Archive of Our Own ^beta

So… where had Robin even come from, anyway?

Mike doesn't remember exactly when she'd shown up. Just that one day, Nancy's old boyfriend, that jackass Harrington, had arrived with her in tow.

So, Steve's got a new chick. Big whoop, Mike had thought, rolling his eyes internally. Then externally, for good measure.

Max had caught him at it: Knock it out, jackass, she'd said, flicking Mike on the ear.

God. He misses Max.

In any case, Robin was dorkier than he might have expected from Steve. On the other hand— the guy's best friend is Dustin. He might put on a cool front, but Steve is sort of a weirdo. Maybe she's exactly as dorky as he should have expected.

It isn't like it affects him, in the end. Robin is here now. She threw a flamethrower at Vecna last year, or something. Apparently. Great.

Welcome to the team.

But… Since when had she and Will become best friends?

He glances back again at the two of them, lingering in the packed, dirt tunnel— one of many hacked out beneath Hawkins, spreading under the city like capillaries. Mike's second-favorite cousin, Laura, had started at the University of Minnesota a few years back, and had come to Thanksgiving dinner that year armed with stories of the extensive tunnel system connecting the campus underground. Ever since, Mike could only imagine Laura, up in Minnesota, inside of a tunnel like this — earthen walls and floors, roots dangling from the ceiling — crowded amongst a mass of college students, huddling with backpacks on their shoulders and books pressed tight against their chests. If a creature from the Upside Down came for them, would they run? Would they have even a chance?

He shakes his head; Laura had shown him pictures, the last Christmas they were allowed outside of Hawkins. The tunnels under her campus are broad, made of concrete and bright with tubes of fluorescent lighting. Nothing like this.

They're on their way to the military base set up downtown, filled with over-armed GI Joes and snot-nosed elementary schoolers. Mike isn't sure which group he's less eager to interact with; At least the elementary kids have better haircuts.

Will and Robin look eager, though. Giggling, leaning right into each other's space like they belong there. It puts a cramp in his stomach.

Nudging Lucas; "What's up with that?" He asks under his breath, nodding to the pair loitering a few dozen feet behind. Roots curl down from the uneven tunnel roof around either side of their heads, and their voices are muffled by the soil.

Lucas looks back, too, then frowns at Mike. "What are you talking about?"

"You know. Since when are they all… buddy-buddy?" Mike clarifies, brows furrowing.

Sneaking another glance, Lucas shrugs. "Robin's cute, I guess," he says.

"The hell do you mean?"

He shrugs again, a hapless look on his face.

"She's cute? She's, like, old," Mike whines.

"I'm just giving you one possible explanation, dude. Maybe he likes her?"

Mike gives him a look that he hopes conveys his thoughts on the theory.

"Hey! You asked me. Don't bite my head off." Lucas trudges on ahead, huffing.

Behind his shoulder, Mike checks one more time. Will, loose-limbed and smiley, and gazing at Robin like she has all the answers in the world. Robin: gangling, awkward Robin, who Mike had witnessed literally talking herself to sleep after more than one Crawl.

Well, shit. Will likes goddamn Robin?

…..

Mike considers bringing up the whole thing, when it's just him and Will up in the bathroom later. Four hands between them are proving to be no match against the pipe, shooting water across white linoleum with fervorous enthusiasm. He's soaked, Will is soaked. They're having a fantastic time.

"It's getting in my mouth," Mike whines.

"Mine too," Will sputters. "Stop whining."

A boy opens the door, stopping abruptly when he spots them on the floor. Will smiles encouragingly. Then, he chokes; another wave of water has spurted out from the pipe right into his face.

"Mr. Whatsit?" Mike asks, on temporary reprieve from the waterboarding. The kid nods with wide eyes, and Mike inclines his head to the "Out of Order" bathroom stall.

The kid starts towards the stall like a pig that knows it's headed for the butcher.

He disappears inside; After a pause, Robin's voice drifts softly up from the tunnel. "I'm nice. I promise," She says.

"She's literally nice," Will — able to breathe once more — agrees, pitching his voice up slightly so the kid can hear.

This is when Mike weighs asking Will about Robin. He workshops the questions in his head: So, you like her? But why do you like her? Since when do you like anyone and why haven't you told me?

The sound of a foot making contact with the ladder, just loud enough to reach Will and Mike, interrupts his thoughts. Beside him, Will relaxes — just a touch — and adjusts his grip on the pipe. Now, one of Will's hands covers half of Mike's. A thrill buzzes through Mike at the contact; trapped on the floor like this, he needs somewhere to put the energy, so he wiggles his fingers trapped by Will's hand in an attempt to tickle his palm. Will huffs, reaching out with one foot to scratch along Mike's calf. This is his way of saying, Stop that.

Mike shifts until his leg overlaps with Will's. He draws up his foot until he can tickle at the back of Will's knee with his toe: right where Will is sensitive to it. This is his response: No way.

Will's turn: he just kicks Mike this time, almost hard enough to bruise. Mike goes all tingly; something like affection coursing through him.

He forgets to ask about Robin.

…..

William Byers is the goddamn coolest motherfucker on this planet earth.

He, like— holy shit.

Wow.

He saved—

Holy shit.

