Work Text:
Working with Max wasn’t an intentional choice. Mike had been walking laps around the shiny, new mall with his family. Starcourt was a diamond in a glass box, the crown gem of their dinky worn down town. Through the crowd, his mom had somehow spotted the ‘NOW HIRING’ sign pasted on the ice cream parlor window. She gently hinted that he should get a summer job, then his dad not-so-gently told him to get a summer job.
Whatever, it was fine, a little pocket money never hurt anyone. He was only slightly discouraged by the horror stories he had overheard from Joyce about working minimum wage at Melvald’s. Slinging ice cream couldn’t be that hard though. Scoop a couple cones, smile at the kid, wave them off? Easy enough. Apparently, Max had the same idea.
First day on the job, he was greeted by Max Mayfield, who was ten minutes late and in a uniform equally as stupid looking as his. Unlike Dustin and Lucas, they weren’t applying to all the same places and crossing their fingers. In fact, he didn’t even know that she had her work permit. They probably had the least chemistry out of every pairing in their group, neither of them particularly interested in putting in the effort to get to know each other beyond what was already there.
Working six hour shifts four days a week with nothing better to do tends to change that though. Max was funnier than he remembered, and a surprisingly enjoyable presence. He would drag his feet on shifts without her, the constant noise of the shop bell jingling and toddlers shouting over each other being a much more miserable weight without someone to exchange an exasperated look with.
Scheduling their hours together turned into telling Nancy to pick him up later so they could eat more free ice cream then they were allowed to take and talk about nothing specific. It was a good routine, comfortable and easy.
Of course, nothing comfortable or easy ever lasted for them. It was kind of funny at least. Only they could get hired at an ice cream parlor and not even two months in end up wrapped in top-secret foreign government affairs. Although, it was hard to laugh at when they were hunched over in adjacent bathroom stalls, vomiting their guts out as a side effect of the unidentified serum that had been pumped into their systems.
He kept having the recurring idea that they should search for Holly and Derek but the thought came fleetingly, grains of sand slipping past his fingers before he could form a plan around it. The sensation of his bloody, sweat sodden clothes sticking to his body and fluorescent lights casting an irritating, sterile glow above them was a louder noise in the front of his mind.
Mike balled up a piece of toilet paper, mopping up the saliva and puke sticking to his mouth. He winced inwardly, as he dragged over the split in his lip, praying it wouldn’t get infected. Dropping the tissue into the toilet bowl, he gave it a good flush and watched his last two meals get sucked away. His throat was torn and scraped raw, stinging every time he drew in a breath through his gritted teeth.
“The ceiling stopped spinning for me,” Max commented with a new rasp. Mike woke up a little, fanning away the fog settling on his brain. This inspired him to lazily dip his head back, watching the glossy tile above him. He lingered like that for a moment. His depth perception was definitely fucked from currently having only one eye that wasn’t swollen shut, but the ceiling was no longer a vast expanse of swimming textures.
Mike partially expected his voice to not come out at all. “Yeah, same here,” He croaked, equally as gravelly as her. “Did we barf it all out yet?”
“Hm, maybe,” She offered. “Ask me a question. Some Russian interrogation shit.”
He spat the first question he could scrape together, searching for the sobering, more grounded shreds of his logic that were fading back into view, “Okay, okay, uh… were you scared? During all of this?”
“Damn, real hard-hitters here,” Max deadpanned.
He groaned, rolling his eyes as if she’d be able to see it. “Look, it’s a miracle I can even think of a question. I’m probably concussed in like, seven different parts of my brain.”
“There’s no way that’s how that works.”
“Just answer the question.”
“Okay, geez. Honestly? Not really,” Max said. “I was way too high on adrenaline. Then drugs.” She let out an airy chuckle before pausing. “Well actually, I was fine until they brought out the bone saw.”
Mike snickered involuntarily although it really wasn’t that funny.
“I’m serious!” She laughed. “I thought you were about to start losing fingers!”
They fizzled into light giggles that bordered on hysterical. A warmth bubbled in his chest that made it easier to stomach the sharpness that was prickling through the rest of his body.
“Alright, my turn now,” Max decided as their laughter started to wind down.
Mike grinned, thoroughly amused. “This better be good.”
“Have you ever… been in love?” She mused, voice loose and languid. His smile dropped, lips parting tentatively for words that he didn’t have. Max filled in the blanks for him. “Wait, nevermind, stupid question. I know the answer to that one.”
He scoffed half-heartedly, the noise hurting his throat. “Do you?”
