Chapter Text
It all started because Mike was hungry.
He threw his head back, dark curls resting under a white sailor hat, and groaned.
“I’m starving. They’re starving me. They can’t keep me here, this is employee abuse.”
An annoyingly calm voice responded to Mike Wheeler’s third complaint in the last hour.
“Feel free to walk out then, Wheeler, no one would miss you.”
Mike swiveled around, back against the ice cream counter, and glared in through the open window at the redhead. Max Mayfield was standing in the back room of Scoops Ahoy, picking at her fingernails and looking more bored by the second. There may have been a wall between them, but it didn’t stop Max from grating on his nerves. Mike crossed his arms over his chest.
“You’d miss me when it came time to close. Who’s going to clean the ice cream machine? Certainly not you.”
Max cocked an eyebrow in response. “I’m perfectly content cleaning the ice cream machine, and you know it. I’d get it done faster than you and without complaint. She likes me more, anyway.”
Max gently patted the side of the stainless steel machine she rested against. It whirred mechanically in response.
“That thing is out to get me, I swear. It’s broken twice in the past month.”
“That’s because you don’t have the special touch,” Max responded, eyes bright with amusement, “It never breaks when I clean it.”
Mike couldn’t keep the annoyance from seeping into his tone.
“That’s because you don’t do it thoroughly enough!”
The two continued to bicker back and forth through the red window that allowed Mike to see through the back of the store. He pondered how he’d end up condemning his entire summer to working a minimum wage job in Starcourt Mall, the busiest spot in town since school got out. Every day, he spent hours cleaning the same utensils, wiping down the same counters, and getting ridiculed at every pass by Max, who always managed to have a comment for him.
His stomach growled for what seemed like the millionth time, a physical sound to remind him of his misery. Mike stared at her helplessly.
“My stomach feels like it's eating itself,” he whined.
Max rolled her eyes.
“Why didn’t you pack a snack or something?”
He groaned in response, “I was going to, but since I had to cover for Jennifer this morning. I completely ran out of time.”
Another perk of working in the food service industry. He’ll cover everyone else's shift, but when he has something actually important to do, no one will cover him.
Mike’s drifting eyes found Max’s maroon-colored backpack sitting on one of the chairs. Suddenly, he perked up, leaning off the counter and into the open window. His dark eyes plead, big and brown. “Can I borrow some of your food?”
“What?” She raised an eyebrow. “No.”
“Please?” He was begging now.
Max shook her head back and forth. She seemed to be enjoying this. “No way in hell, Wheeler. My food is off limits.”
“But, I’m starving!”
She tipped her head forward, giving him a not my problem kind of look. “You should have packed a lunch.”
Mike was just about to argue back about how he couldn’t when a sort of trance seemed to take over Max. She did that sometimes when Mike was ranting before she eventually cut him off with a new topic. Her eyes became distant, looking far away. He bent forward against the inner wall of the open window to get closer. Mike waved a hand tentatively back and forth in front of her pale, freckled features.
“Hello? Earth to Max? Kinda lost you there–”
Max reached out and caught Mike by his outstretched wrist. He protested, yanking his hand back. Max didn’t even seem perturbed.
With a thoughtful look still written across her features, she said quietly, “I wonder if she’s working.”
“Huh? Who’s working?”
Shooting off the ice cream machine, Max burst through the door that led to behind the counter. She shouldered past a withering Mike and reached for the phone. Dialing fast, she held up the plastic to her ear and waited.
“Max?” Mike asked, eyebrows stitched together. “Who are you calling?”
She abruptly shushed him, holding up a finger.
“Come on, pick up, pick up,” she encouraged into the phone under her breath.
Mike rolled his eyes, a habit he seemingly picked up from his hot-headed coworker, and resumed his position leaning up against the ice cream display. His flesh rippled with goosebumps from the cold glass. As he waited for the number to dial, he scanned the flavors. Mint chocolate chip, rocky road, cotton candy.
