Chapter Text
“No, I’m just saying he’s definitely not the worst guy I’ve gone out with.” Will says, gesturing with one hand and holding up his coffee mug with the other. He’s been arguing his case for the last ten minutes, the Party insistent with their dislike for the latest guy he’s been seeing.
“But he’s not the best either.” Lucas adds. He raises his eyebrows.
“Well, whatever makes you happy, Will.” Max says, stretching her legs out across Will’s lap. He offers her a smile; she always tries to be supportive, as long as the guy isn’t a complete douche. He doesn’t exactly have the best taste.
Dustin slides down from the arm rest of the couch until his hip collides with Will’s. He raises an arm and slides it around his shoulder, tapping him supportively. “Plus, he’s got nice eyes.”
Will shrugs back, feeling smug. It’s rare that his friends approve of one of his boyfriends, practically impossible for all of them to be in agreement, so he’ll take Max and Dustin’s reluctant support. ‘Nice eyes’ will have to do.
Anyway, it’s not like Carlton is the worst option he could have gone with. The two of them are three dates in, the fourth arranged for tonight and highlighted on the calendar in Will and Mike’s kitchen in red sharpie.
They met two months ago, at a birthday party for one of Will’s work-friends. Carlton works at a restaurant, has a nice apartment with two roommates who Will gets along well with, sings off tune in an endearing way. He’s no missing puzzle piece, but he’s good for now. A good time.
And if the others don’t think so, fine. They aren’t the ones dating him.
He’s not the first of Will’s big-city-boyfriends to face criticism from his nearest and dearest. There had been Thomas, the window cleaner; Anthony, the movie theatre employee who could get Will free cinema tickets but also had a fiancee and child that he kept under wraps (that had certainly not been an ideal experience, and Will could have done without the almost-sympathetic I-told-you-so’s from Max). Then there was Jay, one of Lucas’s friends from his basketball court. And now there’s Carlton. And he is content with that.
It’s the least they all deserve from all the shit of their adolescence. If it took interdimensional monsters and government hush money for them to make it to New York and still be close enough to criticise each other’s appalling taste in partners, then maybe everything was worth it.
Or maybe not. That’s kind of a shitty price to pay to end up in the Central Perk cafe beneath their apartment building.
“Wait, is he even your boyfriend?” Mike asks. Will rolls his eyes, because he’s almost positive that, as his roommate, Mike is already fully aware of the answer.
“We aren’t doing labels.” Will informs him, for what might be the tenth time. He reaches out and swats at Mike with the tip of his shoe. “And we’ve only been out three and a half times.”
“And yet, he’s running up the phone bill.” Mike groans, clambering up and going to the counter to get himself another black coffee. Two sugars. Will has his order memorised.
Max guffaws, “Wheeler, I know you of all people are not complaining about bills.”
“First time for everything.” He says with a smirk, sliding back into his seat in the armchair on the right of the couch.
“Dude, you never even paid me back for that cab!” Dustin fumes. “And now you’re acting like you’re Mr Moneybags.”
“That was Jonathan!” Mike protests, throwing his arms out and nearly whacking Max around the side of her head.
Will giggles. “Don’t drag Jonathan into your bullshit!”
“Watch,” Lucas warns, narrowing his eyes playfully. “He’ll pull the Jane card next.”
Dustin turns to Will quickly, a question in his eyes. “Is she still coming up for a few days in the summer?”
“Pretty sure.” Will says, trying to wrack his brain. “Mom said-”
The door to the cafe is wretched open, drowning the room in bustling city noise for a second before abruptly slamming shut once more. And there, her hair in messy waves, silhouetted by the evening sky behind her, as if summoned by magic itself, is Jane Hopper.
In a wedding dress.
Season One, Episode One: Pilot
Will is on his feet in a second, running to his sister. It’s been a while since they last saw each other: Jane had run off to California with her boyfriend as soon as the six of them had graduated from NYU, communicating with the Party only via phone calls and weekend visits over the last two years.
He didn’t know she had dyed her hair back to brown. He certainly didn’t know she was engaged.
Jane lets out a wrecked sob before burying her head in Will’s shoulder, weaving her arms around his middle. It’s a bit of an awkward pose, especially factoring in the amount of white fabric and tulle between them. Will notices very quickly that the dress isn’t very Jane at all.