Shit.

~~~~~~~~

The days after Will goes full sorcerer on the thing that almost kills Mike (and Joyce, and Lucas, and Robin, or whatever) are… more relaxed. If not quite relaxing.

There's the fact that a classroom's worth of nine-year-olds were dragged into, essentially, hell. The fact that his own kid sister was one of them. That his parents are still recovering over at Hawkin's General Hospital; that their mom can't speak yet, that the nurses only just let them see their father for the first time yesterday.

Mike tries not to think about it. They have other stuff going on.

Like Will having powers.

"They're not mine," he argues. "They're Vecna's. I just, you know, stole them."

"That's even cooler. You do see how that's cooler, right?"

Will shoves him; Mike's chest warms, and his cheeks curl up into a big, idiot's grin.

He's missed Will. He can't even remember the last time they've spent more than a day apart, these last 18 months, and still: he's so happy he doesn't have to miss him anymore.

…..

He's still hanging all over Robin, though.

"But isn't it weird?" He complains to Dustin, this time. Along with Lucas, the three of them are sitting in folding chairs outside of the radio station. "She's like, twenty. He can't even drive yet."

He's staring out into the field behind the WSQK. Robin and Will are out there; she looks like she's explaining something to Will, hands waving eagerly into the air. He watches Will step back, grinning, arms out as if to say, No, no!

"He can drive. Jonathon taught him," Dustin interrupts his voyeurism.

"Well, legally," Mike acquiesces.

Lucas chimes in: "None of us can. The nearest DMV is in Evansville and that's outside the quarantine zone."

"Oh, whatever. You know what I mean."

The three of them fall silent. Mike watches as Robin grabs Will by the forearms, spinning him around once, twice. Then, she tugs one of his arms to her neck and the other to her waist. They spin again. It's absurd.

Dustin makes a clicking noise with his teeth. "Honestly, I'm impressed. I didn't know the boy had it in 'im."

"You know, maybe it makes sense," Lucas says. "Because he's never liked the girls our age, even though they've been all over him for years."

"Come on," Mike starts, even though it's true. Girls love Will.

"I'm just saying," Lucas continues, giving Mike a pointed look. "Maybe he prefers older women, right?"

"Ooh la la," Dustin adds. "Will likes a cougar."

"Oh, fuck off," says Mike.

Lucas smiles, that sly one that means nothing good. "It's like how Dustin had the hots for Nancy back in—"

"Shut up, asshole," Dustin whines.

"And he left her that bundle of flowers — you remember that?"

"I'm leaving, dickheads." Mike gets up, hoping to avoid the ensuing brawl which is sure to come (and to avoid hearing anything more about Dustin's "Nancy" thing). He meanders through the tall, prairie grass towards Robin and Will.

When he closes in, he can hear what Robin is saying, leading Will through a set of poorly-choreographed dance steps: "Clang clang clang goes the trolley— come on, kid! Sing it!"

Neither of them have noticed Mike yet. Will's back is to his, but he's clearly smiling when he says, "Why do I need to know this, again?"

"This is your culture, kid. Our culture. Just trust me here—" She glances up and sees Mike, freezing, then recovering quickly. "Look, you'll thank me when you go off to college, Byers. In— in New York, or whatever," She pulls a hand away from Will to flap it around her face as she speaks. Then she adds, "Hi, Mike."

Mike, about to surprise Will with a poke at either side of his waist, gives her a dirty look. She shrugs in response.

Will, meanwhile, spins around to face him. "Oh," he says. "Hi."

"You're going to New York for college?" It spills out of Mike's mouth before he can help himself.

"Huh? Oh— no. Robin just—"

Robin has taken a step back. "It was just a thought," She says, airily.

Mike frowns.

"Anyway, I better be going. Told Vickie I'd catch Next Generation with her tonight."

"Kay," Says Mike.

"Bye Robin," Will says.

"Bye. Don't do anything I wouldn't do, kids." The gaze she passes between him and Will is weighty, though the meaning is lost on him entirely. Robin: as ever, strange. As she winds away, back towards the station, Mike hears her sing, "Zing zing zing went your heartstrings!" She turns, once, to smirk at Will, then continues on.

Will goes pink beside him.

He really does like her, doesn't he? Christ. Mike should be happy for him. And he is. He is.

If only he weren't so goddamn irritated, too.

~~~~~~~~

An unexpected bonus of Will With Powers: Mrs. Byers lets him out of her sight, once in a while.

He and Mike are on what Mike calls a "recon mission", and what everyone else called "getting out of the goddamn way for a minute".

Mike — antsy, still sore from the events at the Mac-Z, and in possession of a learner's permit (if not a full license; see DMV situation above) — has decided to avail himself of his resources.

That is, he's taken his dad's car.

His mom's minivan, parked next to Ted's car in the garage, feels off-limits to him. It's what she picks up Holly in, what she used to pick up Mike in. Where she loads and unloads groceries, where she keeps snacks to thrust in Mike's direction whenever he gets cranky.

But his dad's car— the hunter green Ford? That's fair game. Plus, it's still got the bike hitch on the back, from that terrible family trip up to Lake Michigan two years ago.

"This is sort of twisted," Will says when Mike picks him up, just behind the WSQK.

"Well. It's not like he's using it," Mike replies, a bit brusquely.

Will grimaces, hesitating before he asks, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." He's fine.

"Just— if you need to talk—"

"I don't." He doesn't.

"I'm here for you, is all I'm trying to say. And… Nancy. I guess." He frowns. "It all… really sucks for you guys. So. I'm here."

"Well. Thanks." He is grateful, really. He just prefers not to think of his parents, right now. His mom, in his mind's eye, still seeps red from her neck. He hears her gasping and gurgling around the blood in her throat while they wait for the ambulance—

"Yeah," Will responds. Mike comes back to himself. Will, in his periphery, nods once.

"Yeah," Mike echoes, and peels off towards the woods.

Their destination is a path at the edge of the forest, in an area that feels familiar to him; They're at least two miles from Hopper's now-abandoned cabin, but Mike spent at least two years of his life cutting through these trees each and every way to visit El. The trail head is marked inconspicuously with an old, yellow rubber boot, which glows dully under the Ford's high-beams.

Inside the car trunk is a camera from Hopper, who had asked him— reluctantly — if he'd be willing to set it up near El's most recent training spot. Hopper would have come himself, he'd explained, grimacing, but—

Mike had cut him off, eager to get out of the WSQK, "I'll do it. I've got you, Hop."

"Great." He'd said. Another grimace. The feeling was mutual.

Now, Will tucked close to his side, manning the flashlight, the two of them find their way easily to the site. Rusted vehicles and wooden beams scatter, there, around the forest floor.

The flashlight catches on a pile of crushed beer cans, which Mike knows Joyce had dumped out herself from a trash bag, hoping to disguise the purpose of any footprints they'd left behind.

He finds the old camera, pointed right at one of the empty cars, and replaces it quickly. Hopper will check the footage when they get back— making sure no one has found their spot in the past week or so. El hasn't been here to train in days, with everything going on, but the routine of it feels important. Mike understands that.

They run into no trouble on the return trip, either. It's when they're out of the woods, nearly back to Ted Wheeler's car, that Will stops: hand creeping to the base of his neck.

"I think…"

"What?" It's the hand at his neck that makes Mike nervous. "What is it?"