The girl seemed to hear a response on the other end of the line because her entire face lit up. Her pink lips pulled back from her sharp teeth and grinned–
“Jane!”
Still confused, Mike strained to hear over the sound of Scoop’s Ahoy’s ambient music to pick up the sound of a chipper voice greeting back.
“Who’s that?” He asked.
Max didn’t even bother to shush her coworker before she responded, “Great, you’re working delivery today?” Her face fell in response to the other end of the line’s words. “Aw, really? Damn, I wanted to order a pizza for Mike and me.”
Now that his name was mentioned over the line, Mike started to feel slightly nervous. He tried to grab the phone.
“Seriously, Max, who is it?”
Thoroughly annoyed now, Max tugged the phone towards her chest, blocking out her harsh words from the receiver.
She looked him straight on, blue eyes fiery. “Do you want a pizza or not?”
Mike stared back dumbly in response. “Pizza?”
Max returned the phone to her ear, a smile spreading across her features once more. “We’ll take one large pepperoni pizza, please. Oh, and can you add in an order of breadsticks?” She waited as the other side responded. “Thanks, Jane, you’re the best!”
The plastic phone returned to the wall with a resounding click, and Max slumped against the wall, arms crossed across her sailor uniform.
She smiled, grin wide and toothy. “You should be thanking me.”
“Thanking you?” He parroted.
“Thanking me for my connections. Networking’s amazing, you should really get into it.” Mike’s jaw remained slack, and the redhead’s smile was replaced by a groan at the lost look on his face. “I just ordered food from Surfer Boy Pizza. I got to talk to Jane, and you’ll no longer be hungry and stop annoying me with all your whining. It’s a win-win.”
“I was not whining!” Mike argued.
“You’re literally whining right now!” She sighed and looked out towards the mall bustling with people. “It sucks, though. Jane’s not even on delivery right now. I wonder who’ll drop off the pizza.”
That shut Mike up. He turned back towards the ice cream and started wiping down the display case with the nervous energy that had budded in his system.
The motion sensor at the front entrance of the store pinged. The sound of a bell ringing caused the two workers to turn towards the head of the counter. Erica Sinclair stood there, smirking up at them.
“I’d like to sample some of your flavors, please,” her dark eyes blinked up at them in mock innocence.
Max threw her head back and sighed. Her twin braids flew angrily around her face as she slammed her hands on the counter.
“You cannot still be coming back here to steal from us, Sinclair!”
Erica’s features twisted in annoyance, but her eyes gleamed. She knew she had all the customer rights in the world.
She held a finger up and wagged it in the air to emphasize her words. Mike’s eyes followed it, transfixed; hours of scooping ice cream weighed on his energy levels. He felt tired.
“I’m not stealing,” Erica pointed at the sign facing out towards the customers that read "Ask me about my free samples!” in swirly, red lettering. “Unlimited free samples. That’s the rule.”
Max groaned into her palms and shook her head, words coming out muffled. “You can’t keep eating all of our products without actually purchasing anything.”
“And who’s gonna tell me to stop?” Erica fought back, relentless as ever. “The way I see it, what the sign says goes. And the sign says I can eat as many free samples as I want. So,” the girl said, crossing her hands behind her back and smiling pleasantly, “I’d like to try your Oreo Delight, please.”
The next 10 minutes passed in an agonizing display of customer satisfaction with a disgruntled Max Mayfield feeding the young girl samples of ice cream robotically, resigned to her fate. After Erica finished licking all the flavors off of the mini pink spoon with a content look on her face, she smiled, threw away the spoon, and practically skipped out of the store.
His coworker glowered and stomped to the door, passing Mike to go sit in the back.
“Don’t bother me until the pizza comes.”
A chuckle fell past Mike’s lips before he could help it, grinning wider at the sight of Max flipping him off as the door shut behind her. If nothing else, Max was entertaining.
