the reason behind the boy’s unusually nervous demeanor, to notice that Jonas had moved his hand to obscure the colors he had chosen from Mike’s view.

Deciding to ignore said odd behavior (for now), Mike became focused on surveying the wares being offered.

He paused upon coming across a sparkling blue and his eyes darted down to his own nails.

It was almost a perfect match.

Glancing to his right, he spotted Jonas looking in another section.

Picking up the vial, Mike held it close to his eyes.

As Mike stared into the liquid that looked strangely like crushed sapphire, the way the sunlight caught the glass capsule seemed to make the container glow, and Mike became mesmerized by the bottle’s sudden hypnotic power, losing touch with his surroundings as his mental awareness fell backward into a memory.

“You look like a Jackson Pollock painting.”

Will huffed at his husband’s comment and sent the smirking man a half-hearted glare.

“You know,” he said dryly. “When you said you were learning about different artists so I could talk more about my work with you, I didn’t expect you to use that knowledge to make fun of me.”

Mike snickered.

“Knowledge is power,” the older man reminded Will. “And I’ll use my power the way I see fit.”

“Like a tyrant,” Will noted, trying not to laugh. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Mike scoffed and he shook his head, grinning.

“You sound like Maia after I told her she couldn’t have ice cream before bed,” Mike observed, chuckling. “Now I know who taught her what ‘despotic’ meant.”

“She came up with the idea of writing the letter though,” Will told him, snickering at the memory from a few weeks ago. “I just helped her with the phrasing.”

“Was it also your idea to have her stick the note to my office door like she was Martin Luther?” Mike inquired, snickering himself now as he remembered his initial confusion when he had spotted the missive while leaving his office.

“That was actually Jonas’ idea,” Will revealed, his laughter now taking on a more raucous quality. “He said to put it somewhere you’d see it.”

Mike threw up his hands.

“Does my entire family think I’m a dictator?” Mike asked, sounding both exasperated and amused. “Sue me for not liking the idea of a sugar-high nine-year-old bouncing off the walls right at bedtime.”

“We didn’t either,” Will said, moving to take one of Mike’s hands and bringing it to his lips to kiss. “We just thought it was funny.”

Mike continued to grumble under his breath, so Will distracted him by wiping the back of his hand on the other man’s nose, leaving a streak of magenta paint behind.

“My nose has paint on it, doesn’t it?” Mike huffed, smiling knowingly and snorting when Will tried to look innocent.

“You look better that way,” Will imparted, grinning when he was forced to duck to avoid Mike whacking him in the back of the head.

“Likewise,” Mike replied, nodding at Will’s appearance. Buying the painting smock was obviously a wise choice, judging from the multicolored splatters now decorating his husband’s torso. “What, did you bathe in it?’

“No,” Will responded, rolling his eyes and laughing. He inspected his arms, in disbelief himself. How the hell had he managed to get so much on him? “Pretty sure I got more paint on myself than the easel.”

“You should probably shower,” Mike suggested helpfully, smirking. “With water, this time.”

Will flipped him off.

He obviously thought the idea had merit though, because he soon disappeared and Mike snorted when he heard the sound of the bath running upstairs.

Mike settled onto the living room couch, wincing at his aching joints. This whole “getting old” thing was so annoying. Surely, with all this modern technology, a cure for that could be worked out.

Mike was pulled from his ruminations by the sound of an oddly nervous voice.

“Dad?”

Mike’s gaze, which had been distant, focused on the opposite wall, turned to find his eleven-year-old son lingering in the doorway.

“Jojo!” Mike greeted him, grinning as usual when his son rolled his eyes fondly at the nickname. “Hello there! What can I do for you?” His smile faltered when the question seemed to make Jonas anxious. Mike furrowed his brow and spoke more seriously. “Is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jonas answered in a voice that did not convince his father at all.

“Come on,” Mike said gently, scooting over and tapping the spot on the sofa next to him. “Come sit.”

Jonas hesitated before he stepped cautiously into the room, not making eye contact with Mike as he took a seat beside him.

Mike paused, thinking, before placing a hand on his son’s shoulder. The action caused said son to look up at him.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” Mike prodded, scanning his face searchingly. It made Jonas squirm and so he quickly stopped and looked at his own hands. “Did something happen?”

“No!” Jonas insisted and the ferocity of his tone gave Mike enough reason to believe his answer was genuine.

“Okay,” Mike said, nodding, showing he accepted his reply. “What is it then?”