Will just looks blankly ahead. Like he's looking at the car, the hood close enough to touch now, and, simultaneously, somewhere else entirely.

"Will!" Mike grabs him at the bicep and shakes, once.

Dazed, Will just shrugs him off and turns, slowly, to face the empty street on which Mike had parked.

"I think… you should move," Will says, words coming slowly.

"What?"

Something large is visible, suddenly. It glistens under the moonlight, shambling with full speed directly at the two of them, feet slapping wetly against the pavement.

Mike should move out of the way. It's just that he can't quite get his body to do it: frozen, watching the thing get closer and closer. Dimly, he's aware of Will at his side, raising up his right hand in an almost exploratory gesture.

Mike can smell it now, sulfurous and metallic. It jumps in a final, heaving motion.

Will clenches his fist right as the thing hits the end of its arc. Right when Mike is starting to wonder if Will can, actually, save them, or if he's about to meet his end after all.

Oh, Will saves him. And then some. In fact, it might be better left unsaid what he does to the creature.

Or not:

Will annihilates it. The creature stalls out mid-air when Will pulls his fingers together, its great, many limbs breaking as they collapse in on each other. An imitation, perhaps, of how Vecna had killed his victims, or how Will had destroyed the demogorgon attacking Mike just days ago. The bones holding this thing together — underneath its horrifically gelatinous exterior — crackle and pop as they snap, then snap again, and again.

The limbs fold and fold and fold and fold together.

When it finally implodes, viscera sprays out in a thirty foot radius — soaking both Mike and Will — and what's left of the thing slams into Ted Wheeler's windshield with a crunch.

"Oh," Says Will, at Mike's side.

"Holy shit," Breathes Mike. "That was…"

"Sorry about the car."

Mike ignores him. "Gnarly! Shit. Shit!"

Will still has his hand out. He pulls it up to his face like he's inspecting it.

The moonlight illuminates just enough to see spider-webbing cracks running up through the whole windshield, which is otherwise coated with the pulsing, black-oozing guts of the creature.

Mike stares down at the mess, then back at Will. "Don't worry about the car. It was worth it to see—" He grabs Will by the hand, waving it in the air between them until Will (politely) snatches his hand back.

"God. Christ. That was the coolest shit I ever saw."

Will shrugs, clearly dazed.

Mike looks back at the car. Something sinks in: "Oh, god. My parents are going to kill me." Then: "That is… when they..."

It's too much to think about, right now. He casts about until he finds someone safer to imagine being furious with him— "No. Nancy is gonna kill me."

To this, Will nods sympathetically. "She will."

"I mean— what do we do now? You have a walkie? Or…"

Will shakes his head, and Mike sighs. He knows they're out of range anyway. "Well. I guess we walk, then."

"Guess so," Will agrees.

It turns out that the little display had drained Will more than he expected. Mike ends up half-carrying him on their way back to the station.

Will, he's always forgetting, is a lot sturdier these days. When he stumbles under his weight, Will suggests, "You could… leave me? Come pick me up later? It would be faster that way."

"Obviously, I'm not going to do that," Mike scoffs. "What if something comes back for you?"

"I think you're in more danger from that than I am." At Mike's expression, "What? You know I'm right. Besides, the… the Hive Mind is quiet now. I'll be able to tell when it's going to, you know, attack again."

"Yeah, well. Just lean on me, anyway. It'll make me feel better."

Will snorts, but leans back into Mike's weight. "Anything for your peace of mind, Mike," He jokes.

"Exactly."

It's not so slow, once they get going. Especially on these flat Indiana roads. He'd be screwed if they were somewhere like San Francisco. Mike had seen pictures of it, the steep, hilly streets. He remembers that Will had mentioned wanting to apply for Berkeley, back when he lived in California. That was close to San Francisco, just across the bay— Mike knows because he'd looked it up on a map later. Did Will still want to go there for college? Or did he want to go to New York, like Robin had mentioned.

The thought of Robin sours his mood, completely inexplicably.

He opens his big, stupid mouth and says: "So, I'd bet you're, like, bummed that Robin didn't get to see you. Saving the day again. All that."

Will pauses for a microsecond beside him. "Huh?"

"Robin," Mike reminds him helpfully.

"What about her?"

"Just that— you two are, like, close now. Right?" He nudges Will, going for suggestive, teasing. It falls flat; Will just looks confused.

"I guess so?" He says.

"So you'd want to, I don't know, impress her? Right? I'm saying it's a bummer she wasn't here to see you."

"Do you think— well, for one, I think only you are impressed by that sort of thing." He ticks his head back towards the destroyed car, a speck behind them now.

"Because it's impressive," Mike replies.

"Second. I think— I mean, what are you trying to imply here, Mike?"

"Well, it's pretty obvious to me — and everyone else, by the way! — that you and Robin have a thing going, so…"

"What?"

"You like Robin! Come on, don't lie to me. I know you do."

"Yeah, I like her — as a friend."

"And more than a friend."

Will just laughs. "Mike, she's, like, old. What the hell?"

"I don't know! Maybe you like older girls! You never talk about liking anyone, and half our grade is in love with you."

"I don't think that's true." Will sounds like he's blushing; Mike is a tad disappointed it's too dark for him to see it.

"It totally is," He insists. At Will's hesitation, "So, do you?"

"What?"

"Like Robin? Like, I don't know, cougars?"

"Dustin gave you that word, didn't he?"

Will, the tricky bastard, evades his questioning until Mike is finally forced to let the topic go.

The walk home, however, is quite nice.

…..

"For the record," He tells Will, later. When they're back, safe, at the station, and Will has eaten three Snickers bars and the color returns to his face. After Nancy has chewed his ass out within an inch of his life over the car, and some other things besides, he tells Will: "I am sad. About my parents. And Holly. And I'm really, really scared."

"I know," Will says.

"Because Nancy said that I'm being a robot— that I'm not even upset, because I haven't even, like, cried about it. But— but I am upset. I'm— I'm scared shitless. It's just, if I let myself think about it, I don't think—"

"I know," Will says again, stepping forward to pull Mike into his arms.

"If I start crying now, I just — I don't know if I'll ever stop," He chokes into Will's shoulder, tears leaking at first, then falling freely.