The others gather round, careful not to crowd her. Max rubs a hand along Jane’s shoulder blade, her concerned eyes meeting Will’s.
“I couldn’t do it.” Jane sobs, pulling away from Will’s chest, her eyes wide and wet. “I couldn’t marry him.”
“Hey, hey, slow down.” Will reassures, careful not to touch her hair, especially when she’s this upset. He helps her to the couch, sitting her down and keeping his distance. “What happened? What’s going on, Jane?”
She raises the heel of her hand to her eyes and wipes at the tears and dripping make-up. A few of the regulars are looking over, raising their eyebrows at the outburst from the random girl who just charged into the cafe. Max shoots a glare at a nosy mother and she looks away in defeat.
“You know Matt,” she says, as if she’s going to continue her sentence. But she just sobs again, folding her face into her hands and slumping back against the cushions.
Will looks around, a little unsure what to do. He’s not exactly used to her outbursts, but he’s acted enough like this himself over the years to know the basics. But he’s never run away from his own secret wedding, so.
“I do.” He says. Dustin sucks his teeth obnoxiously, drawing attention to the phrase Will just used. Lucas thumps him on the back to shut him up.
“I can’t stand him.” She admits, words mushed together in a tone that is so very unlike her. Jane doesn’t beat around the bush - she says everything after having a second to think about it, considered and careful. She is so far from bashful it’s almost funny.
Mike exhales a small sound, somewhere between a huff and a laugh. “Pretty good reason to ditch him at the altar.”
Max elbows his knee where it rests besides her head. Will realises how cramped together they are on the couch.
“We were in the car, on the way to the wedding. He wanted it to be small, just a few of our friends, told me not to invite any family members. But then he smiled at me. I hate his smile. I don’t like his face, or his voice, and sometimes he gets mean for no reason.” Jane rambles, as the others nod along. Will barely remembers Matt, but he had a certain dickhead aura that Dustin had immediately picked up on. Will had pinned it to jealousy, but now he’s thinking of how few times he can recall Dustin being wrong about anything.
“I thought getting married was mature, but what is the point if I can’t even look at him?” she continues, getting up and starting to pace. The others shuffle closer, pinning Will to the centre cushion of the sofa as they follow her steps back and forth. “I have a fashion degree, I have all these dreams that have nothing to do with Matt. What am I doing? Who am I?”
Will gets up, stepping over the coffee table and placing his hands on her arms. “Jane, it’s okay. You don’t have to go back.”
She looks at him with wet eyes. In heels, she’s almost the same height as her brother. “I don’t?”
“Are you kidding?” Max pipes up, keeping her distance but smiling at her best friend. “Jane, you can do whatever the hell you want.”
“Uh huh. Like maybe buying me a plane ticket to Cali so I can kick his ass?” Dustin adds. Jane chuckles, her posture relaxing under Will’s touch as she melts into his arms and hugs him once more.
“Dude, as if. You’ve never won a fight in your life.” Lucas protests, tapping at Dustin’s arm.
“Like father, like son.” Mike sing-songs. Max offers him a high five.
Dustin pulls a face, squawking indignantly. “Dude, you did not just call Steve my dad. That’s an insult to my intelligence.”
“It’s an insult to Steve’s looks.” Max says. Lucas tsks, and Max leans over Dustin’s legs to press a kiss to her boyfriend's cheek.
Will notices Jane staring at them, a smile tugging at her mouth juxtaposing the drying tears still dotted along her face.
“Welcome to my world.” He says, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s nice to have you back.”
Jane is still pacing, still in her wedding dress, still running anxious fingers through her frazzled hair, but now she’s in Will and Mike’s kitchen, her kitten heels squeaking with every turn on the linoleum.
Max is perched on the counter behind her, holding out a packet of Twizzlers that Jane reaches into every few minutes, tearing through the red licorice with one hand and white-knuckling her phone in the other. When it had rung out a few minutes ago, her first reaction had been to drop it into the sink and run the tap, but Will hadn’t let her get that far, and Lucas had encouraged her to answer it just to tell Matt she wasn’t coming back.
Obviously, things are never that simple.
“You did not do anything.” Jane says, pausing to rip the end off of her Twizzler. “I am allowed to change my mind.”