Jonas bit his lip, thinking. Mike remained silent, giving him time.

“I was wondering if-” Jonas started, cutting himself off, like he had lost his nerve. At Mike’s encouraging look, he began again. “I was wondering if…you could help me paint my nails.”

This last bit was said in a rush and so it took Mike a moment to decipher the words. When he did, his eyebrows shot to his hairline.

“Oh,” he stated, blinking. Was that it? Seeing Jonas looking embarrassed, he quickly went on. “Yeah, Jojo, of course! Uh, what…what color?”

The simple question seemed to stump Jonas.

“Huh?” he uttered, staring at Mike with wide eyes. His hands were twitching in his lap.

“What color?” Mike repeated, hoping his concern didn’t bleed too much into his tone. He didn’t want Jonas to feel like he was being x-rayed.

“Uh,” Jonas said, searching Mike’s face like he was wondering if his father was hiding his true reaction. “I thought…blue. Like yours. Maybe?”

Mike felt a burst of warmth in his chest at hearing his son say he wanted to copy him. He smiled as his eyes darted to his own hands, which sported a sparkling blue, before his focus returned to Jonas.

“Sure!” Mike chirped enthusiastically, almost giddy to get started. “Do you…do you want to do it right now?”

“Um…yeah?” Jonas asked. He still looked somewhat anxious and his tone was questioning, as though wondering if that was okay. “Unless you’re busy?”

“Nope!” Mike reassured him, smiling. “I’m all good! If you want, I can go grab the stuff we need. Fair warning: it takes a while. About an hour. So…grab a snack, go to the bathroom, all that stuff, if you need to.”

“I’m good,” Jonas answered, looking slightly more relaxed as he observed his father’s clear excitement.

“Cool!” Mike replied, shooting off the couch and making for the stairs to gather the necessary supplies from his bedroom. Having an idea, he turned back toward Jonas. “Also, find something on Netflix. We need entertainment or we’ll just have to sit here.”

Mike dashed up the stairs and ran down the hallway to the master bedroom, going to the closet and gathering what he needed. He stopped in the bathroom to retrieve a basin from under the sink.

“Who goes there?” Will called out from behind the shower curtain, raising his voice to be heard over the rushing water.

“Just me, babe,” Mike said, filling the basin halfway with warm water from the faucet. “Just need something.”

“Uh, okay,” Will said, puzzled at his vague answer. “I love you!”

“I know!” Mike responded in an imitation of Han Solo before he carefully left the bathroom and began his journey back down the stairs, moving slowly so that he didn’t drop anything or, God forbid, spill the water.

Smiling at Jonas’ curious expression, Mike set everything down on the coffee table.

“Okay!” he announced once everything was in place. “First, put your hands in the water. It softens the nails. Makes this all so much easier.”

Jonas obeyed, placing his hands gingerly in the filled basin, glancing at Mike as though for encouragement. Mike smiled, assuring him that he had done it correctly.

“Okay, now get comfortable!” Mike went on. “We’re gonna be here for a while.”

His gaze flicked up to the TV, studying the show that his son had put on. Stand-up comedy.

“You really like that Mulaney guy, huh?” Mike asked him and seeing Jonas’ nod, he gave him an approving look. “You have good taste. Much like your father.”

Jonas snorted and some of the tension seemed to leave him.

“And yet,” he said softly, snickering. “You still like pineapple on your pizza.”

Mike sucked in a breath.

He was not having this discussion again. Things were going so well. They were having a moment, Jonas and he. Mike really didn’t want their bonding experience to be cut short by him having to disown his son.

“It’s good, Jonas,” he settled on diplomatically, keeping his voice level, something he was very proud of.

“Dad doesn’t think so,” Jonas reminded him, fighting a grin. He could see how much willpower it was costing Mike to remain serene in the face of what the paladin perceived as egregious slander.

“Your father,” Mike responded, pausing to decide how to phrase his statement. He knew if he said anything too mean, the preteen would tattle on him and Will would take him to task. “Your father sometimes says stupid things.”

“I know,” Jonas said, looking pointedly at Mike and snickering.

Mike huffed a laugh and nodded, conceding.

He had walked right into that one.

After some minutes of watching the show, Mike turned back to his son.

“Should be good now,” he noted, gesturing that Jonas should remove his hands from the basin. Mike reached for one of Jonas’ hands and picked up the nail clippers. “Now, we must ensure that we’re not trying to paint talons.”

