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Chapter Text

Nancy Wheeler stood in her pink striped pajamas on the Byers’ porch, eyes on the frightening side of determined. She had only stopped pounding on the front door when Jonathan had swung it open, hair messy from sleep. Her mouth was already open to speak, but Jonathan beat her to the punch.

“Is Will okay?”

She shut her mouth, momentarily confused. “What? Will’s fine. That’s not – We need to talk.”

He took a breath, calming himself. Will was okay. That was what was important. So, he started on the next most important thing. “Nancy, it’s one in the morning. What can possibly be important enough for you to have – wait, how did you get here?”

She gestured back at the driveway, where Steve sat slumped in the front seat of his car, yawning widely enough to show the world his still emerging wisdom teeth. 

"You woke Steve up, too?"

"You weren't answering your phone," she explained, as if this were all perfectly rational. 

He yawned. "Because it's one in the morning, Nancy. Who answers the phone at one in the morning?"

"Steve."

He rolled his eyes. "Apparently." His half-awake head finally remembered Hawkins' most common cause of urgency. "Shit, we don't have more supernatural bullshit going on, do we?"

"No, actually, we seem to be okay on that front."

He leaned against the door frame and rubbed his eyes. "Then, no offense, Nance, but what do you want?"

"Is your brother in love with my brother?" she blurted. 

Jonathan opened his eyes to squint at her. "What?"

"Is your brother – "

"No, I heard you. What?"

She blinked. "I don't know how to restate the question more clearly."

He stepped through the door, closing it behind him and shivering in the Indiana chill. "You woke both of us up at one in the goddamn morning just to ask me about my little brother's love life?"

"That's correct."

He knocked his knuckles against the door. "You are a menace, Nancy Wheeler."

She shrugged. "You love it."

"Less so in the middle of the night."

"Are you gonna answer the question?"

"No."

"No, he isn't in love with Mike, or no, you won't answer the question?"

"No, I won't answer the question."

"So, he is in love with Mike."

"I didn't say that."

"Close enough."

He buried his face in his hands. "Why are you doing this to me?"

She opened her mouth to say something before sighing and shaking her head. "I'm sworn to secrecy."

"Wait! Is your brother in love with my brother?"

"I didn't say that."

"Fucking close enough!" He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm gonna kill that kid."

She drew back, clearly offended. "Wait, now you don't like gay people?"

"What? No!"

"Then why do you wanna kill my gay brother?'

"So, he is gay!"

"I didn't say that!"

"You literally just did."

She reviewed the past few exchanges in her head. "Oh, shit."

"But I don't want to kill your idiot brother because he's gay. I want to kill him because he's an idiot."

"Don't call Mike an idiot."

"You call him an idiot all the time."

"He's my idiot."

"Who's an idiot?" Steve asked, climbing the porch stairs and rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Mike," they chorused. 

Steve nodded. "Sounds about right. Why did we all get up at one in the morning to call Mike an idiot?"

"He's in love with Will," Jonathan said. 

Nancy shoved him. "I didn't say that!"

"Close enough."

Steve played with the flat spot in his hair where he'd slept on it. "Didn't we already know that?"

"What?" Nancy spluttered.

Jonathan whipped his head around. "You knew?"

"Are they not already dating?" 

"No!"

"Oh." He shrugged. "Mike is an idiot."

"What," Nancy snarked, "and Will isn't?"

Jonathan turned on her. "No! He isn't!"

"Ehhhhh," Steve said, "he does have a thing for Mike."

Jonathan sighed. "Yeah, he has questionable taste."

Nancy shoved them both. "Screw you guys."

"So," Steve laughed, "if they're not dating…"

"I don't like where this is going," Jonathan said.

"I do," said Nancy.

"...how do we get them to date?"

Jonathan opened the front door. "I'm going back to bed."

Nancy pulled it shut. "No, you're not."

"I'm not helping you set up our stupid little brothers, no matter how long they've been pining after each other."

"I knew it! Will's in love with him!"

"I didn't – " He rolled his eyes and opened the door again. "Fine. Yes. Our stupid little brothers are in love with each other. Now, can I please go to bed?"

Nancy shook her head and marched through the door, pulling Steve behind her. "Nope. Operation Stupid Little Brothers is a go. Do you have waffles?"

He sighed, following them into the kitchen. "Eleven lives here. Of course, we have waffles."

