Chapter Text
Mike adjusts the collar of his shirt as he curses the heat, curses his stupid uniform, and curses the fact that he has to spend his summer working.
Mike just curses everything; he’s in a terrible mood.
It’s one thing to have to work during summer break; it’s a whole other thing when he has to come in to work at 9 am. Who eats ice cream at 9 am?
Mike starts uncovering the tubs of various flavors, not caring whether they melt; if his manager, Ned, cared, he wouldn’t have opened the store so early. When Mike’s done, he glances around, having already finished the rest of his opening tasks, before sprawling out at one of the tables in the dining area.
Not like anyone’s going to need them now, anyway.
A door crashing open echoes through the empty mall, but Mike doesn’t jump; he’s way too used to it. Not even a minute passes before he hears a laugh and, “Wow, can’t believe you weren’t late for once.”
Mike turns his head as his coworker, Max, lazily plops herself into one of the chairs across from him. “I was, just nowhere near as late as you.”
“Huh,” is all Max says, and Mike frowns. He’s used to the lackadaisical attitude his red-headed coworker brings to the job; in fact, his own work ethic’s practically the same. What he’s not used to, and pisses him off even more, is being the only one to do all the work.
“That’s really all you have to say?” Mike asks.
“What?”
“I opened the entire store; you owe me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Max rolls her eyes. “Go cry about it.”
Mike crosses his arms and thinks a moment before deciding, “Then you’re working register today.”
Max scoffs. “You asshole!”
“It’s only fair.”
Max rolls her eyes again and leans farther back in her chair, grumbling, “Yeah, whatever.”
Mike’s brows raise only slightly at his surprise before he takes whatever victory he can. “So, think people’ll actually get ice cream today?”
Max shrugs. “Why not? They’ll already be here.”
“Yeah, but… ice cream and pizza? That’s like putting pineapple on pizza.”
“What?” Her voice rises in disbelief as she turns to face him fully. “How?”
Mike huffs. “It’s the sweet and savory combo, just doesn’t work.”
“Have you even tried it?”
“Don’t have to try it to know it’s gross.”
Max laughs, shaking her head with a look of pure exasperation. “Okay, Wheeler, when I force you to eat pineapple pizza, you’re gonna realize how wrong you are.”
“Alright, Mayfield, I’d like to see you try.”
Mike peeks a look across the food court to the red and yellow store that’s supposed to open today. Supposed to. As in, not currently open, yet Mike still has to be here.
Max must see the lingering annoyance on Mike’s face because after a moment, she says, “I hear they’re bringing in some ‘star employees’ or whatever,” and emphasizes with air quotes.
“Ugh, from California?” Mike sneers, wrinkling his nose. “Probably the ones who can get the most stoned.”
Max barks out a laugh, which Mike quirks a smile to - he’s glad if he has to suffer, at least he’s not alone, no matter how annoying his coworker is. “Imagine they get stoned at work.”
Mike laughs, trying to imagine that. “How much you wanna bet we’ll smell it from here?”
Max narrows her eyes in a contemplative look before, “I’ll take that bet and raise you - we won’t smell it, but we sure will see it.”
“How?” Mike asks.
“Uh, red eyes, puffy face?” Max raises an eyebrow. “Have you ever seen someone high?”
Mike frowns. “Well, no-”
Max’s burst of laughter cuts him off, and she takes his hand in hers and shakes. “Oh, you’re so on.”
“Hey!” Mike flings his hand back when he realizes. “I never agreed.”
“Too late, you owe me.”
“You haven’t even won yet.”
Max gives a low chuckle before she concludes, “Oh, yeah, I have.”
And Mike doesn’t care to respond, especially because they never even discussed what someone would get for winning the bet. He just zones into his own mind and stares at the store across the food court, wondering what these Californians are going to be like.
Mike feels as though several hours have passed, and he’s close to losing his mind; the mall is still dead, as if holding its breath for the grand opening at 12. He hasn’t even seen one shopper, which is why Max is currently skateboarding around the food court with her Walkman playing as loudly as it can through headphones against her neck, and Mike is building a multicolored snowman cone with different flavors of ice cream.
He began by trying to make the most diabolical combination he could, but after starting with blue raspberry and mint chocolate chip, Mike’s thinking maybe he should add french vanilla to balance it out.
Just as he’s adding the last scoop, Max boards over and, before fully stopping in front of the counter, asks, “What the hell is that?”