Jonas shot him a look, causing Mike to laugh.

The man meticulously made his way through all of Jonas’ fingers, clipping and then filing where necessary. Jonas mostly focused on the show, but occasionally his eyes flicked to Mike’s, and Mike always smiled when that happened. His son’s earlier trepidation seemed to have dissolved for the most part, but he didn’t want it to reappear.

Concluding with that step, Mike moved on.

“Now,” he said, gaining Jonas’ attention. “For the base coat.”

Jonas’ eyebrows knitted together at the sight of his father beginning this process.

“Why is it clear?” he asked inquisitively.

“It’s meant to protect your nails,” Mike explained, slipping subconsciously into teacher mode. “Keep them healthy. Prevents staining too. It’s always a good idea, but especially when painting your nails a dark color. Like blue.”

Jonas nodded as he absorbed this information.

They both distracted themselves from the waiting process by refocusing on the TV.

When Mike had deemed enough time to have passed, he opened the bottle of blue polish.

“So here’s how you do this,” Mike informed him. “We’re going to be doing multiple layers. Two. Maybe three. Thin layers. So, if you want to do this part yourself, I-”

“Can you do it?” Jonas pleaded with him and, after getting over his surprise at both the request and the tone in which said request had been made, Mike agreed.

“Thin layers,” Mike reiterated, as he began painting Jonas’ left hand with gentle brushstrokes.

“Why not just do one thick layer?” Jonas questioned. “Get it over with?”

Jonas’ voice made it obvious that he would have preferred this presumably quicker method.

“Because it would look sloppy,” Mike explained, amused. He understood his son’s impatience. He was sort of the master of that particular character flaw. “And it takes forever to dry.”

Mike continued in his duty in near silence, focused on the task and not wanting to mess up in front of his son. He added a second and then a third layer of blue paint, giving each an adequate time to dry in between.

Finally, he moved on to the last step.

“That’s to protect the nails again?” Jonas asked, eyeing Mike curiously as he applied the top coat.

“Correct, my young Padawan,” Mike agreed, moving carefully as he had during the entire process. His hands had become steadier since his first attempt at painting nails in his basement years ago, though it was admittedly awkward to paint someone else’s nails. He seriously had to let Will know how much he appreciated the other man doing his nails for him. Mike could do it himself now, but he still liked when Will did it.

When this last coat had finally dried, with Mike having used a cotton swab to seal the ends of the nails, it was done.

“All finished,” Mike announced, his eyes immediately moving to his son’s face. He wanted to see his reaction.

He wasn’t disappointed.

Mike felt a smile tug at his lips as he saw Jonas’ eyes light up. A smile stretched across his face, eventually breaking into a grin as he tilted his hands, drinking in the sight from every angle.

“What do you think?” Mike inquired, smiling. He didn’t need to ask. His son’s expression was answer enough. But he was curious to hear how he might vocalize his feelings.

“I love them!” Jonas said instantly, his gaze breaking from his inspection to beam at Mike. “They look so bright and sparkly and cool and-”

Mike couldn’t help it. He laughed. His son sounded breathless, on the edge of giggling, like he often did after riding a particularly enrapturing rollercoaster.

He was obviously happy.

Which in turn made Mike happy.

“It suits you,” Mike assured him, returning Jonas’ smile before beginning to clean up.

As he disposed of the used cotton swabs and returned all the items he had utilized to their proper place, Mike found himself thinking about the first time he had painted his own nails. Or, more accurately, the first time Will had done so.

Surrounded by his friends, Mike had at first been intimidated by Max’s suggestion, but that hesitation had left him after hearing Will’s assurance. Having everyone else join in helped too. He was glad they were there to persuade him, or he might not have gone through with it.

There had been an insistent, harsh-sounding whisper in the back of his mind and it told him that what he was doing wasn’t allowed. It was forbidden. It wasn’t for boys.

The voice had sounded a lot like his father.

Which was strange. It wasn’t as though Mike cared about what the man thought about him. He knew what the man thought about him, had known ever since he had accidentally outed himself and been subject to his father’s judgment.

But doing something like painting his nails felt more…defiant. A visible mark of his abnormality, of his so-called “rebellion.”

When his father had finally spotted his sign of resistance, he had grimaced before clenching his jaw and shielding his face behind a newspaper.

He hadn’t said a word, but his disapproval radiated off of him in waves.