“Mhm,” She affirmed. “Unless you and El spent two years being the most disgusting couple ever for literally no reason.”
A shaky exhale ripped from him, loud against the stillness of the bathroom. Max fell quiet for a beat before she pushed a little more, a strange carefulness underneath her tone.
“She’s been talking about you a lot lately. Wanting to visit our shifts more too. I know she says that she wants to see me, but it’s really you who she’s looking at the whole time.”
Mike stared at his shoes and tried to form a response but his conscience was fading into a stream of incoherent white noise. Ignoring the sinking guilt threading through him, Mike gathered himself and quietly strategized. If he played this right, maybe she’d get frustrated and lose interest. He tried to feign a detached ungratefulness. Pretended he didn’t see where this conversation was going even though they could both hear it in the distance like a train thundering down its tracks.
Mike was still too high to suppress the way his voice shook when he first pushed it out, “Are you seriously trying to set me up right now?”
“Ugh, does this count as setting up?”
“Sure seems like it. Thirteen-year-old Max would be so disappointed."
“Well, thirteen-year-old Max isn’t here right now,” She scoffed, unimpressed. “Or thirteen-year-old Mike, luckily. Y’know, you used to be a real pain in the ass. Like, just the loudest, clingiest dork.”
“Wow, thanks.” He retorted dryly.
“But, this summer– I don’t know. Something’s different with you. You’re more self-assured. And caring, not just fucking possessive. You’re smart too, that’s something I didn’t know. I didn’t expect Mike Wheeler to be the one to crack a secret Russian code.”
He couldn’t make himself say anything. Scrubbing a hand down the less bruised side of his face, he held his breath, dipping his forehead into his knees.
“Mike?’ She knocked on the stall, sharp taps echoing through the room. “Did you OD in there?”
“Nope,” He breathed, sitting up slightly. “I’m… still alive.”
That effectively killed the noise, hollowing out space for a bout of silence. The soles of her converse squeaking as she adjusted, Max slid under the partition dividing the stalls, disheveled braids grazing the tile as she reclined backwards.
Mike wrinkled his nose as she propped herself up. “Sick. This floor is definitely covered in piss.”
“Yeah, well we’re already soaked in blood and vomit,” She sighed, pressing her shoes to the space on the wall next to his shoulder. Pursing her lips, she thought for a second before meeting his eyes. “You do get what I’m trying to say here? You’re not that oblivious, right?”
“Maybe,” he muttered, wringing his hands. “This Mike guy sounds pretty cool though.”
Breathing out something between a groan and chuckle, Max shook her head. “Don’t play dumb. I’m not blind. I see the way you guys act around each other. It’s not like how it used to be. You’re both more… relaxed. Natural.”
Max must’ve noticed the way his eyebrows pinched together because she added, “I can tell you still love her. It’s fine. I get that— being scared to say the words.” The dread swirling in his stomach only grew more acidic. They were at the end of the rope. He was cornered and had to say something with any actual meaning. There were too many things he could confess, but none of them she would like.
“I do love her,” He said, soft and truthful. His heart sank a little at the satisfaction pulling the corners of her mouth. “But you don’t understand. Working here– with you, has been great. I know we’ve been closer lately, but that doesn’t mean you know me, Max. Really know me. And if you did-” He swallowed thickly. “I don’t think you’d want to be my friend anymore.”
“Try me,” She shot back, unwavering and fully sincere. It felt like a challenge even though she didn’t frame it like one. She was simply opening her arms in a way that was so painfully Max. Searching her face one more time, he studied the way she looked right before he destroyed this.
“Remember how… when the Byers moved away I was totally bummed that they would never pick up the phone?” Mike began cautiously.
Max snorted. “Yeah. It was the only thing you could talk about for like, two weeks.”
“It wasn’t because I wanted to talk to El. I wanted to talk to Will,” He forced out, watching the way her expression faltered, melting into confusion. “And it was stupid because I could’ve just sent a letter, but everything I wrote was so dumb and- and sappy. What was even stupider was that I wanted to hear his voice. I wanted to talk to him, because talking to him was always easy.” He sucked in a breath, somehow feeling winded. Rubbing a thumb over his knuckles, Mike tried to focus on the tactile details. “But the main thing was that over the phone there’s no lines you can read in between. I was scared that… that he’d be able to see it if I wrote it down.”
“See what?” She wasn’t getting it.
The urge to vomit returned. Maybe she was already thinking it, but was giving him the benefit of the doubt because that was too absurd of a conclusion. He was going to have to guide her all the way to the cliff at the end of the trail.