“Art, but you wouldn’t understand,” Mike answers without missing a beat.
Max grimaces. “I can understand it’s disgusting.”
“No, it’s creative.”
“Yet you refuse to try pineapple pizza.”
Mike sighs in exasperation. “‘Cause fruit doesn’t belong on pizza!”
Max shakes her head as she widens her eyes in emphasis. “If you just tried it, you’d realize it does!”
“I don’t have to try it to know!”
“Agh!” Max groans and throws her board up in exasperation. “It’s only been an hour, and I already want to ride this into a wall.”
Mike blinks - has it only been an hour? He might have to borrow Max’s skateboard and a wall if this goes on any longer.
Before Mike’s able to respond in some annoyed way or another, the echoing whine of an outside door opening catches both Mike and Max’s attention. The sound had come from across the food court, right near-
“Ooh, this is it!” Max exclaims in a pseudo-whisper, pausing her music and rushing around the counter to stand next to Mike.
“We don’t even know if it’s them,” Mike grumbles as if he’s not interested, but he’s standing on his tiptoes trying to get a better look.
Max rolls her eyes. “Who else would it be, E.T.?”
“Well-”
Max cuts him off. “Don’t make me call you an idiot.”
“You already do.”
“Don’t m-”
“Shut up, look!” Because just then, a girl walks to the front of Surfer Boy Pizza, laughing with someone they can’t see yet. Mike’s unable to make out everything about her because of the distance, but he can see she has brown shoulder-length wavy hair with bangs and looks to be just about Mike and Max’s age - 17.
Mike strains to stand taller, looking for the telltale signs of red eyes and a puffy face, but it’s too far to see clearly enough. The girl wanders around the front of the store, supposedly acquainting herself with the new environment, all while talking and laughing with the person Mike still can’t see.
“Wow, she’s…” Max trails off.
Mike glances at her and waits for her to continue, but Max’s gaze is fixated on the new store. After a moment, Mike asks, “She’s what?”
Max’s eyes widen. “Oh, nothing, just…” She shifts her feet before answering. “I thought the ‘star employees’ would be old.”
“Maybe she’s a vampire.” Mike shrugs, and before he knows it, a hand’s whacking his shoulder. “Ow! What was th-”
“‘Cause you’re an idiot.”
Mike rolls his eyes. “You act like…”
Mike’s words get caught in his throat as he sees a second person move into his line of sight, laughing with the girl. This one’s a boy who looks the same age as the girl, maybe a year younger, and…
Mike tilts his head, eyes shifting between the two of them. They look almost like twins, the boy’s brown hair shaped into a bowl cut that actually works for him - it’s the first time Mike’s seen a bowl cut and not wondered why someone would subject themselves to that torture.
He watches the boy a few minutes longer; there’s something about him that’s charming his curiosity, and Mike’s trying to figure out what it is. The boy doesn’t seem like a stoner or a surfer, but Mike’s not sure what other kinds of people live in California. He's tanned, and between him and the girl, the only established parts of the uniform seem to be the yellow visor and shirt. Other than that, they have more freedom - the girl’s wearing a purple and black flannel over her shirt, jeans, and a couple of scrunchies around her wrist.
The boy’s also wearing a flannel over his uniform, except the colors on his are a more muted yellow and blue. He also has on lighter jeans than the girl, and Mike can see how bright his smile is even from the other side of the food court. He reminds Mike of a ball of sunshine, except Mike can’t tear his eyes away.
He thinks of his own blue sailor uniform and grumbles in envy.
The more he watches them, the more they seem like twins, or at least siblings. Mike can see it in the easy way they talk and move, as if they’re two parts of the same whole, and whenever the girl seems nervous, the boy makes her laugh within a few seconds. And after a few more moments, Mike’s completely forgotten about the girl and only watches the boy, trying to figure out why he can’t look away.
Mike thinks it’s because of how comfortable the boy looks around another person. He never feels that relaxed unless he’s by himself, in his room, and when he’s the only one home.
“Think one of them’s high?” Max asks, and Mike blinks as he’s dragged from his thoughts.
“Wha- him?” Mike recoils, wrinkling his nose. “Definitely not, he looks too good to be stoned.”
Max pauses long enough for Mike to meet her gaze, raising both of his eyebrows in silent question. She starts laughing with her mouth closed, as if trying to hold it in, before she asks, “You think he’s good-looking?”