Will just holds him, rubbing circles into his back. "We'll fix it, Mike. We've got you. I've got you," He murmurs into the top of Mike's head. They stay like that, wrapped around each other, until — what do you know— Mike stops crying. And then they stay together a little longer.

~~~~~

Weeks ago, on the eve of a previous Dungeon Crawl, Mike had ended up in the car with Steve and Robin on some other godforsaken errand.

When he'd slid himself into the backseat of Steve's car, idling just in front of the station, he'd found Robin and Steve inside yelling at each other. They were always yelling: at each other, at strangers, just for fun. They didn't even notice when he'd slammed the door shut— a little excessively, even for him.

"You don't get it and you won't get it, Harrison—"

"I get the concept! I don't have to agree with it!"

"If you got it you would agree with it!"

"Yeah, yeah. Oh, hey Wheeler." Steve finally glanced back from the passenger's seat. Robin sat on the driver's side. From what Mike understood, this was a rare reversal of roles. Neither addressed it. "We can probably—" He clicked his tongue.

Robin seemed to understand, pulling the car out into the county road.

Steve glanced back again, "So, kid. Do you like Star Trek?"

"I guess?" Mike said. "The original one, or—" There was that new show that had just started airing—The Next Generation. Mike liked it so far, had been trying to keep up with the new episodes.

"The original. You know, Shatner. Beam me up, Scotty," Robin clarified.

"Sure." Then he added, "So? Doesn't everyone? I mean, my mom likes Star Trek."

"Karen Wheeler?" asked Robin, surprised.

"I guess," said Mike, confused at her interest. "She thinks Captain Kirk is cute."

Robin made a face, conveying, fair.

"Okay." Steve interrupted. "So, you like Star Trek. Your mom likes it. But does she go to, you know, conventions about it?"

Robin scoffed, "Hey— Vickie has never actually gone to a Star Trek convention. That was her friend, Tess—"

"Yeah, yeah. The pen pal. That she met writing stories for a fan magazine, you told me." He twisted around. "Have you heard of this?"

"Huh?" Mike felt like he was missing half of the conversation.

"He's making fun of me for— look, my friend, Vickie? She's, like, really into Star Trek. And she got me into it."

"Okay?"

"Steve thinks we're both crazy because of this theory she got me on board with—" Steve looked sharply at her, and she shrugged at him. "It's not like it's underground, Steve. They addressed it in the official Motion Picture novelization. Wheeler can handle it."

He'd rolled his eyes, gesturing, go on.

Robin accepted and barreled ahead, wildly waving around the hand not draped over the steering wheel: "Anyway, Vickie got me into this theory that its proponents call "The Premise", okay?"

"Sure," said Mike.

"You haven't heard about this?" At his shake, no, she went on: "The idea is that Kirk and Spock… Okay, well. The argument goes that they're clearly in love."

Mike gaped at her.

"If you look at the evidence, it's very compelling!" She finished in a rush.

"But they're … friends."

"That's what I said," said Steve.

"You wouldn't say that if you watched a goddamn episode with me, Harrison."

"I've watched episodes." Steve argued.

"Yeah? Any since you were ten?" Robin shot back.

"Look," Steve said, taking a breath. "I don't want to watch science fiction when we're living in a damn science fiction."

"Yeah, yeah," She said.

They turned the final corner onto a dirt road, which Mike knew terminated half a mile up at their destination.

Mike's head was still reeling. "Wha— why do you think…?" He started, then trailed off.

"That they're in love?" Robin perked her head up again, looking back at Mike.

"The road, goddammit."

She swerved back into place, making eye contact with Mike through the rear window ,instead, waiting for his answer.

"I guess," He said, finally.

"The short answer is: because they are. The longer one? I guess it's the way they look at each other— it's… tender. Like, uncomfortably tender. All the fondling, of course. How they keep trying to blow up their careers to save each other, and —"

Mike realized, then, that it had been a long time since he'd watched much Star Trek, trying to place any of the instances Robin listed out. Fondling? All that came to mind in the moment was the latest movie, which had come out the year prior and that he'd gone to see with Will — the one with all the whales.

Robin rambled on, "— I mean, there's that whole episode where Spock goes into heat and has to go home to Vulcan and mate with his wife, you know— like a salmon? Except instead he rolls around with Kirk in the sand and somehow that breaks his blood fever—"

"C'mon. You're exaggerating that," Steve argued.

"Am not, Harrison. Fuck you."

Mike certainly didn't remember that episode of Star Trek.

"Fuck you," Steve echoed, before holding up the map and brandishing it at her. "And slow down. We're almost there."

She stopped the car in front of the little cabin. It was more of a shed, really— flats of wood barely held together with nails. Mike knew there was another, even smaller structure further into the woods they'd need to dig out, as well. And then the tunnel entrance over there, which up until then had mostly been left to erode away.

"Anyway," She'd said, getting out and slamming the driver's door shut. "Let's go find us some guns."

…..

So, when Mike finds a whole box set of the original Star Trek series sitting in a basket in the WSQK basement, right next to the TV and a VHS console, his curiosity is piqued. He's almost alone in the station, save Steve and Robin (again). The two are upstairs running the radio show; at their request, Mike had been helping — if halfheartedly — before hitting his limit on interaction with the pair:

Steve had hung up the telephone with a long suffering sigh:"Babs Geiger called again. She requests—"

"Don't you say it," Robin threatened.

"She requests George Harrison."

"Goddammit. Of course she wants George Harrison."

"She's also a top donor to the WSQK," Steve reminded her.

"Yeah, yeah," Robin groaned, grabbing the tape from the top of a nearby stack. "Introducing Babs to my mother was a mistake— they're egging each other on. I don't think my mom has stopped playing that new album for a second since it came out. I can't take it anymore, Steve," She said, her voice getting higher and shriekier as she went on.

"You can take it one more time… Because it's gonna take money! Gonna take a whole lotta—"

Robin threw a pencil at him, missing him only narrowly. Then, she popped in the tape, put on her mic, and spoke over the fading-out sounds of the last song: "And now we have a request from the great Babette Geiger: Got My Mind Set on You, the lead single from George Harrison's brand new album, Cloud Nine! This one goes out to you, Babs, and to my mother, Margaret Buckley— the former president of West Lafayette's Official Beatles Fan Club. Take it away, George!" She threw off her headset and sat back heavily. A drum beat began to crash through the speakers.

Mike had taken his leave, then: Like Steve and Robin, he found George Harrison was also best taken in small doses.