“How much I needed him.” He felt the drop in his stomach.
It tore as it spilt out of him, words bittering as they hung in the air. It was bigger than needing him. It was the thousands of times he tried not to think about it, thousands of times he had physically forced himself to look away or sat on his hands to suffocate the urge to do something stupid. The thousand and one excuses he made to twist it, justify it, because it couldn’t possibly be that. All the turns he took wouldn’t change the destination. Taking the long route only made the journey drag on. Beneath his armor, Mike knew there was only one true north. He didn’t feel especially emboldened, just anxious and a bit desperate to cough up the thing that had been thrashing and ripping at him from the inside of his ribcage where no one could see it. A weak proclamation of the feelings that had ruined his life.
Her mouth dropped open, just slightly, eyes wide and uneasy.
“But… Will’s a boy.”
A statement heavy as it is true. Mike wet his lips, unshed tears burning his entire face.
“Max…” He muttered faintly.
A brief, incredulous smile flickered across her features, like she was waiting for the punchline. “Yeah??”
Mike just stared at her through tired, unblinking eyes. His heart was thrumming so violently in his ears that he was convinced she could hear it too.
“Oh shit,” She breathed, face slackening with realization.
“Oh shit,” he echoed.
And now she wouldn’t look at him. Her gaze was faraway, boring into the scab knitting over her scraped knee. The silence was agonizing and gnawing in a way Mike had never experienced outside of standoffs with death. He was itching to jab the toe of his shoe into her side, prodding her until she responded, or pushed him away, or said anything. He wondered if she’d even let him touch her anymore.
At least she’s not yelling or running. That was the best reassurance he could slap together right now. Though maybe she was analyzing her escape routes like he was. Maybe the fuse just hadn’t reached its end yet.
“You still there?” He tried to tease, but it just came out small and anxious. Mike hoped he wasn’t shivering although he definitely was. “Did you OD?”
“No,” Max said distantly. Her chin tipped back up, eyes refocused on his face. “No. It’s just– Will is totally out of your league.”
Mike blinked. Brain not working fast enough to decode if that was a genuine insult, he sputtered out a dumb, “Huh?”
She didn’t pause or stutter. “I can’t say you have bad taste though. He’s been to hell and back and is still the nicest guy I know. And he’s amazing at art? You know how to pick ‘em, dude.”
Heavily weighing the idea that Max was mocking him right now, Mike’s shoulders went rigid in defense. Was she ever this nice? Or– cruel, maybe?
“I know how to pick ‘em?” He repeated, still caught in a stupor and afraid that giving back any words that weren’t her own would supply new ammunition.
“Yeah, you do. I don’t know how I didn’t consider this option before. You have all the history and shit. Plus, you’re on the same level of nerdiness too! You could have your DND characters makeout or whatever.”
Mike’s face heated abruptly, this time with something completely different from shame.
“What?? I- We wouldn’t– we don’t even do romance subplots!” He protested, definitely sounding like more of a loser than he ever had in his life. Finding him completely ridiculous, Max threw her head back, laughing so hard that her entire body quaked with the sound. Even as he resisted, Mike was smiling wide enough to make his cheeks hurt. “It- it takes away from the action!”
“No, because Will absolutely would’ve agreed with you,” She said, playful and fully breathless.
From that thought, Mike was now folding over and sharing her laughter, the type that came from so deep in the chest that it made no noise except delirious, squeaky gasps. As the room filled with the ugly, but undeniably genuine sound, it finally hit him.
The storm wasn’t coming.
Max was still here, sending unguarded smiles and teases like Mike was the same exact boy he was before they were crammed into this stall, spilling their guts in more ways than one. She didn’t try to peel back any more layers. Didn’t stare at him like he was a Rubik’s cube that had gotten twisted beyond solving. Instead, she had wrapped her arms around his sharpest, scariest truth in a way he had never dreamed of doing himself. For a moment, Mike seriously considered that Max Mayfield might be his blood sister, no spit pact needed.
Suddenly, the door was flung open, his actual blood sister bursting through with Derek trailing behind her and the most displeased look scrunched into her face.
“Oh my god– you jerks!” Holly shouted, throwing her arms up in disbelief.
Max glanced back at him, jaw slightly agape with something knowing and a tad sheepish spreading across her face. Then she snickered, erupting back into the same delirium and Mike couldn’t help but follow it. Leaning into the point where her legs met the wall, he reveled in the new understanding that buzzed through the space between them. His breaths came in wheezes, but they felt like the first real ones he had taken in years.