Even from where he stands, slumped against the back of the couch in their open plan living room, Will can hear Matt’s response:
“Not on the day of our wedding, Jane! That isn’t how this shit works. You have to come back, doll. We can figure this out.”
“Doll.” Dustin mutters, from the couch behind Will, wrinkling his nose.
“This is what I want. I am sorry I didn’t do it in the best way, but we have not been happy for a while. I hate arguing, and staying home while you go to work, and I don’t know anyone in California. I have my family here. I have my friends.” She says into the phone, reaching out and taking another thread of red candy.
Will’s face furrows with sympathy, and he looks over and meets Max’s similar expression. He thinks they make a silent agreement then, a pact to keep Jane with them, keep her happy. In a way, life always seems to hate her.
“So that’s it? Janey, we’ve been together since we were 18.” Matt’s response comes out tinny, sounding thin and flimsy. Will does the math in his head: if Jane and Mike broke up in 1986 in Lenora, after meeting on one of her first days out of the lab, and they started college in 1989, then there’s only three years of his sister’s life that she went without a boyfriend. The thought makes him wish he still had powers, and Will is not a violent person.
“Yes. That is it.” Jane confirms. “Goodbye, Matt.”
He starts to say something, but she hangs up the phone before he can, tucking the antenna back into the device and shaking herself out.
“Sorted?” Will asks. He knows that she is fully aware they overheard everything. Jane is not bashful nor subtle.
“Yes. I am going to stay.” she says, leaning against the counter next to Max.
Max ruffles a hand through her hair before pulling her backwards and wrapping her arms around her shoulders in an awkwardly angled hug. The four boys watch on, something sweet and whole settling in Will’s gut. He feels happy for her. He almost feels like they saved her.
One thing's for certain: his sister was never going to make a boring housewife.
“Soooo,” Mike says, bracing his hands on his knees like he’s about to get up off the couch. “What now?”
Will leans forward, peering at the grid displayed on the fridge. “Well, it’s lasagne night.”
“Group cook?” Max asks, still wrapped around Jane but already reaching for the ingredients on the shelf to her right.
“Group cook.” Will and Mike agree simultaneously, dragging Lucas and Dustin to the kitchen with them.
Within minutes, the kitchen is a mess of overflowing pots and too many dishes and cutlery that is only out of place because Mike has no idea what it is supposed to be used for. Jane is sitting on the breakfast bar, dragging a cloth over six plates to thoroughly dry them. Max is boiling pasta, arguing with Mike over the food or a movie they saw together last week, Will isn’t sure. Lucas is assembling the meat, while Will handles the vegetarian option for him and Jane, and Dustin is half in-half out of the fridge, being indecisive on his salad ingredients.
It’s probably the wrong way to make a lasagne, but it’s all Will has ever known, and the others adapt around it. The thought makes him smile.
“Dude, you did not seriously just say Reservoir Dogs is better than Pulp Fiction.” Dustin says, suddenly, popping his head out of the fridge and fixing his glare on Mike. Guess that answers Will’s earlier question.
“Can I not have an opinion in my own house?” Mike argues, gesturing with his hands. Will notices that Mike is the only one doing nothing.
“You can, but you’re wrong.” Dustin says, placing down his chopping board far too aggressively. Will sighs, used to their antics. Jane is watching with an amused smile tugging at her lips.
“I-” Mike starts.
Will cuts him off. “Mike, do something useful.”
“Sir, yes, sir.” Mike replies, with a salute, going to get down a tray for the lasagne to go in the oven.
His dorky reply makes the little flame within Will’s chest ignite a minute amount, the way things with a first love are never quite extinguished. Tammy, Will had said, and he hadn’t meant it, but over time he and Mike had grown into that label. They existed within their own bounds of best-friend-ism, and Mike didn’t know that it had once been something more, and Will had Carlton or whoever his next big-city-boyfriend would be and Mike had the girls he went on dates with, but never brought home, and it was enough.
Was it the life Will had dreamt of, when he was sixteen and overreading every touch of hands or night spent in the same bed or evening tucked too close together on the couch whilst a movie played? No. But it was what he got, and it had taken surviving the end of the world and picking up the pieces. He’s allowed to have the flame, because he knows it will never roar into a blaze again.