“Wh- N-, What-” Mike sputters until Max laughs harder, then he just gets annoyed. “That’s not what I said.”
“Sure sounds like it.”
“I’m just saying that he’s objectively-” Mike’s cut off by Max slapping her thigh, and he scowls even harder. “I’m not attracted to him, I’ve just got eyes and a brain.”
Max starts laughing even harder, and Mike’s confused as to why until Max asks, “Who said anything about being attracted to him?”
Mike’s face is way too hot, and he thinks one of these days, he’s going to end up as the only employee after Max finally makes him lose his sanity and snap.
Mike brings a hand through his hair and huffs a sigh. “I’m just gonna shut up.”
“Finally, I’ve been trying to get you to do that for a year now.”
Mike’s about to respond because, contrary to what he just said, Max could never actually get him to shut up, but the boy looks up and meets Mike’s gaze across the food court.
Mike’s breath catches as he feels an invisible string constrict his body and lock it up, and the boy tilts his head with a smile on his face and waves. Mike blinks because what the hell are they putting in the water in California to make his complexion look so bright?
He’s frozen to the spot until a sharp pain hits his ribs, and Max hisses from beside him, “Oh my god, wave back!”
Mike thinks he waves, or maybe he doesn’t. His mind is still trying to figure itself out when the boy gives another quick smile, and the girl comes out of nowhere, grabs the boy’s arm, and leaves for presumably the back of the store.
“Okay, dude, seriously? What is your problem?” Max’s voice pulls Mike’s mind out of whatever foggy land it had resided in, and Mike blinks, trying to orient himself.
His first thought to himself is what the hell?
And his second and third thoughts, too, because what the hell is wrong with Mike? He turned into a silent creep just from a smile and a wave from a weirdly curious person.
He blames California. And Max.
Max moves to stand in front of Mike, waving a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Michael.”
Mike hits her hand away. “I can hear you perfectly fine, I’m choosing not to respond.”
Max scoffs. “Yeah, sure, okay.”
Mike’s about to defend himself before his gaze moves past Max’s shoulders, and he freezes. Because the boy and the girl working at Surfer Boy Pizza are walking across the food court, headed right for Mike and Max.
“Oh no,” Mike mumbles, not meaning to speak out loud.
Max turns around, notices them walking over, and turns back to Mike with a smirk. “Oh, hell yes.”
Mike can’t question what she said because the boy is now closer, and Mike’s thoughts are starting to siphon out of his head. He quickly throws his snowman abomination in the trash and grabs his scoopers, jamming them in the first ice cream tub he can - pineapple, Mike notes with a grimace.
He starts scooping the ice cream just for something to do with his hands, eyes not leaving the harsh yellow, and Max laughs from beside him before she greets, “Hey guys!”
Mike’s hands freeze as his head snaps up, gaze immediately meeting the boy’s. Mike’s breath catches again when he sees the boy’s eyes, which are green with hints of blue and brown. Mike thinks of his own dark, plain eyes and feels instantly jealous - how does this stranger from California have everything Mike wants?
The boy is also several inches shorter than Mike, and for some reason, Mike’s too aware of just how much taller he is and adjusts his posture to match the boy’s height. Mike’s vaguely aware of Max and the other girl engaging in conversation, but he and the other boy are trapped in a staring contest that neither of them is willing to lose.
Mike jumps when a hand hits his shoulder. “And this is Mike, but he can’t say much.” Max puts a hand next to her mouth and fake-whispers, “he’s mute.”
Mike scowls, snapping his neck to Max. “I’m not-”
“Oh wow, same with Will here,” the California girl laughs through her words, ruffling the boy’s hair. “What a crazy coincidence.”
“Jane!” The boy exclaims, throwing a hand up to fix his hair, and even though he only said one word, Mike finds himself fixated on the way the boy, Will, can add a sunny lilt to it, the melody settling softly in his ears.
For some reason, Mike thinks of that voice calling out a crit hit in one of his D&D campaigns and immediately wonders if maybe Will is exactly who his party is missing. They do need a cleric - Mike can’t keep healing himself and everyone else with only the spell to lay on hands.
An arm over his shoulder drags him out of his thoughts as Max pulls him closer to her, offering, “We can save you some for the end of your shift. We got the best ice cream in this mall.”
The girl, Jane, laughs at Max’s joke, but Mike can only blush at how easily he’s getting distracted. He must be tired or something.