Chapter Text

Their first plan of attack was to talk to Will, the less stupid member of the stupid little brothers. Jonathan, of course, was elected to do the talking. 

So, maybe, just maybe, he was a little bit on board with this ridiculous plot. Not that he thought it was a good idea. Just that he really did want Will to be happy. And if Nancy was right about his feelings being requited… Well, how could it hurt?

Either way, here he was, leaning against his car and gnawing at his thumb as he waited for Will to get out of Hellfire Club. He tried to get his words in the perfect order, make his argument so irrepproachable that Will would be utterly convinced to just talk to Mike already. 

But then Will appeared from the high school halls, Mike slung around his shoulders, beaming despite the bashful pink of his cheeks, and all of Jonathan's good sense disappeared. 

If Mike hurt his brother, Jonathan was going to kill him. 

"Hey, Jonathan!" Will called, waving with excitement. "Are we still on for ice cream?"

Jonathan nodded. "'Course we are." He crossed the parking lot to them, ruffling Will's hair. Mike pulled his arm away, shying away under Jonathan's eye.

"You guys are getting ice cream?" he asked, jealousy clear in his voice.

Will looked from him to Jonathan. "Can Mike come? They just got cherry mint back in stock."

Jonathan swore internally, schooling his face into a smile. "Sure, why not? But also, he eats what?"

Will's smile widened. "Thanks, Jonathan!" He leaned in, as if conspiring, though his voice was plenty loud for Mike to hear. "I think he's eaten about half their stock already. It's been two days."

Mike looked offended. "Don't make fun of me! It's good!"

"There's no way that's good," Jonathan chimed in.

"It is, too!"

Will laughed. "Come on, weirdo." He pulled Jonathan's trunk open and lifted Mike's bike into it.

Jonathan watched them, shaking his head at their smiles, the way they couldn't seem to keep their eyes off each other. He'd noticed a while ago the way Will looked at Mike like he hung the sun and moon, but… 

Damn, he totally should have caught onto Mike's crush before. He stuck to Will like a foot's separation might kill him. Idiot.

Operation Stupid Little Brothers was definitely a go. Just maybe not today.

Chapter Text

Jonathan took his next chance a few days later during movie night. Joyce was still at work and Eleven was over at Max’s, so it was just the two of them, curled up on the couch watching Halloween. As another of Laurie Strode's friends got murdered, Jonathan turned to Will. 

"So, how's Mike?"

Will froze, mid-chew of his popcorn. He blinked, swallowed. "He's fine."

Jonathan nodded. "Good."

"Everyone else is fine, too. In case you were wondering."

“Oh. That’s good.”

Will hummed, not taking his eyes off of the movie. “You’ve put way too much thought into this, haven’t you?”

Shit. Jonathan coughed, fighting for time. “I, um, don’t know what you mean.”

Will rolled his eyes and ate another piece of popcorn. “Jonathan, every time you overthink one of your signature pep talks, you totally psych yourself out and it ends up like this.”

Jonathan forgot sometimes just how observant his dumb little brother could be. “I’m sorry, I thought I was supposed to be the wise one here.”

“Only when you don’t overthink it.” He laughed and shook his head. “Mike is fine. He is also never going to happen, so you can quit trying to meddle.”

“I’m not trying to meddle!” Will fixed him with an unimpressed look. “Okay, I am a little. I just think ‘never going to happen’ is a little pessimistic.”

“Oh, you’re one to talk about pessimism.”

Jonathan paused the movie. “This isn’t about me. This is about you and Mike.”

Will grabbed the remote, gesturing with it. “Which is a closed issue. I am in love with him, he is oblivious, he will remain oblivious, end of story.” He unpaused Halloween, screams issuing from the television set.

Jonathan took back the remote and stopped it again. “What if you talked to him?”

Will swiveled his whole body to look at Jonathan. “And said what? ‘Hi, Mike, I’m hopelessly in love with you even though you’re totally girl-crazy and used to date my sister. Hope this doesn’t make our friendship weird. Anyway, wanna tell me more about your heterosexuality?’ No, thanks.” He reached over Jonathan to hit the play button.

“You’re a pain in the ass, sometimes. You know that?”

“I do,” Will said, leaning towards the movie and tuning him out.

“I just think maybe he’s not as straight as you think he is.”

It was Will’s turn to pause the film. He turned to Jonathan, eyes half hopeful, half annoyed. “Where’d you get that idea from?