He had been right about one thing. His Tammy really wasn’t like him.
Content, fine, the movies with Carlton tonight at nine. Enough. If he pins his life to those few factors, things don’t unravel, and everything stays the way it always has been.
“Time for assembly?” Max asks, peering over her shoulder at Will and Lucas. They spend far too long trying to get everything to fit amongst two dishes, tucking them side by side in the oven.
“Mike has to clean up!” Lucas shouts, quickly, putting his index finger on his nose. The other four follow suit, even Jane who has no idea what they’re doing, and Mike groans as he flops down at the kitchen table.
“I cleaned up last night.” He protests, tucking his head on top of his arms and dropping to the wood surface. Will pats his head sympathetically, threading his fingers through the dark curls.
“Lucas and Dustin, your turn.” Will says. They begin to argue, but Will fixes him with a glare he learnt from Karen Wheeler, that says: this is my house and you will listen to what I tell you. It doesn’t take long for them to sigh in defeat and start washing dishes.
Mike lifts his head, looking up at Will. “Thanks,” he mutters.
Will’s hand is still in his hair. He should probably remove it. “No problem.” He says with a smile.
Jane looks between the two of them curiously, a question blatantly obvious in the brown of her eyes. Will ignores it as he lets go of Mike, dropping onto the couch and turning on the TV.
“Okay, okay. Worst first date?” Dustin prompts, finishing a mouthful of lasagne. A Tellanovella plays on the TV, one they’ve watched before and still can’t fully grasp the plotline of.
“She said I looked like her brother.” Mike replies, his answer locked and loaded.
Lucas nudges his arm, “was that the one you crawled out the bathroom window and I had to meet you at the Subway?”
“Uh huh. Awful night.” Mike says.
“I don’t have a worst first date.” Max says, her legs bracketing Lucas where he sits on the floor, leaning back against the couch. “But there was that time we got stuck in the movie theatre after it closed.”
“That’s our worst date? Do you not remember what happened afterwards? Because I do. Vividly.” Lucas says, turning around to face her and winking.
“My bad, stalker. Wasn’t exactly practical, though.”
Will wrinkles his nose. “TMI, Max.”
“Oh, please, I’ve told you much worse than that over the years.” she says, leaning into his side and squeezing his forearm. “Fine, worst date was when we got stuck in the elevator.”
“Agreed.” Lucas reaches up and high-fives his girlfriend. “Dude, I was so freaked out.”
“Valid fear.” Mike mumbles. “Will?”
Will thinks it over. The five of them have conversations like this almost every day, finding out bits and pieces about each other’s lives until they have enough to build the bigger picture. His therapist, Nicole, says it's codependent, but not in a bad way. Will is just grateful his friends are all alive to hear about his unfortunate hook-ups.
“Do you remember Ryan?” He asks.
“TV repair Ryan?” Dustin says, thinking it over. “Or Ryan who worked at the zoo?”
“Neither. Zoey-From-Upstair’s brother Ryan.”
“Ohh, dog trainer Ryan!” Lucas says.
“I think he coaches kids basketball now.” Will says, “but, yeah. Took me to a restaurant, then ditched me halfway through. Turns out his ex was the waiter. Ouch.”
“Dude! You’re kidding me.” Max says, outraged.
“Cross my heart.” Will confesses, slumping back into the couch and eating his dinner.
The others keep talking, rinsing Dustin for his lack of romantic connections after his break up with Suzie eight months ago, prodding Jane about Matt’s most embarrassing flaws. Will knows for certain he’s the only one in the room who notices that Mike shuffles closer to his leg, gives his ankle a comforting squeeze out of sight of the others, then keeps his hand against the hem of Will’s pant leg. Will reaches down and ruffles Mike’s hair as a silent recognition: you see me and I see you.
“Did he just kiss his sister?” Dustin says, snapping his fingers at the television screen, suddenly zeroed in on the complex drama playing.
Max leans closer to the screen. “No. That’s his twin’s girlfriend. I think.”
“No, he had a goatee. The brother was wearing red.” Lucas points out, running a hand through his beard like this is something that needs deep thought.
“I swear the brother was in a suit.” Mike butts in.
“Wait. How many brothers are there?” Jane asks, looking around as if any of them understand what they’re watching.