Will blinks a few times; Mike nearly gets distracted again by the way the light hits his eyelashes, but quickly catches himself, practically dragging his mind back down to the conversation and earth itself.
“Well, if we’re still alive by the end of the shift, then I’d love to try the best strawberry around,” Jane chirps, the expressive sound contrasting with the shy smile on her face.
She then looks over to Will and gives him a nudge. He shakes his head like he’s just getting back to the conversation, too, and looks directly at Mike when he asks, “You have vanilla?”
Mike blinks, trying to figure out how to respond because is this guy serious? Is California really that backwards? Until he sees Will’s lips quirk up, and Mike blushes for not getting the joke at first.
“Oh, uh-“ Mike stammers, racking his brain for a witty comeback. “I’ll have to check in the back.”
Mike doesn’t think his comeback’s funny, but Will’s eyes brighten right away as his face breaks out into a grin. “I wouldn’t want to hassle you.”
Mike shrugs, but starts to laugh. “I have to go there anyway.”
Will laughs with Mike for a moment until they both get lost trying to read the other; there’s something about him that Mike needs to find out.
He’s just not sure what.
It feels like a lifetime, but it’s probably closer to a second when Jane playfully nudges Will’s shoulder and teases, “I’m surprised you didn’t try seeing if they had a Reese’s Pieces flavor.”
Mike immediately perks up at this hint of knowledge, and Will rolls his eyes at Jane - how does someone roll their eyes in a nice way? At least Mike knows California isn’t too backwards because Will asks, “Since when have you seen Reese’s Pieces ice cream?”
Max laughs, “Now that’d be a best-seller.”
The conversation carries on, but Mike’s focus is now solely on the tubs of ice cream in front of him. He briefly twists the scoops where he had stabbed them into the pineapple, testing the softness of the ice cream.
Could he? He’s sure Will wouldn’t mind being a taste tester.
“Oh, so you can make love eyes at pineapple ice cream, but pizza’s where you draw the line.” Mike jumps at Max’s voice, and he almost scowls at her until he remembers Will and Jane are also here.
“You don’t like pineapple pizza?” Jane asks with a gasp.
Mike’s eyes nervously flick to Will before he defends himself. “It’s just the combo. I like pineapple, and I like pizza, just… just not together.”
Max groans. “If you like them separately, then just try it.”
For a split second, Will and Jane share a conspiratorial look before they both sing at the same time, “Try before you deny!”
To Mike’s horror, he actually laughs. To his even greater horror, Max laughs.
Mike’s sure he’s been transported to another dimension until he remembers Will and Jane are from California. He can’t smell anything, but can he still get stoned from second-hand smoke if he doesn’t notice it? He sure feels stoned; at least, he imagines this is how it’d feel because he’s ridiculously distracted and giddy.
He’s about to look for other signs when Jane puts an arm around Will’s shoulder and says, “Well, we should get back to work. Who knows how crazy it’s gonna get today.”
“Good luck,” Max smirks.
Jane laughs. “Thanks, we’ll need it.”
Mike forgets he’s supposed to say something until Max elbows him in the side. He jumps and mumbles, “Y-Yeah, hope it’s… fun?”
Mike grimaces at himself, but Will’s face lights up in a way that reminds Mike of the sun itself. Will gives a wave and a “see ya!” before he and Jane walk away.
Mike blinks at their retreating backs and notices how Jane nudges Will so hard, he stumbles at least three feet away. Mike’s gaze is stuck until Max pushes him, too, except so hard that Mike’s knocked off balance and crashes to the floor.
“Ow! What the hell was that for?”
“‘Cause that was actually pathetic,” Max answers before holding out a hand; Mike knocks it away before pushing himself up. He instinctively glances to the side, noting that Will and Jane are just getting back to Surfer Boy Pizza, thankfully unaware of Mike falling.
Mike scowls at Max as he dusts his shorts off. “Not my fault I breathed in their smoke.”
“You-” Max snorts. “You think you got high?”
“Or some-”
“Then explain why you’re pissed off now.”
Mike stalls mid-sentence, mouth stuck wide open. His brain whirls for a few moments before he retorts, “Because you always piss me off.”
Max laughs before she quips, “Keep telling yourself that.”
Mike furrows his brow. “What does-”
The people of Hawkins, of course, always have perfect timing, as Mike’s interrupted by the main mall doors opening, and a group of teenagers walks through.