Holly had loved them, of course, although it had taken a bit of explaining from Mike for her to understand that she probably shouldn’t broadcast the news that her brother wore nail polish. His mom had advised the same, warning him to be cautious, as she had the night he had been outed. Naturally, he knew that already. He wasn’t stupid, and once his mom was reminded of that, she moved on to complimenting Will for his workmanship and asking Mike if he would ever consider other colors, since she apparently had a plethora of polish that she had little use for.

She had never suggested he remove it.

That fact had not struck Mike until later and when it did, he had wondered about it. But as he looked at the way Jonas was practically glowing, at the sudden delight and confidence that had come over his son, Mike understood.

He must have been the same way. He remembered feeling…lighter. Like somehow, the polish on his fingers wasn’t nail polish at all, but war paint, giving him the courage to face the battle that was surviving as an outsider in Hawkins.

Had his mother seen the same confidence in him that he now saw in Jonas?

Mike was suddenly tempted to ask his son what had prompted this desire for painted nails, but stopped himself.

Whatever it was, it was his son’s story. Not his.

“Greetings, family!” Will’s voice called from the base of the stairs and both Jonas and Mike looked up to spot the cleric, freshly showered and sporting a new outfit, making his way toward them. He raised his eyebrows when he saw Jonas’ nails. “Did you get jealous of the paint on your father and want to be included?”

Will gestured to the smudge of magenta still on Mike’s nose, causing the other man to groan at the reminder. Had it seriously been there the whole time?

Mike looked at Jonas, betrayed. Had his son intentionally neglected to mention it? One scan of the boy’s smirking face revealed that this was the case.

And after they had bonded over this and everything.

“You put everything back?” Will clarified and, at Mike’s confirmation, nodded. “Well, I’m going to go get it back out, because we all know that Maia’s going to get jealous and demand someone paint hers when she wakes up. Don’t worry. I’ll take that shift.”

Mike nodded his thanks and Will took a seat on the couch. They all watched John Mulaney sign off on his special and Jonas moved to start the next one.

Feeling Will’s gaze on him, Mike glanced to his left and looked over Jonas’ head at his husband.

Will’s eyes darted to Jonas and he used the arm that was around the boy’s shoulder to flash Mike a thumbs up. Mike grinned when he realized Will was praising him for his skill with the brush.

Mike extended his own arm across Jonas, adding another layer of imaginary protection as he rested his hand on Jonas’ far shoulder.

Will moved his hand and took Mike’s, entwining their fingers, blue meeting yellow.

Exchanging glances, words were unnecessary. They were both thinking the same thing.

As their gazes lingered on the back of Jonas’ head, they both thanked whatever forces controlled the cosmos that their son hadn’t grown up when they had, hadn’t been forced to walk through Hawkins, always looking over his shoulder, always partially hidden.

The world they lived in may not be perfect. They both knew that. But as they stared at each other with their son between the two of them, they felt a wonderful feeling, foreign to them for so long, fill the room. A feeling that, despite their best wishes and attempts to capture it, had never been sensed in Hawkins.

They felt safe.

The first thing that Mike heard when he came to was the distinctive sound of the love of his life laughing at him.

The gall!

He shot a lukewarm glare toward Will, who was still chortling.

“I’m sorry,” Will said, the sincerity of his words being counteracted by his laughter. “I just think it’s hilarious that you clearly just had a flashback too. We really are soulmates, aren’t we?”

“This proves it,” Mike answered, sarcasm lacing his tone. He glanced around and found his son missing.

Again.

“I lost Jonas again,” he told Will, who gave an unsurprised snort. They both left the booth and began making their way back to the picnic tables near the food vendors. It was their designated meeting spot if the family ever got separated.

They stopped off at the makeshift concession stand to purchase another corn dog for each of them.

They snacked on their provisions while they waited for their children to make their way over.

That was how Jonas found them.

“You should wear this,” he requested, seeming to forget how to politely greet people, but that was fine. Mike and Will usually didn’t bother with such conversational constraints unless the situation forced them to. Jonas emphasized his statement by tossing a t-shirt, one he had obviously bought from the nearby vendor that had engrossed Will earlier.

Mike snickered and looked up at the demand, ignoring the clothing article to fix his son with a playful glare.

“I appreciate the help,” Mike assured him, chuckling. “But really, is my wardrobe that bad? Because I feel like between you and-”

“Mike,” Will cut him, his voice sounding peculiar. He had picked up the shirt resting betwixt them and was eying it. His expression was unreadable.