“Will, you speak Spanish. Tell us who’s who.” Dustin urges.
Will chuckles, still eating. “Barely. But I think the girlfriend was in silver, her ex boyfriend was a twin, and his twin brother is in the red.”
Lucas considers it. “But then who’s the ex-girlfriend?”
They keep bickering, the story continuing on the screen until they’ve lost the thread of plot entirely and see no point in continuing. It gets to the point that Dustin retrieves the Spanish dictionary Will keeps on his bookshelf in his bedroom, which is redundant because the show has ended. He makes Max promise to find out what happened, and whether it really had taken an incestuous turn, from her friendly Hispanic co-worker on Monday.
“Stereotyping much?” Max prods, stacking the plates and dumping them in the kitchen sink.
“Don’t pull that card.” Dustin replies, following her with six empty glasses clutched in his hands. “I had a conversation with her about this exact show the other week at the coffee shop.”
“Fine.” Max finishes, leaning back against the sink. “Jane, where are you staying tonight?”
Jane looks between the five of them with wide eyes, considering her options. Will and Mike have two bedrooms, but she’s welcome to stay on their couch or bunk in with Will. He even thinks if he and his sister pestered Mike enough, he would take the couch and give Jane his room for the night.
Dustin and Lucas are right across the hall, two bedrooms in their apartment which should be spacious but is crammed with so much clutter and nerdy memorabilia that it’s almost claustrophobic. Will knows either boy would offer Jane a bedroom in a heartbeat. He thinks they share sometimes anyway, a sneaking suspicion caused by too many overheard arguments about unmade sheets and discarded towels.
Max lives in the building over the street, her floor a little lower than Will and Mike’s, the perfect distance away to communicate from the balcony. It’s only a studio, but Max is somewhere in a comfortable space between maximalism and minimalism that basically means she has a lot of stuff, but also a lot of drawers to hide it in.
Jane, obviously, doesn’t know any of this, because she’s been in New York for four hours. But Will isn’t surprised when she says:
“Max. Is that okay?”
“You kidding? I’ve been looking for a roommate.” Max says, hugging Jane against her. It’s a complete lie: Will can’t think of any worse combination than Max Mayfield and a random roommate. But Jane knows what she wants, and Max is happy to give it to her.
“I’m gonna get home. You good with the dishes?” Max says, looking towards Will and bringing an arm around Jane’s shoulders.
He nods, giving her a thumbs up as the two girls leave, giggling down the hallway. Lucas and Dustin help with the dishes, taking hardly any time with all four of them for a change. When they realise it’s half ten, they race back to their apartment as Dustin reminds Lucas of some TV special they wanted to catch.
Will waves them off, shutting the door and flopping against the blue painted wood.
Mike folds himself around him, pulling him closer than close in a hug that knocks the wind out of him. He tucks his head into Will’s neck, and Will responds by playing gently with his hair, and for a second the gasoline poured on the flickering flame in his chest feels like a way to silence the rest of the world, drowning out even the city noise.
“What’s this for?” Will mumbles, hugging Mike’s shoulders, feeling his roommate’s relatively strong arms tucked around the small of his back.
Mike hums, the sound rumbling against Will’s cheek. “I’m glad she’s back. The whole Party’s back together.”
Will clenches his arms around Mike, a little reassuring squeeze, somewhere to pour the smoke that emerges from the flame, a little bittersweet treat for himself. They linger there for a minute, clutching each other in the kitchen in a way that’s quite clingy and very personal and something they’ve developed into over the years.
Will is about to disentangle himself when Mike clears his throat.
“Uh, Will?”
“Mh?”
“What time were you supposed to meet Carlton?”
Will pulls away, his eyes wide, snapping to the clock above the fridge.
10:32.
He was meant to meet Carlton at nine.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Will shouts, “do you think he’ll still be at the movies?”
“Only one way to find out.” Mike says, an anxious edge to his voice. “Tell him about Jane, I’m sure he’ll understand. If he isn’t there, call me and I’ll meet you at the Subway station.”
Will bustles around the apartment, grabbing his denim jacket, key and wallet. He gives Mike a quick smile before heading out of the apartment.
On his way out, Mike returns it, something unspoken in the dark pools of his eyes.