“I have a reliable source.”

He scoffed and curled up again, back to Jonathan. “Nancy does not count.”

“I never said it was Nancy!”

“Yeah, but it is. And Nancy and Mike haven’t had an honest conversation since Mike was eight. So. She doesn’t exactly count as a reliable source.”

Jonathan crossed his arms and huffed. “You know, this is my girlfriend we’re talking about.”

“And my best friend. Who’s known who longer?”

“Whom.”

Will scoffed and started the movie up again. “When Mike Wheeler says to my face that he isn’t straight, then I’ll believe it. Until then, I’m calling it a lost cause.”

Jonathan shook his head and turned back to the screen. If this operation was going to succeed, they were going to have to attack on the opposite front.

Chapter Text

It all started as Nancy was getting ready for bed. She'd been hiding in her room all evening, the raucous group of younger teens making the lower floors practically unlivable.

The noise had started to fade, though occasional peals of laughter still echoed up into her room from the basement. She looked up at her picture board, at the photo strip of her and Barb. She smiled, one of the sad smiles she always got when she remembered Barb. 

But there were more pictures now. Pictures of Robin in her band uniform, Steve in her stolen hat. Pictures of Jonathan and Argyle on some California boardwalk. Pictures of all of them at one of Eddie's concerts, Nancy plugging her ears. 

Still, in these little moments, she missed Barb desperately.

She didn't have time to tumble too far down that rabbit hole, a knock sounding at her door. 

"One second," she called, buttoning up her pajamas and opening up the door. 

Rather than her mother, Mike stood there, towering over Nancy like he'd recently started to. 

"Mike?" she asked. "What's going on?"

"Can we talk?"

She shrugged. "I was getting ready for bed, but sure, I've got a few minutes. Aren't your friends still downstairs?"

As if on cue, another peal of laughter. Mike didn't respond, instead walking silently to sit on the edge of Nancy's bed.

"If I tell you something," he murmured, "you won't tell Mom and Dad?"

She scoffed. "When do we ever tell them anything?"

He fixed her with a serious gaze, uncertain and imploring. 

"I won't tell."

He breathed, rubbed his hands over his thighs, stared at his thumbs. 

"So," she prodded, "you gonna tell me?"

He let out an uncertain hum. 

"Are you okay?"

"I can't seem to force it out of my mouth."

She really did want to get to bed, her sheets looking more inviting by the minute, but she couldn't remember the last time Mike had come to her like this. She couldn't remember him opening up to her really at all. So, Nancy sat down on the bed beside him. "I can wait."

And then he did something unfathomable. He reached out and grabbed Nancy's hand. He held it tightly, as if she were dangling him over an abyss. 

She squeezed his bony knuckles.

"What if," he started, closing his mouth as soon as he'd opened it.

"What if what?"

"What if there's something… wrong with me?"

"What kind of wrong?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "What if I have feelings for someone, someone I shouldn't and… and no matter how much I try, I can't get rid of them?"

"Oh," she breathed. "This is about Will."

His eyes widened. "I didn't–"

She cut him off with a look, half understanding and half exasperation. 

"Yeah," he murmured. "It's about Will. I didn't know you knew."

She leaned against his side. "I suspected."

He rested his head on her shoulder. "What am I supposed to do, Nancy?"

"I don't know. I never knew what to do with Barb."

He looked at her. "Barb?"

She shrugged. "There was a time I thought… I don't know. That something could happen with us. But then Steve came along, and, well…"

"Oh." He turned back to his hands, morose.

She wiped back a tear, sniffled, and wrapped an arm around Mike. "But you've still got Will, you know? Don't let him go."

They sat for a moment, each caught up in their own world. And then Mike stood. He crossed to the door, looking just as adrift as he had when he walked in. "I won't," he murmured. "I won't lose him."

And then he left. And Nancy lay down in bed and cried. 

She didn't know how long she lay like that, curled in a ball, wracked with sobs. It has been a while since she'd cried for Barb, for the girl she'd been with Barb. She'd almost forgotten that girl had existed. She cried for her brother, too, cried for his heartache.

But as the moon rose high in her window, her sobs faded to hiccups, her grief dulling away. The house had gone quiet, from attic to basement. 

Nancy was deathly thirsty. She pulled a robe around her shoulders, one she'd dragged Robin along shopping for, and snuck down the stairs. She crept into the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it in the sink. 