Now, he has the basement to himself; He feeds one of the Trek tapes — Season Two, the sleeve tells him — into the VCR, telling himself he's just killing the next hour or so, before someone else needs him.

Several hours later finds him perched at the front of his seat, eyes locked on the screen. He's made it through nearly four episodes now and has to admit: Robin had a point. Kirk and Spock really did spend a lot of time gazing at and touching each other.

When he hears feet clomping downstairs, he almost shuts the TV off, purely on instinct. He catches himself: Is he embarrassed? Why should he be? It's just Star Trek.

"You try telling Margaret Buckley to shut off one of the Beatles. This is the same woman who called out of work when John Lennon got shot," Robin's voice carries into the room.

"I'm just saying, you—"

Robin cuts Steve off: "What're you watching there, Wheeler?"

He twists around; Robin is right at the foot of the stairs, Steve just behind her. Her eyes go the screen, then to him, lip curling up in a smirk.

His cheeks go hot under her gaze, feeling — absurdly — like he's been caught out.

"Dustin cannot get that signal fixed and he's driving me crazy. Can I— Oh. Hi, Mike." Will appears at the bottom of the stairs, too. Robin and Steve let him pass, and he makes a beeline over to Mike's couch, where Mike is patting the cushion beside him in invitation.

"How've you been today?" He asks Mike.

Mike shrugs, Okay. "It's been quiet," He adds.

"That's good. You needed it."

He doesn't need anything, he wants to argue. But Will looks so earnest, reaching out — briefly — with a steadying arm, so Mike just says, "I guess," and quirks his lip.

Robin appears again, barely visible in his periphery. "Ding ding ding goes the bell," she sings under her breath, before crashing down on the seat kitty-corner from Mike.

Will sends a barbed gaze her way; Mike follows it and she just smiles innocently in response. Then her gaze flicks back to the TV. "So, what do you think of my theory now, Wheeler? Still think I'm crazy?"

He grunts, noncommittally.

"Come on— have you even gotten to Amok Time, yet? Watch that episode and then tell me what you think."

"I saw it," He says. It had been the first one on the tape, in fact. It also turned out to be the one Robin had mentioned in the car— with the weird Vulcan mating ritual and 'rolling around in the sand' bits. The whole thing had been… intimate.

"What theory?" Will asks, from his end of the sofa.

Steve, setting himself into a disintegrating recliner the other side of Will, answers: "Robin's theory that they're fucking." He tips his head to the screen, where Kirk has a collapsed Spock gently gathered in his arms.

Yeah, fine. Robin has a few points.

"Not so crass as that, Steve. God. I think they're in love." Then she concedes, "And that they're fucking."

Will, Mike notices, has gone a bit pink when he responds, "Ah."

"Well?" Robin prods Mike for his answer.

He hesitates, then gives in. "They do stare at each other a lot."

"Ha!" Robin makes an explosive sort of movement. "I told you."

"What she's leaving out is that she thinks everyone is in love." Steve says. An old TV Guide had been left splayed on the recliner's armrest. Steve picks it up and begins flipping through the pages. "I can't look at anything on TV the same way anymore," He continues. "My mom had The Golden Girls on last week, and all I could think about was your goddamn theory—"

"I can't help that I love love, Steve." She cuts him off. "I'm a romantic, remember?"

"Sure. Ah, here we go." Steve pauses on a page of the Guide, folding it in half and holding it out to the rest of them briefly, ripping it back before Mike can actually see the page. "I'll show you what I mean: '7 Duos of the 70's'." He reads, then clears his throat. "First pair, Starsky and Hutch, of Starsky and Hutch." He looks at Robin, expectant.

"Well, they're obviously in love."

"Right. Alright — Mary and Rhoda; the Mary Tyler Moore Show."

"Also in love."

"Yup. Okay. Oh! We've got two from M*A*S*H, here: Hawkeye and Trapper, and Hawkeye and BJ."

"Well," She considers. "Hawkeye and BJ: for sure in love."

"What? And not Trapper John? Come on."

"Oh, they were hooking up for sure. But love?"

"You're crazy," Steve argues.

Mike isn't overly familiar with M*A*S*H— his father thought the lead actor was a preachy liberal hippie, or something along those lines, so it wasn't a Wheeler Household staple. But he does recall… "Hang on. Wasn't Hawkeye, like, a womanizer?"

"Sure, sure," Robin says. "But he was sort of a man-izer, too."

"Smashed his way through both sides of the camp, is how I believe you phrased it the last time we had this conversation."

"Exactly."

"But—" Mike stopped. "What one did he actually like, then?"

"Both. At least, that's my theory." At Mike's blank expression, she said: "You can like both, you know. Like, bisexual."

"Like David Bowie." Will pipes in. Robin nods at him

"Huh?"

"He's— that is—" Will pinks again. "Well, he's… called himself bisexual. Before."

"Huh." Mike hadn't realized that, though it puts into some perspective why his father wasn't overly keen on Bowie, either. "I guess you would know about that," He says to Will.

Will and Robin both turn their heads sharply to Mike— twin motions. Odd.

He explains, "I just mean— since you read all those music magazines. Like, Rolling Stone, or whatever." Those magazines had been delivered to his own house once a month for the past year and a half.

"Oh," Will says, relaxing. "Right."

"Shit, you get Rolling Stone, Byers? Can I take a look, sometime? I had to cancel my subscription."

Will agrees readily and leads her upstairs to his backpack, where he has the latest copy. Apparently.

Steve remains in the basement with Mike, noisily flipping through the Guide, settling further into his chair with a series of creaks.

Mike tries to turn his attention back to the screen. He wonders if he should re-wind the tape, not sure when the "aliens" of the episode showed up— actors painted red and sporting terrible blond wigs.

Captain Kirk is gazing lovingly at Spock again.

Steve says, "Hmm," under his breath. Mike's focus is broken for good; he glares at Steve, who doesn't notice.

Finally, he asks, "So, you're okay with this?"

"What?" Steve looks up, his expression baffled.

Mike explains, "Will always going off with, you know, your girlfriend."

"What?" His brows furrow further, then relax: "Oh, no. Robin's not my girlfriend," He says, and goes back to the TV Guide in his lap.

"She's not?"

Steve shakes his head, "Nope."

"What? You've never asked her out?"

"No, I did," Steve says.

"Oh." News to Mike. "Really?"

"Uh huh," says Steve.

"And you're still friends?"

"Sure. Robin's the best." He flaps the magazine up in the general direction of Robin upstairs.

"Just not into you," Mike says.

"No," Steve snorts, idly flipping to the next page.

"But she is into Will."

"What?"

"Her and Will," Mike presses.

Steve's expression is bemused. After a considering moment, he rolls the Guide up, pulling himself out of the recliner with a grunt. He saunters up to Mike; "I promise: Robin is not going to steal away your man, Wheeler," then baps him on the head with the rolled-up magazine.

Mike sputters, "My man?"

Already halfway up the stairs, Steve ignores him.

