Chapter Text
“I don’t remember what it’s like to feel well-rested. Sleep? Never knew her.”
“It’s only one, you big baby,” Lucas said as he swatted a drowsy Dustin’s arm. “Suck it up and drink more soda.”
“Maybe don’t? Diabetes is still a very real danger, and the last thing we need is to not be able to eat junk without risking actual death,” Will said as he pulled a handful of pretzels out of a family-sized bag and shoved the contents into his mouth.
“Look who’s talking!” Lucas scoffed as he tossed a pillow at Will. He simply dodged it and smiled impishly as he reached back into his bag.
“I think I can feel my cheeks more than usual,” Eleven said softly with half-lidded eyes as she gingerly patted her face.
“What a lightweight,” Lucas sighed, shaking his head as he downed another neon-colored soda before letting out a hefty belch, to which Dustin wrinkled his nose to.
“I have never seen a single digit on a clock before at night. Only in the afternoons. It’s surreal,” Eleven mumbled, dragging her hands down her face as she slouched down the couch cushions.
“You’ll get used to it, sis. Especially with these boneheads.”
“I don’t want to get used to it. I want to sleep.”
Mike laughed and put down the controller to his new NES system(a generous birthday gift from his older sister), and sat down next to Eleven as she hummed softly to herself, her fatigue evident. He grabbed her wrists, which hung limp as he wiggled them around for a second.
“What’re you doin’?” Eleven mumbled before Mike began to softly smack her cheeks with her own hands.
“Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself? Why are you hitting yourself?” Mike repeated over and over as Eleven groaned with a tired smile. Lucas snorted.
“Eleven, don’t let him treat you like that; use your own powers to make him hit himself!” Lucas said with exaggerated passion. Dustin giggled and turned over onto his back as he snatched Will’s bag of pretzels, to which he protested against immediately. Dustin simply stuck his tongue out at his friend, grabbed a pretzel, and tossed one at Eleven’s face.
“Whoops,” He said, before chucking one again. “Whoops.”
Mike laughed as he continued to annoy Eleven, who remained sleepy and patient like a long-suffering housecat.
“Actually, nevermind, I’m gonna mess with you now,” Lucas said as he got up and grabbed a whiffle bat the boys were messing with earlier.
“Yeah, taunt the girl with superpowers. That’ll end well,” Will deadpanned as Lucas walked around the currently-firing Dustin and behind Eleven’s head, and brought the bat down onto her head repeatedly, bouncing the plastic bat on top as he began his own mantra consisting of, “Don’t go to sleep. Don’t go to sleep.”
The boys’ voices chimed in playful discordance, and Eleven simply smiled widely as her friends attempted to keep her conscious. Will shook his head with a resigned sigh, before shrugging and shuffling over to his step-sister and began poking her arm rapidly. Eleven simply tried to keep herself from laughing, enjoying the playful atmosphere of the night.
“Boys.”
The four boys froze as Karen Wheeler stood in the doorway of the basement, wearing a robe and a tired scowl.
“What are you doing up so late? And why are you torturing the chief’s daughter?”
“We’re...pulling an all-nighter,” Mike explained lamely. The room fell silent as Mike and his mother engaged in a silent staring contest while Eleven’s head bobbed slightly, her descent into slumber quickly approaching.
“Just-Please keep the noise down. I’m trying to sleep, because I, unlike you, have a job,” His mother ordered in resignation, stepping away from the doorway and closing the basement door with a gentle push.
Mike snorted, face flushing with relief. Lucas frowned and smacked Eleven’s head a little harder than he had previously, snapping her awake with a sharp inhale and rapid blinking.
“Hey. Don’t go to sleep.”