Mike groans as he recognizes one of them, and he gives Max a pointed look before Erica Sinclair strolls right up to Scoops Ahoy, stopping directly in front of the glass protecting the ice cream.
“Shouldn’t you be trying the new pizza like everyone else?” Mike crosses his arms, staring down at the sister of his friend, Lucas.
“Who else?” Erica quips back, stretching her arm out to the mall that would be empty if it weren’t for her and her friends. “Anyways, shouldn’t you be getting me my free sample? Chop chop, sailor boy.”
Mike wrinkles his nose and looks to Max, but she raises her hands and points out, “You said I was ringing today,” before strolling to the back of the store, out of sight.
Mike brings his thumb and index finger to the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply, before he asks, “Fine, what do you want?”
“I’d like a sample of the chocolate pudding, the triple decker-”
“Only one, you know that.”
Erica crosses her arms and taps her foot, weirdly reminding Mike of his own sister, Nancy. Erica states, “You and I both know it’d save more time if-”
“Really?”
“Just the facts!” Erica points out with her hands raised in a shrug, and Mike has to close his eyes and take a deep breath before he completely loses his sanity.
Then an idea pops into his head, and his eyes fly open.
“Y’know what? I’ll give you free ice cream all day-” Erica raises an eyebrow “-if you get me a few bags of Reese’s Pieces.”
Erica narrows her eyes as her foot ceases its tapping. “Why are you asking?”
“Does it matter?”
Erica observes him for a few more moments before bargaining, “Free ice cream for a month.”
Mike scoffs. “No way, maybe a week, but-”
“3 weeks.”
Mike rolls his eyes. “Two weeks, but no more.”
“Two and a half-”
“Two weeks, otherwise no deal.”
Erica’s quiet, contemplative, for a few moments before she states, “I could just get a bunch of free samples.”
Mike shrugs. “I’ll let you cut the line.”
Erica’s eyes light up as she extends her hand. “Deal. Two weeks.”
Mike grasps her hand for a second before he says, “Great, I’ll need like five bags-”
“Five?”
“-to make-” Mike cuts himself off and narrows his eyes at her. “Just get them.”
“Fine, but you’re getting my ice cream first.”
Luckily, it doesn’t take too long for Erica to finish her ice cream and return with the bags of candy.
Unluckily, by the time Mike’s ready to start experimenting, people start to flood into the mall, and they do, in fact, eat ice cream with their pizza. With all the additional business, the shift actually goes by pretty quickly.
Definitely not flawlessly, though.
It seems something has gone to Mike’s head, and he still doesn’t believe it’s not from breathing in second-hand smoke, because he keeps getting distracted, his focus frequently sliding to the sheer amount of customers at Surfer Boy Pizza.
About halfway through the shift, Mike’s focus leaves him entirely, and he starts stumbling over himself, dropping his scoopers, and even mixing up ice cream flavors and orders as if this isn’t his third summer working here. He almost asks Max to switch tasks, but figures Ned would be way more upset if Mike messed up the money in the register.
For some reason, Max doesn’t berate him too much, but she does keep giving him sidelong, confused, and maybe even worried glances. Mike nearly snaps at her to mind her own business, but then realizes she is.
Mike just wishes he could snap at somebody, anybody, about anything, really.
He’s at least thankful when, at the last hour of their shift, Max hands him her Walkman and pleads, “Please, please, don’t screw up closing.”
Mike rolls his eyes at her out of habit, but snatches the Walkman with a “thanks” before Max changes her mind. He puts on the headphones and presses play, but quickly yanks them off at the deafening sound that blasts through.
“Max!” He whips his head to her; she only laughs, and Mike adds, “Also, Kate Bush? Really?”
Max shrugs as she hands off the order she was working on. “What can I say? She’s a legend.”
Mike gives her a look but says nothing else before he actually does annoy Max into taking the Walkman back. With music playing in his ears, Mike’s able to completely sink into his closing tasks, his distractions from earlier floating away on a dry, summer wind.
Mike’s almost done with all of his tasks when movement in his peripheral catches his eye, and he whips his head up.
Oh no.
Oh no.
Mike throws the broom to the floor and runs to the front of the store, taking the entire tub of vanilla ice cream to the back before Will and Jane make it even halfway across the empty food court, a box of pizza in each of their hands.