~~~~~~~~~

Time rages on with astonishing speed; their opportunity to break though that wall and into wherever Vecna has hidden himself away— hidden Holly, hidden all those kids — shrinks by the hour, tightening like a noose around their necks.

In the basement of the WSQK, most of their unfortunate crew crowds around an old, re-purposed picnic table. Hopper stands at its head, jamming his finger with every other word into the crinkled, paper map spread over the table.

Because it's Hopper speaking, Mike doesn't feel as bad when his attention wanders. His gaze lands on Lucas, sitting tall and noble as he listens. Mike is struck with the realization that Lucas has gotten very handsome at some point.

Running through his mind the whole last day or so, since he'd been right here, in this basement, with Robin and Will and Steve yesterday: David Bowie. Also, Captain Kirk and Spock. A host of womanizers on TV in love with their best friends, according to Robin.

He lets himself entertain, just a little, what he might think of Lucas if he were, you know, a bisexual. Like David Bowie, apparently. Probably, he'd think Lucas was good-looking— tall and long, sparkling dark eyes. Kind and protective. And it's admirable, how he's been there for Max the past year— at her bedside more afternoons than not, playing that Kate Bush tape so many times that it had snapped. He'd had to replace it with a new one.

This current of thought shifts to Max— first, in her bed at the hospital. Pale and shadowed under fluorescent lights. He forces himself to remember her as she was: Vibrant. Funny. And yes, pretty. Mike, however, has never been into her, exactly, and he's sure she feels the same. They'd always bickered like siblings, not two teens dancing around a crush. He thinks, now, about trying to kiss her and cringes; she'd deck him before he could even lean in.

Would Mike, in this scenario, be willing to kiss Lucas? He probes the thought. Finds he's not repulsed by the idea.

He goes around the table with this in mind: Dustin, glowering at his own hands, curly hair falling into his eyes. Mike thinks, yeah, sure. I could kiss him, too.

El, next to Dustin, watching Hop devise his plan with her head cocked to one side. El is pretty. Of course she's pretty. Mike has kissed her plenty of times and it was… good. Being close to her was good. He always feels safe around El. At the same time: when she'd broken up with him for good last year, he hadn't been all that upset. He kept expecting the anguish, which everyone said would hit him when he least expected it, and yet it never had hit. And hugging as friends, it turned out, was less awkward than kissing as a couple had been.

He moves his gaze on to Joyce and Hopper: old. He skips over them. Nancy: Gross. This isn't Alabama. Jonathon? Gross for about the same reason as Nancy — they've been together so long now, he's practically Mike's brother. Does that make Will his brother too? The idea nags at him, so he shoves it away.

Between Jonathon and Mike, there's Steve. Steve, Mike has to admit, is not so bad to look at. He gets why all the girls like him— his poufy hair and easy swagger. Though he's annoying as hell, too.

A noise, then: Robin and Will clambering down the stairs, faces flushed, grabbing at each other with their excitement.

"Erica saw—"

"You have to hear what Erica found out!"

The two of them speak over each other, out of breath. Will steadies Robin when she nearly tips over in her enthusiasm, and the intimacy of it makes Mike's stomach hurt a little.

A chorus of "Tell us, goddammit!" prompts Robin into a rapid-fire explanation —Will filling in blanks the rare moments she stops to inhale: Erica had watched a military convoy drive in from outside Hawkins, presumably replacing their fallen comrades. Then, she'd watched them pull out a girl from inside the base and shove her inside one of the newly arrived SUVs.

"Kali!"

"Who?"

"My sister!" El reminds Jonathon murderously.

There's more that Erica had learned, and Mike listens— of course he does. But he also considers, for the purposes of his exercise, what he thinks of Robin. She's… tall. Which is cool. He guesses he likes her hair, too— ruffled, sort of edgy. And he appreciates that she's a nerd, like he and all his friends are. Could he like Robin enough to kiss her? He tries to imagine it and fails, feeling uneasy.

But, he supposes he understands what Will might see in her.

And Will?

Of course, Will is cute: practically half the girls in their grade have crushes on him, a number which had doubled after he'd returned from the stint in California, tanned and… broad. His arms and shoulders got muscular, which is unfair because he hardly does any more physical activity than Mike.

And of course, Will is nice and talented at everything. He also makes Mike laugh, because he can secretly be kind of mean when he wants to be. And he has a nice smile and is a good hugger. So, if Mike were someone that likes boys, would he like Will?

A vivid image strikes him, unbidden: Clambering over the table, knocking Dustin and Lucas aside, him grabbing Will with both hands by the face. Pulling him in for a kiss right there, right on the mouth in front of everyone. Stomach swooping, he forces the image from his brain and averts his gaze from Will. He hopes no one notices the sudden flush in his cheeks.