Mike sighed as he waited for the pizza. His stomach grumbled once more. Mike stretched his arms above his head and yawned, swiveling so his back was towards the front of the store. A small ding! sounded off, the front entrance’s motion detection signifying a new customer had walked in.
Eyes still closed and arms mid-stretched, Mike automatically droned, “Welcome to Scoops Ahoy. What ice cream voyage can we sail you on today?”
Mike was met with the sound of panting, and he opened his eyes to locate the source. Standing at the front entrance was a boy, looking to be around his age, dressed in a yellow Surfer Boy Pizza shirt and blue jeans. He appeared flustered, cheeks flushed pink with bright eyes that darted around the open store. It looked like he had run there. He blinked at Mike, and Mike blinked back. It was like all the words had been stolen from his throat.
The brown-haired boy walked forward tentatively. He looked down at the pizza boxes in his hands, read the white ticket attached to them, and looked up. Mike gaped a little when they made eye contact. His eyes were hazel with hints of green swirling in them.
“I have a… large pepperoni pizza and breadsticks for–er, Max?” He said between breaths, looking at the boy in front of him like he had grown a second head. “You’re friends with Jane? You… sounded like a girl over the phone.”
The seconds awkwardly ticked by as silence grew between them, where Mike was supposed to fill it. Eventually, after a few painful moments, he managed to get words out.
“Oh, right. Max is– she’s back there,” Mike gestured a thumb towards the back of the store. His arms came face up, open-palmed, in anticipation. His limbs felt long and gangly, like he hadn’t used them in years. “I’ll take those.”
The boy seemed to remember himself then, as he had just been staring at Mike without any words.
He nodded, “Right! Here you are,” he handed the two boxes of warm food over to Mike, who thanked whatever god was out there that his sweaty hands successfully grabbed them and set them down on the counter.
“Thanks,” Mike breathed, looking back at his hazel eyes.
The boy seemed confused, like he was waiting for something.
“Um,” he started. He held up an outstretched palm, swallowing. “That’ll be 12.87.”
“Oh, right!” Mike said, flustered. He patted his sailor's outfit down, looking for his wallet. He pulled it out of his pocket and opened it. All at once, coins flung out from the confines of the leather, and they jingled as they rattled against the floor. Mike gritted his teeth in embarrassment.
“Sorry, I–”
“No, no, it’s okay, um–”
The two scrambled to the floor to retrieve the fallen change. Mike picked them up and then attempted to stand back to his full height, accidentally banging his head against the top of the counter. It sounded off in the mostly empty space– loudly– and he cursed colorfully under his breath.
The other boy reached out a hand as if he didn’t know how to help. “Are– are you okay?” It sounded kind of like he was holding back a laugh. He dropped the change on the counter and slid it over to Mike.
Mike nodded fervently, frowning, as he rubbed the spot where he hit his head. “Yep. All good. Here,” he thumbed out a ten and a five, handing them over the counter. In a split-second decision, he stuttered out, “Keep the change.”
He looked down at the cash Mike was holding and then peered up at him through his lashes, chin tipped down. “Are you sure?”
Mike swallowed and nodded. “Yeah, for sure.”
The boy reached out and pocketed the bills. “Thanks,” he trailed off, eyes darting down to Mike’s chest and then back up, “Mike,” he finished.
Mike stared back, confused for a moment, before looking down at his chest. He was met with the white plastic of his name tag. A small chuckle escaped his lips.
“Perks of the uniform, I guess,” he said sarcastically. “What’s your name?”
Mike was met with a smile. The boy's eyes crinkled at the corners. He tried not to stare.
“Will,” the boy said. “Will Byers.”
“Mike Wheeler,” he provided after swallowing. “You work at the new pizza store?”