Mike tosses the tub on the table in the back, already racing toward his backpack without making sure the tub doesn’t slide off the other edge of the table.
It doesn’t, thankfully.
Mike doesn’t bother zipping his backpack up again after he grabs one of the bags of Reese’s Pieces he had stuffed in there earlier, and he races back to the table.
Alright. Reese’s, ice cream, what else?
Mike nearly rolls his eyes at himself as he launches away from the table to the dishes he had just cleaned. He hurriedly grabs a cup at the top of a stack, but as he’s bringing it down, it takes the entire stack down with it.
Mike can only wince, unmoving, as the stack of metal cups falls and explodes against the tile floor. The echoes are loud as cups fly in every direction for seemingly ever.
Mike breathes a sigh of relief when the sounds of crashing stop, only for a cup stuck to the inside of the one in his hand to fall, bouncing off the ground with a few solitary clinks.
He's frozen to the spot when Max peeks her head around the wall, eyes widening at the destruction.
“What the-”
“Don’t ask.”
Max gives him a bemused look before she says, “Well, Jane and Will brought us a pizza.” Mike finally notices the box in her hands as she lifts it in emphasis.
Mike’s finally able to move as he shifts on his feet and asks, “They still here?”
Max shakes her head. “Had to get home.”
Mike sighs in disappointment as he looks at the mess around him. Now that he’s lost a proper judge, he doesn’t want to craft his invention anymore. He tosses the last cup to the ground in silent protest, the metal echoing against the floor and other cups until the disoriented song ceases its solo.
Max snorts. “You’re just gonna have to pick that up.”
“What’s one in a sea of a thousand?”
“Alright, don’t get all weird on me,” Max warns as she crouches down and starts to gather the cups. “At least the insides didn’t get dirty.”
Mike frowns as he crouches down as well, the cold metal shocking his fingertips with every cup he gathers. “Still gotta wash them.”
Max halts, and she stares at Mike for several moments before she asks, “Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Wheeler? Because I might actually prefer him for once.”
Mike can’t stop the snort that escapes his nose. “Alright, but I’m still sanitizing them.”
Max laughs. “As long as I don’t have to stay late.” She resumes her gathering of the cups before she asks, “Still on for tonight?”
“After today? Obviously.” Mike stands with his stack of cups, throws them in the third sink, and turns on the sanitizer faucet. “And please tell me there’s no pineapple on that pizza.”
“Just cheese, lucky for you.” Max throws her stack of cups with the others and barks a laugh as she reaches down and turns the latch of the drain cover, blocking the sanitizer from fleeing the sink. “And looks like you really need it.”
Once the sink fills and Mike shuts off the sanitizer, he zips up and dons his backpack, locks up the door behind him and Max, and grabs his bike, walking beside it for now. They only have to walk a minute before they get to the semi-hidden alcove nestled on the side of the mall.
They never bothered to find a spot farther away since they live on opposite sides of Hawkins, and neither was willing to add any time to their ride home. They were still in the early stages of being coworkers when Max came to him with a pack of beer and nobody she felt like sharing with; Mike figures if they tried to pick a different spot now, though, they’d still run into the same problem.
Mike doesn’t bother wiping down the concrete ledge that juts from the mall’s outer wall before he plops down, stretching his legs in front of him with a groan. Max laughs as she sits across from him. “I think you might actually be more miserable than I am for once.”
Mike rolls his eyes as Max begins to unzip her backpack. “That’s not-” He frowns at her when she pulls the case of four berry wine coolers out of her backpack. “Uh, were those in there all day?”
Max scowls at him. “Yup. Completely forgot about the fridge.” She hands him one of the bottles, and he frowns at her when it’s ice cold against his skin.
Max snorts. “Did you really think I’d leave them out? That’s something-”
“Well-”
“-that you’d do.”
“-you… Hey!”
Max laughs as she opens her bottle, holds it out, and cheers, “To making it through another shift without killing anyone.”
Mike opens and holds out his bottle as well before clinking it against Max’s with a, “And to Billy for gifting these to his loving sister.”
Max laughs as she takes her first sip, then extends the pizza box. “Pretty sure these are his girlfriend’s, too. Can’t believe he hasn’t caught onto me yet.”
Mike laughs as he takes a sip, grabs a slice of pizza, and then raises both the bottle and pizza. “Then here’s to him never catching on.”