Where were they? Right: Kali.

~~~~~~

"Clang clang clang goes the trolley," Robin hums from the door.

"Shut up," Will implores.

Mike silently agrees. She'd just interrupted a nice moment between Will and himself.

"Joyce wants you, kid," She tells Will, who winces. "Yeah, yeah. Go talk to your mom."

Will grumbles but leaves.

Mike returns to his original task: fumbling with broken walkies until they're halfway-usable again. Dustin is better at this, for sure, but that's why they have him on the more important task of making sure the radios and the van's satellite — their base of operations — are up to snuff.

Robin shuffles her feet from the doorway. He ignores her until he can't, anymore: "I still think you're too old for him," he says.

"Huh?" She says.

He barrels on: "But if you guys are going to be a thing, then just… don't hurt him, okay? He's my best— he's a really good person."

She stares at him, as if in disbelief.

"I don't want to see him hurt. So, if you hurt him? Well…" He can't think of a threat, so finishes, lamely, with, "Just don't hurt him, okay?"

Another beat, and then Robin snorts. " I promise you, kid. I am not, have not, will not come on to Will." At Mike's unbelieving look, "He's, like, a baby."

Mike sputters at that. "Then why do you spend so much time together all of a sudden?"

"Do you think Dustin and Steve are hooking up?"

"…What?"

She sighs, "We're friends, Mike."

Mike pauses. Fine. Maybe he sees her point. But— "Why the sudden interest, though?"

"I don't know," Robin shrugs. "He's a good hang, for one; you know that." She smiles when Mike frowns. "And… I guess I see a bit of myself in him, you know? I don't want him to struggle the same ways I did."

"What does that mean— You see yourself in him?"

"Questionable taste, for one." She gives him an up-and-down, and Mike bristles. "You know, I was going to give you the same talk."

"Huh?"

"The 'Don't hurt him or I'll kill you' Talk."

"What? To me? Why?"

She waves her hand, "You're important to him. I think… you hold a lot more power over him than you realize. Just be careful with him, okay?"

Mike frowns. "He's important to me, too."

Her gaze softens. "Yeah. I think he is." A beat. "You know, you had that episode of Star Trek on and I realized what those two — Spock and Kirk — remind me of, a bit. You two: Will and you. I think you'd do anything for each other."

Silence. Mike tries to think; fails.

"You look at him the same way, too."

He stares at her.

"Just food for thought," She says, finally. Then she leaves.

Mike stares some more.

~~~~

There's a lot going on. He's in the Upside Down, with Will, snaking several dozen feet behind Nancy and Jonathon forging a path up ahead.

Joyce had not been happy about the decision to bring Will down here. Unfortunately for Joyce, it had been her against everyone else. Will, who was eager to help, had powers now, which made him pretty indispensable for their final plan.

Unfortunately for Mike, he has the walkie, which means he's been subject to Joyce's anxieties for the past two hours.

"He's still fine, Mrs. Byers. Over," he says, gritting his teeth.

Will grabs the walkie from him. "I'm fine, mom," he echoes.

But perhaps they've spoken prematurely: no sooner has Will handed the walkie back to Mike is he tensing: "Get down!" He hisses, shoving Mike out of the way.

Something dives out of the underbrush, snarling. Before either of them can properly react, there's a bang. The attacking creature jolts off to the side. Mike looks ahead— there's Nancy: shotgun propped steadily from her shoulder, the end smoking slightly. She nods at Mike and he nods back.

A sound like wet Velcro ripping erupts, and Mike is showered with something oozing. Several somethings. When he turns to look at Will, again, Will is standing with his hand splayed out, towards what is now a pile of debris. Evidently, he'd taken advantage of Nancy's distraction.

"Damn," says Mike, unable to help himself.

The carnage is impressive.

"Yeah," agrees Will. He turns to face Mike. "I— shit. Sorry," he says, stepping close and scrubbing at Mike's face with his jacket sleeve. "I didn't realize you were in the— uh, the splash zone." The sleeve comes away from Mike's face a glistening black.

Mike chases Will's arm as it pulls away, just for a second, until he catches himself. Maybe he's a little dazed. "Don't be sorry," says Mike, too soft. He coughs and shakes his head. "I mean, that's a pretty impressive trick, Will. Will the Wise."

Will shrugs, his face reddening. "Yeah, well." His head tips sideways, then, his gaze going distant.

"Will?"

His gaze clears and his shoulders square. Grabbing at Mike's arm, he steps forward resolutely: "We need to get going."

Mike lets himself be tugged along.

He thinks, if he was one of those bisexual types, he'd just missed a good moment to kiss Will.

…….

The barrage of slimy, wet creatures ramps up as they continue their journey. Nancy Wheeler, sharpshooter, and Will Byers, Superman, keep most of them at bay. Still, they're all pretty scratched up by the time they're at the wall.

It's less of a wall and more of a thick, pulsing membrane, Mike realizes when they arrive. It reminds him of when they'd dissected the pig in biology, last year: Their teacher holding up each slick organ in a gloved hand, tissue still pink though the pig had been dead and soaking in formaldehyde for days by then. The small, white masses clumping along the membranous wall remind him of eggs: "Look, class! She must have been pregnant when she passed," their teacher had said, letting everyone crowd in to look as he sliced open the uterus, revealing the two, minuscule fetuses curled up inside. He'd had to step outside, sick at the sight. Will had stayed.

They set up explosives around the base of the wall. This is their contingency plan, especially if El doesn't succeed at her own task. But then — there she is, blood crusted under her nose and Kali in tow. She hugs Will first, who sags in relief against her. Then she comes to Mike and grabs him by the shoulder. "Thank you for keeping him safe," she says.

"Of course."

She hugs him and he squeezes back, tight.

Things happen quickly after that: El, Kali, and Will start in on the wall together, triplet superheroes. He and Jonathon decide, with a silent look, to enact their contingency plan for good measure, and set off most of the explosives.

It works, because of course it does. The wall, when it splits apart, is as goopy as everything else that's exploded on Mike these past few days. Behind it is a dizzying scene: two images superimposed on top of one another. An idyllic forest, bright greens under a blue sky. Beyond that a house coated in fresh paint. Yet at the same time, it's a hell-scape— red rock everywhere and air thick with motes of black dust, lit up by constant bolts of lightning.

"Come on," Will says, and Mike feels every bit of contact when Will wraps his fingers around Mike's hand and pulls.

"We're in," He puts the walkie to his lips, remembering to update Joyce. "We— Will is safe." He says.

Vecna, when they find him, is the same superimposition as everything else: both the fibrous monstrosity that Mike remembers from before, and at the same time, a boy. Just a handsome boy, staring at Will like he's a puzzle piece that he can't yet place.

There's some monologuing, which Mike mostly tunes out, set on guarding Will from the slinky, shifting shapes lurking at the edge of the woods.