When she turned around, she almost dropped her water. 

Will stood before her, Mike's pajamas hanging off of him, holding a glass himself. 

"Shit," she muttered. "When did you get there?"

He shrugged. "While you were at the sink. Do you mind?" he asked, gesturing with his empty cup. 

"Oh. Right." She backed away from the sink, letting Will take her place. He turned on the faucet, both of them watching the water flow. 

As he shut it off, he asked, "What was Mike doing in your room earlier?"

"Oh." She cleared her throat. "Just making sure I never get to bed on time."

Will chuckled. "He's good at that."

He headed back towards the basement stairs, gazing down them with moonlight in his eyes. 

Nancy followed his stare. Mike lay at the bottom of the stairwell, hair splayed out around his head. She watched her dumb little brother sleep for a minute, the way he crinkled his nose like a disgruntled rabbit. 

And then she looked back at Will, the forlorn smile on his face. 

Oh.

Chapter Text

Somehow, their best soldier had fallen in battle against Will Byers' obstinance. So, here Nancy was, trespassing into enemy land: the Wheeler basement. Mike's basement.

"Hey," she called, picking her way down the stairs and around Mike's scattered stuff, "you down here?"

A groan emanated from the darkness. Mike grumbled and sat up from the couch, his hair flattened on one side, eyes glazed with sleep. "Nancy?" he muttered, rubbing one eye, "What are you doing down here?"

"You know, you're not the only one living in this house. There's actually five whole people."

He dropped his hand to roll his eyes at her. "Yeah, and four of them come down here about once a year. What are you doing?"

"I came to talk to you."

He stared at her, nose wrinkled up in confusion. "About what?"

"Can I sit?" she asked, gesturing at the coffee table beside the couch. 

"I guess." He sat up, pawing at his unkempt hair, and she sat across from him, skirt folding around her knees. 

"I thought about our conversation the other day," she said. "The one about Will."

He blinked up at her. The look on his face brought Nancy back to watching her three year old brother get yelled at over drawing on the walls, guilt and shame wrapped up in his child's eyes. She forgot sometimes that Mike wasn't still that young, that innocent. 

"What about it?" he breathed, voice soft and unbearably fragile. 

"You're not in trouble. You know that, right?"

He shrugged one shoulder. "I guess."

She knocked his knee with her own. "Don't tell Holly," she stage-whispered, "but you'll always be my baby brother."

He cracked a ghost of a smile, scratching at the back of his neck. "Even when I'm ninety?"

"Especially when you're ninety," she laughed. "You'll be tiny and helpless again."

"And you won't be?" His smile stretched out across his face, mocking if still half hesitant.

"Time works differently for nerds. I'll still be thirty-five."

"Sure," he chuckled, wiping at his mouth before sobering. "So, what did you want to say?"

"Oh. Right." She flicked her eyes towards his, big and brown and expectant, and cleared her throat. "What, um… what are you planning on doing about it?"

He drew back, face flashing with hurt. "So, you think I'm right. That there's something wrong with me." It wasn't a question. 

"What?" She shook her head, hands moving to wipe away any such thought. "Mike, no! That's not what I meant at all."

"Sure, right." His defenses faltered, a hairline crack through his walls. "What did you mean?"

"Will. What are you planning on doing about Will?"

A beat. 

"What? Nothing."

"What do you mean, nothing?"

"I mean, nothing!" He hiked his shoulders up around his ears, curling into himself, his voice pitching back into adolescence. 

"You're not going to say anything to him?"

"Do you think I'm crazy? No!"

She crossed her arms at that, fixing him with a glare. "Telling him how you feel isn't crazy."

Here his voice strained, clearly struggling to keep quiet. "Yeah, no, you're right. Being queer in Hawkins in the fucking first place – that's what's crazy!"

"Mike!"

"Don't 'Mike' me!" He stood, gesturing wildly with his gangly arms. "You're the one that told me not to lose him! That's what I'm fucking trying to do!"

"Why are you just assuming that telling him means losing him?"

"Because I know how this shit goes, Nancy!" He tore at his hair, eyes shiny with tears. "The boy does not get the other boy, the boy gets called a fag and thrown in the lake!"

She deflated, sighed, whispered, "Mike."

He rolled his eyes and whispered back, "I just said, don't fucking 'Mike' me." 

And with that, he stomped up the stairs and out of Nancy's sight.

Shit.