They laugh together for only a moment, then are both silent for several minutes as they make their own progress on the wine coolers and pizza. When Mike takes his first bite of the pizza, he almost melts at how good it tastes. He doesn’t know how this west-coast chain could have better pizza than Mike’s ever had, but he’s going to need to thank Will first thing in the morning.
Mike stays silent, demolishing three slices of pizza before Max has even had her second. He enjoys these after-work hangouts not only for the refreshments one of them manages to swipe beforehand but also because if Mike doesn’t feel like talking, Max is one of the only people who doesn’t take it personally, and vice versa.
Mike’s about halfway through his wine cooler when Max asks, “So… Feel like explaining today?”
Mike takes another sip. “Not really.” Max studies him for a moment before he rolls his eyes. “I already told you, I somehow breathed in-”
He’s interrupted by Max snorting, then she says, “Alright, then how come I’m not high?”
Mike blinks at her a moment before he shrugs. “I dunno, maybe you built up a tolerance from Billy or something-”
“You’re such an idiot.”
Mike’s voice cracks when he argues, “It could be possible,” and he clears his throat.
“Mike,” Max shakes her head at him. “Maybe you actually like other people besides me.”
“First off, I don’t like you,” Max rolls her eyes as Mike argues back. “Second, we just met them... And they’re from California.”
Max laughs. “What’s so bad about California?”
“It’s all just surfers and stoners, and-”
“You do realize I’m from there, right?”
Mike blinks at her. How has he known Max for years and not known this?
He studies her face to see if she’s joking, and she doesn’t seem like she is. Mike asks anyway: “Are you serious?”
Max laughs incredulously. “You are such an idiot.”
Mike scoffs. “And you’re just mean.”
“Guilty as charged,” Max attests with her right hand in the air, then she asks, “So, what was all that idiocy about at the end?”
Mike rolls his eyes. Of course, she chooses now to pester him.
“Stack of cups fell.” He shrugs.
“And the ice cream?”
Mike tilts his head because Max is studying him with a level of scrutiny that he’s never seen before, and he’s immediately on the defensive. “I was stealing it.”
Max narrows her eyes at him. “Really.”
Mike watches her for a few moments before he sighs and partially relents. “Fine, I’ll show you tomorrow. If it works.
“If it-” Max’s look of scrutiny turns into one of absolute horror. “The hell you gonna do to that ice cream, Wheeler?”
Mike openly laughs, and he figures the wine cooler’s already getting to his head; he takes another sip anyway and doesn’t respond.
Max raises an eyebrow, and Mike nearly gets whiplash by the shift in the conversation when she asks, “So, got your eye on anyone lately?”
Mike’s sure his expression must look ridiculous when he stammers, “What- Why- No.”
Max laughs, so Mike adds, “So, when you gonna give Lucas a chance?”
Max groans, her laughter fizzling away. “He’s not still asking about me, is he?”
“No! No,” Mike laughs as he takes another sip. “I’m sure he wants to, though.”
Max laughs again and takes another sip as well, but by the time the bottle’s back at her side, her smile’s turned into a grimace. “Imagine being required to talk to somebody about the deep stuff.” She dramatically shivers in emphasis.
“Huh.” Mike furrows his brow. “Never thought about it like that.” And once he does, his grimace is nearly a photocopy of Max’s.
Max laughs. “You don’t think about a lot-”
“Hey!”
“-of things and you know it.”
Mike stalls, then laughs. “Okay, sure, maybe some things.” Max gives him a look, and he laughs again. “Okay, okay. Nothing wrong with being happily unaware, though; barely notice my parents fighting anymore.” Max raises her brows.
“Touche, Wheeler.” She laughs and holds out her bottle, and Mike meets hers with a clink. “Touche.”
Since Mike and Max have to be back to work at 9 again, they decide to save the other two coolers for tomorrow and head home earlier than they usually do. When Mike raises his bike’s kickstand, Max stops him. “Wanna know what he got?”
Mike turns to face her with an eyebrow raised. “Huh?”
“Will, you wanna know what ice cream he got?” Max snorts. “Since the vanilla was too busy being experimented with.”
Mike’s thankful the lighting is poor because heat instantly floods his face.
Max continues when he doesn’t respond, and he can’t stop the groan that escapes his lips when she reveals, “Pineapple.”
It’s not until Mike gets home that he realizes that Max didn’t say what flavor of ice cream Jane had gotten.