Until Will goes rigid beside him:

"And you, already so alone," Vecna is crooning. "How alone will you be when they find out? When he finds about you? How you really feel—"

"Shut up!" Will says.

"All the things you fantasize about," Vecna continues.

The double-image —the boy underneath the monster — has faded away, and now Mike can see only the nightmare in front of him. Mike folds himself nearer to Will, hoping to offer a modicum of comfort.

Vecna looks at them both, considering. "Will he still let you hang on so closely, Will? When he knows?"

"What's he talking about?" Mike asks.

Will steps apart decisively from Mike. "Nothing," He says.

Vecna goes on: he knows what it's like to be ostracized, Will Byers. He knows what it is to be weak and alone. While he speaks, the branch-like sinew he's made of waves around him in gentle, dizzying motions.

Mike edges in closer to Will, who edges further away.

"I offer you a different path. With me you can be strong. When all that you love abandons you, what will it matter? Because what is a mortal — fleas — to gods like us—"

This is where Mike cuts him off: "You shitting asshole," he says, then steps forward and aims the pistol Nancy had given him. Shoots.

He gets a millisecond to celebrate making the shot, right through the mass of gristle that makes up Vecna's horrible chest. Then, there are vines wrapping around him, vicing around his neck until he chokes.

"You, Mike Wheeler, are a flea," Vecna says disdainfully, righting himself. The hole in his chest closes before Mike's eyes.

"Fuck you," He gasps.

"Mike!" Will says, horrified. He steps closer and Vecna shoves him off with a flick of the hand. He flies back and hits one of the stumpy masses, which rise out of the rocky clearing like stalagmites, with a thump.

Mike cringes, as much as he's able to. But then Vecna is turning his attention back to Will, and Mike can't let that happen. Especially when Will is only barely starting to stir, slumped on the ground in a terrible heap.

"Hey, you ugly fuck. Look at me!" Not his most subtle, but effective— Vecna whips his attention to Mike and the vines tighten. "You're such a piece of shit. Who kidnaps little kids?" Mike keeps going, hardly aware of what he's saying. However, he watches Will closely, who — finally — staggers to his feet, stumbling up behind Vecna undetected. "Ugly, nasty, creepy," He chokes around the vines.

When Will is close enough, Mike meets his eyes, widening his own to say, "You can do this."

Will tightens his jaw, nods, then steps up and grabs Vecna by the shoulder. He winces at the contact. Vecna stumbles; clearly, this contact pains him too. "He'll hate you," He spits at Will, venomous. "You disgust him!"

To Mike, it seems like he's reaching, desperate. Will, though, steps back and grabs at his head. "Please stop," He groans, dropping to his knees. "Don't—show me—"

"What—" He can hardly make any noise now, practically strangled. "Will, what does he mean?"

"I can't—" Will looks at him desperately. He looks as terrified as Mike has ever seen him.

Mike's thinking is this: if Will can just tell him what Vecna means —whatever it is that he's so scared of — Vecna won't be able to use it against him anymore. "Nothing you say—" He tries to say, coughing violently. Eventually, he manages to gasp out: "Best thing that I ever did, 'member?"

Will looks at him, really looks at him. Then, like he's finally digested the idea, he nods to Mike, swallows, and tightens his jaw. He stands up straight when he turns to face Vecna: "Okay, alright. I'm a… a queer. A homo. Whatever!" He spits out the words like they hurt, then takes a deep breath: "And I'm in love with my own damn stupid best friend. So there. I said it, and now he knows. And even if I'm all alone because of it? That doesn't mean I'm anything like you… Dipshit!"

There's an impressive battle, then. Mike thinks. He doesn't have quite enough air supply at this point to follow it, nor to think much about what Will had confessed. But Will is leaking blood from every visible orifice and he looks very cool. Like an action hero.

A gritty, hot, sexy action hero.

When he comes to, things are quiet. Will is poking nervously at his shoulder. "Wuh?" He asks, groggy.

Will jerks back a respectable distance. Mike, instead, yanks him back in by his lapel, which makes Will lose his balance and fall on top of Mike. When he tries to pull off, Mike wraps his arms around him and squeezes. The weight of him against Mike feels nice, despite the aching pressure left behind at his throat.

"You— uh—"

Mike interrupts him, "Shh."

"Wh—" Will cuts himself off, sighs, and hesitantly wraps his arms around Mike in turn.

After a minute (or an hour. Mike can't be sure), Will does get off, clambering to his feet. He leans down and grabs Mike by both forearms, gently helping him upright.

Face to face, Mike can see that he's nervous— looking at him like Mike is a skittish horse, about to bolt over what Will had revealed. And, well:

Mike is surprised, now that oxygen has returned to his brain, and he can turn over in his mind what Will had said. If Will liked…

Well, maybe then if Mike liked…

He can't quite finish the thought. Will is too distracting, staring at him like that. His hair ruffled out of place, clothes torn. Blood— blood everywhere. Mike reaches out to a smear under Will's eye, trying to scrub it away with a finger.

Anxiety boiling over, clearly, Will steps back for the thousandth time. "Look. I'm sorry, Mike. I'll get over it."

Mike wants to say something reassuring. Instead, what comes out is: "So, you and Robin really aren't a thing, then?"

Will snorts, disbelieving, eyes still wide. "No?"

"Oh." He replies. "Good."

"Good?" Will squints, that way he does when he's confused, and which makes Mike's stomach swoop and want to pinch Will's cheeks all at once.

He's aware, suddenly, of the dopey grin on his face. Is this what Robin had meant? When she'd said he and Will look at each other like Kirk and Spock do: impossibly fond? The comparison had made him feel flayed open and on display. But, he feels the truth of it, unable to help himself from smiling widely at Will . And he can't be embarrassed about it, because Will returns his gaze with an even broader smile.

Will has such a nice smile.

And if Mike liked boys— oh, fuck it.

He grabs Will by the face and smashes their lips together. Not his best, but it gets the point across. Will, for his part, takes only a moment to respond, and when he does he gives as good as he gets.

"You don't have to get over it," Mike says, when they break apart to breathe.

"Oh," says Will, looking a bit dazed.

"Just saying," Mike adds.

"Cool," says Will.

Mike kisses him again.

~~~~~

As it turns out, the whole thing isn't over— even with Vecna dead.

But, for now, at least he has Will at his side.