Chapter Text
Mike sits by the fire and smiles over at the chaotic tableaux of the people he loves.
Holly is sitting on a bar stool by the counter trying to decorate her cake with cream, whipped by yours truly, and a bowl full of mixed berries. Nancy is standing next to her, a wine glass poised between the fingers of one hand. Her other, cream tipped fingers being swat at by Holly as she tries to pilfer the carefully placed berries from their designated places in Holly’s spice-cake-court.
Joyce is behind them frantically buzzing around a slightly calmer Hopper in the kitchen, waving a knife in his direction and trying to explain something through his disgruntlement. Joyce had insisted on making dinner for them all and Mike is forever grateful for whoever suggested Hopper supervise, saving them from awkward pretence later tonight.
“Ow!” Mike protests, in sudden response to a particularly merciless tug of his hair, eyes welling.
“Stop moving your head, Mike.” Max retorts, somehow managing to use his name as effectively as an insult and purposefully yanking at his unwashed and disgustingly tangled hair.
Mike throws a pathetic and pitiful glance at Will who is sitting knees up in an armchair in front of him. Will being the unloyal, double-crossing rat that he is, only cast him a lazy ‘you deserve this’ face, before returning his attention to his top-secret artist man sketch book that he is stubbornly and regrettably refusing to show anyone.
“Now you can understand what my life is like!” Lucas sighs dramatically from the sofa. His hair is somehow adorned with an impressive number of ribbons, despite how short it is, which makes Mike shudder at the potential his own shoulder-length tangle presents.
“Shut up before you say something stupid.” Max cautions, in what Mike thinks is probably a playful tone, hopefully. “And sit up, that couch isn’t just for you to inhabit.”
Lucas says nothing, but stretches his limbs out further and smiles in cheeky contentedness.
Jonathan’s camera and Jonathan’s attention, currently documenting ‘Holly’s Spice-cake-court vs the formidable Nancy ‘cream fingers’ Wheeler’ turns abruptly as the door flies open.
“WHATS UP MOTHER FUCKERS!” Robin swoops into action, contributing her own special touch to the already chaotic ecosystem of the party’s annual holidays get together. A weekend full of way too much food, way too many people, way too much drinking and melancholy reminiscing, a product that sets it apart from normal festivities.
Behind her, like a strange band of ducklings, trail an anxious and bashful looking Vickie, a collected, dorky, and dad-bodded Steve, a grumpy Murray wearing his most welcoming and sarcastic smile, and most importantly a studious but overwhelmingly excited Dustin.
“DUSTIN” Mike, Will, Max and Lucas shout in unison. Tangling over each other to reach him. He drops his two, disgusting looking and smelly duffle bags and receives the attack head on. Open-armed and toothy-grinned.
There is momentary cacophony as everyone in the room collides to make a supernova of greetings. Through the anarchy Mike meets Steve’s maternal gaze.
“Hey Mini Wheeler, like what you’ve done with the hair, the ribbons suit you.” There’s no need to hug him, as Mike literally saw him yesterday, and nearly every other day for the past two years since nearly everyone else left Hawkins, but he does anyway.
And then Steve is whisked away, and Mike is suddenly faced with Robin.
“Mike, hello, it’s so good to see you!” she says, pulling him into a hug. “I hope you know I am obsessed with your book, and I will not shut up about it.” To which Vickie gives him a slightly peeved, confirming eyebrow raise.
“Really?” He says pulling out of the awkward hug to look at her. He’s a little worried because Robin is really smart, and he’s hoping she didn’t read too much into the accidental subtext of the main couple.
“Hell yeah! My favourite character is the daring and boisterous Raven Song! and if you ask me, I think her and the undercover druid, Lorren Keetlings were the real stars. Oh, and I need it to be known that I clocked that the wise, young Philwel and Mika the courageous were secretly in love with each other from the first fricking chapter!” At this, Robin gives Mike a wink and his face gets real hot.
Ah shit, who did he think he was fooling, he never should have published that book. Of course everyone was going to see right through it. But then Mike remembers the reason he even wrote it in the first place. The secrets hidden in the dedication. The plan he had devised late one night, in the house he grew up in.
Mike looks towards the door. Unmoving since the hectic new arrivals barged their way through it. Everyone who had promised to come was here now. Almost everyone.
“WILL EVERYONE STOP YELLING!” Yells Murray. “I already have a cracking headache from spending 6 hours in the car with those three IDIOTS over there and Vickie.”
This invokes an amused stirring from the others, and outright laughter from some, which ripple effects into a disgruntled look from Murray.
They all sit down for dinner about an hour or so later, maybe it’s more like two, Mike’s terrible at keeping track. During these one to possibly even three hours, Jonathan assists the new arrivals in finding a place to sleep and giving them a house tour.
Once Holly is finished with the cake, she and Vickie join Max on the mission to braid and ribbonify anyone they deem as having ‘unsuitable hair’. Which is pretty much everyone except for themselves, Joyce, Steve, Nancy and somehow, Will, who has apparently retired from his bowl cut days, and now proudly wears a good, mature example of ‘I just woke up like this’, and he does, admittedly look really fucking good. Hopper also gets an exemption, mostly because he is busy with food preparations, but also, partly because he is terrifying.
They struggle with the food. Most of it is, surprisingly, really good, but no matter how many of them there are and how much they all stuff themselves, there is just way too much of it. They eat and digest the food in another deafening cacophony, as if silence is the worst thing that could befall the party, and everyone has been secretly tasked with making sure they never have to hear it in each other’s company again. But by the time the food has been packed away and they’ve all managed to squish themselves into the living room around the fire, something about the feeling of stuffed digestive systems or the warmth from the fire lulls them into a comfortable peace. A sentiment Mike greatly appreciates, as he is not used to or equipped to deal with this level of exposure to the lives and noise of other human beings.
Its during this relaxed serenity that there are three rhythmic knocks on the door. Tap, tap tap. The others get the opportunity to immediately un-relax and look at each other with a mixture of fear, shock and hopeful wonder. They don’t know what Mike knows, however. They don’t know about the secret.
Before anyone else can react, he is on his feet and at the door. And his heart is beating fast, too fricking fast and there are already tears reddening the edges of his gaze because holy shit! His plan actually worked, he knows who is on the other side of that door before he can even bring himself to open it. And then it is open, and he can hear the recoil from the rest of the room. Can feel the moment when all hope turns to confirmation but not quite acceptance.
“El!” Mike makes out through the tears, because who else’s name could he possibly shout while throwing himself at the superhero that landed on his doorstep, his first girlfriend and second heartbreak, the sister to the two most talented artists I know, the daughter to the man and woman who lost too much and made sacrifices too big, the girl who’s saved the world so many times Mike’s lost count, and the one thing that has been missing from their lives for the past two and a bit years.
El accepts Mike’s hug with a sob-soaked giggle and a hiccup.
“Mike.”