Surfer Boy Pizza was a delivery service that was added recently after one of the stores on the first floor went out of business. Mike hadn’t been able to go in yet, but it was all the rage. He’d caught glimpses of the giant vans they had for outside-of-the-mall delivery. The pale yellow vehicles were decked out with red surfboard logos strapped to the top.
Will shrugged. “Yeah, my sister and I got jobs there this summer. It’s not the worst place in the world.”
“That’s because this place is,” Mike said, gesturing behind him to the walls adorned with blue and red accents that matched his uniform.
Will let out a small laugh. Mike grinned.
“What, Scoops Ahoy? At least you don’t have to run and make deliveries,” Will said, looking off to the side. He leaned onto the counter with his weight resting on his palms, his chest leaning a bit over the counter.
“Are you kidding?” Mike leaned too, mirroring Will. It was as if there was a gravitational pull bringing the pair closer together as he smiled at the shorter boy. “Standing in the same place for hours? My feet are killing me.”
“Oh, yeah?” Will said, turning his head back to Mike. His lips curled over his teeth, revealing front teeth that shone brightly in the white lights of the store. “At least your uniforms are cute.”
Mike blinked. “Cute?” He questioned.
Will sighed and gestured forlornly to his yellow attire. “All we get are these shitty t-shirts. And you,” Will reached up the same hand and stretched across the counter that divided them. His hand came up to rest by the side of Mike’s face and lightly traced the white hat that lay on top of Mike’s head. He finished, softer, “Get to wear these cute hats.”
Mike inhaled. Will was staring up at his sailor's hat, a soft smile written across his features. Up close, Mike could see just how much green was mixed in with the hazel of his eyes. He didn’t say anything; he couldn’t muster any words. Just stared at the warm flush on Will’s cheeks. His eyes flickered down towards Mike. He could see panic start to swell in them for a moment, and his hand flinched back from where it had been hovering near Mike’s head.
Will’s jaw stood agape, and he held his hand to his chest, looking bashful.
“I–”
“Finally, is that the pizza! Mike, I told you to tell me when it got here!”
Mike let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He jerked back from where he was positioned– practically dangling over the counter.
The door to the back swung open, and Max burst through, her blue eyes bright with interest. She shoved her way past Mike and dove towards the pizza.
“Thanks– oh!” She turned to Will, “You must be Jane’s brother. She literally never shuts up about you.” Max smiled, warmth seeping into her words. She reached out a hand to shake. “I’m Max.”
“Will,” the boy responded after a moment and returned the handshake. He seemed grateful for the disruption. His cheeks were a little red. “Jane has told me about you, too. You like skateboarding, right?”
Mike’s coworker beamed. “Yeah, man, I can show you the ropes after this shift if you’re up for a challenge. Usually, the parking lots are empty after closing.”
His eyes seemed to glow a little at her words.
“Wait, really? Yeah, actually, that’d be cool–” Will cut himself off. The once pink flush on his face seemed to pale. His head swiveled around, checking the clock. “Wait, what time is it? I gotta go, I have– orders–” he said, rushed, turning around before seeming to remember himself and looking back at them. He paused at the front of the store.
“Another time, then?” Max offered.
Will nodded apologetically at her. “Sorry, for sure. It was nice to meet you,” he said.
Will glanced towards Mike. The eye contact made Mike perk up again. He felt like he had just downed three shots of espresso.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mike,” Will spoke softly, lip caught between his teeth. A nervous habit. Mike’s eyes darted down to them. And then back up.
“Nice to meet you, too,” Mike breathed back.
The other boy offered another quick smile before turning and running out of the store, the motion detector beeping as he went.
A few moments of silence hung between the two sailor outfit-wearing employees. Max leaned onto the ice cream display, still staring out towards the entrance of the ice cream parlor.
“So. You’re whipped.”
Mike felt himself turn red hot, and he wanted to shout back at her just like he always did. But his tongue felt twisted in his mouth. For the first time, he didn’t have anything to say.
Mike’s stomach growled. Suddenly, he was fucking starving.