Curious at what had sent his husband into such an odd state, Mike brought the black shirt to him, smoothing it out so that he could make out the text, which was emblazoned in alternating lines of pink, purple, and blue, in the same descending order as the familiar flag:

I LOVE MY

BISEXUAL

SON!

It took Mike a minute to process the gravity of what he was reading, and when he had, his eyes snapped to Jonas.

His son gazed back, glancing between them. His eyes suddenly drifted downward as he removed his hands from behind his back and Mike emitted a choked sob that ended in a watery giggle.

Jonas had applied new war paint.

He had abandoned his traditional total blue, the one that matched Mike’s. The color still made an appearance, but it now alternated every other finger with a rich amethyst purple. Except for the pinkies. Each one was the sole pink-colored nail on each hand.

The continued silence jarred Mike and he internally panicked as he realized he hadn’t yet responded to Jonas’ news.

Meeting Will’s eyes from across the table (and noticing that said eyes looked suspiciously wet, not that Mike blamed him. He couldn’t think of a more appropriate moment for happy tears), they both instantly knew what to do.

They stood up from the picnic table as one and each embraced their son from a different side, eventually pulling away to give him matching kisses on both cheeks, which were now tinged red with embarrassment.

“So,” Jonas asked, wiping at his eyes, his voice cracking from emotion. “You’ll…you’ll wear the shirt?”

Laughter bubbled up from both men as they continued to beam.

“Yes,” Mike assured him, squeezing his shoulder. “I think it’ll become a favorite of mine.”

Jonas grinned, before looking at Will sheepishly.

“I’ll get you one too,” he promised his father. “I just needed one as a…visual aid.”

That brought another round of laughter, although even Mike could admit the joke hadn’t been that funny. The happiness that had engulfed them was infectious and seemed to keep bouncing between them like a boomerang.

Although speaking of jokes…

“Jonas,” Mike asked, a thought coming to him and making him giggle even harder. “You…painted your pinkies…pink. Did you…was that a pun?”

“Maybe,” the boy alleged, his attempt at a straight-faced expression ruined by the playfulness that was present in his eyes.

This resulted in more chuckles, although mostly from Mike.

They hadn’t completely sobered themselves when Maia came bounding over to the table.

She raised an eyebrow as she inspected her family members. Mike and Will both sported huge grins, while Jonas was smiling softly as he fingered the shirt on the table.

“Did I miss something?” she asked, sounding puzzled.

Both men looked at Jonas, letting him take the lead. They expected him to maybe show his sister the shirt and say he had bought it for Mike.

But that apparently wasn’t needed.

“I told them,” he said simply, gesturing between their parents.

Maia, catching sight of the new color scheme of her brother’s nails, smiled and gave him a sincere hug, taking the time to whisper something to him that neither man caught.

“So,” Mike noted after observing the scene, addressing Maia. “You obviously already knew.”

“Yep,” Maia confirmed and didn’t elaborate. Neither Mike nor Will pushed further.

It hadn’t been her story to tell.

Jonas went and bought an identical shirt for Will and, after that, the family found themselves moving toward the exit.

They hadn’t stayed that long, but each of them seemed to silently agree that the day had been packed with enough excitement.

Unfortunately for Mike, they had stayed long enough for the paladin to receive his usual punishment.

Observing the way his husband winced as he moved, Will already knew what the other man was going to ask for and intercepted his question before it left his mouth.

“Yes,” Will told him, smirking. “We have aloe vera.”

“Oh, thank God,” Mike murmured as he traipsed to the car. “I can’t wait to get home.”

“Actually,” Will corrected him, shaking his head fondly. “It’s in the car. I didn’t want to have to put up with you whining all the way home.”

Mike was so grateful that he completely brushed off the comment and simply gave Will a look like the other man had hung the stars.

Except for the Sun though.

Fuck the Sun.

Mike was drawn out of his solar-related seething when Jonas tapped him gently on the shoulder.

“I was thinking,” the boy started shyly, holding out his phone for Mike to take. “Maybe I could get one for my room?”

Once Mike’s eyes had adjusted enough to make out what was on the screen, he smiled.

His son was online shopping and had stumbled across a bisexual flag, one large enough that it would take up a considerable amount of wall space.

Mike gave Jonas his phone back and nodded.

“I think we can make that happen,” he vowed.

The radiance of his son's resultant smile could outshine any star.