‘oh i feel the rush !!!’- mike wheeler in this, i guess.?? loser mike x popular!reader, teasing in the name of science, feelings explode, attempted embarrassmen, very high tension ???. masterlist. word count= 3.5k. i love troye sivan 👏 dedicated to @lydiiunicorn 🫶
you don’t like being called the ‘golden child’ of hawkins high. it sounds like a premonition to be the kid who peaks in school, and you have ambitions a little grander than that. still, in function, that description is about right.
you lead the cheer team, and you’re on track to challenging dustin henderson to be valedictorian (although, him and his stupid friends are adamant that you’re not even close. which is lie. your grade average is only 0.3% lower than his).
there’s something comforting about school not being a place you dread. you can see that’s not the same for everyone, from their glares in the hallway.
funnily enough, though, dustin’s aforementioned losers seem surprisingly jolly. their hollers and laughs are as loud as your groups in the lunch hall, and they throw back any shouts with twice the twice, and twice the confidence.
you try not to antagonise them- frankly, they’re not worth the brain power. and you’ve managed to avoid them all pretty well (aside from lucas- but everyone likes lucas). you only see dustin at the club they pretend aren’t for the future ivy-league students, and max is practically a ghost in your history class.
the emo one, mick (you think), is the one you hear the most complaints about. a ‘pompous prick’ was the most recent one. but you’d never reacted with him, until-
‘sorry, i’m late. this is physics, right? they’ve moved my class.’
you blink, staring at him. mick (?) waits for a reply, slinging his bag onto the table and sitting down.
‘uh, yeah. this is physics. but this seat-‘
marcus, who actually sits there, walks in. when he sees his chair is taken, his jaw slackens. you shoot him apologetic smile, with an ‘i’ll explain later’ expression, but he just shakes his head and saunters further into the class.
‘great. this schools admin fuckin’ sucks. i’m mike, by the way. obviously, i know who you are.’
you give him a slightly cold stare, but nod. he waits for a reply, but he never gets one.
‘right. okay. sorry, am i okay to sit here? or is talking to someone like me not allowed.’
you roll your eyes at him. ‘what are you talking about, mick?’
‘mike.’ he corrects, and you groan.
‘sorry. i’m trying to-like- listen? this is my worst class.’
his eyes widen a little in surprise. ‘huh, really. i didn’t realise you were bad at anything.’
you shrug. ‘i’m not. my grade average is 91%’
he gives you a sympathetic look. ‘well, mine is 93%. let me know if you need any help.’
mike relaxes a little, stretching. his leg bumps yours under the desk, and you scowl, but don’t give him any more of a reaction.
that is until you hear a ‘-and partners for this assignment are based on the seating chart.’
‘shit.’ you complain, dropping your head into your hands.
‘excuse me? i’m right here, you know.’
you glare at him. ‘yeah, i fucking know. thats the issue.’
he narrows his eyes. ‘right. sorry you can’t be with your head-empty pretty boyfriend and you’re stuck with me instead.’
‘you think he’s pretty, mike? i’ll let him know.’
you wait for him to redden, to straighten, but his expression barely changes.
you’re almost impressed.
‘my house, after school. then we can get it over with.’
‘sure, but my house instead.’ he replies.
you shrug. ‘whatever. now, don’t talk to me for the rest of the lesson, ‘kay?’
‘yes ma’am.’
‘so, if the force is applied here instead, that should solve it.’
mike narrows his eyes.
‘i think you might be right, actually. but this- it feels too easy.’
you shrug. ‘maybe it’s meant to be. considering we actually know what we’re doing.’
he hums.
you’re stretched out on your stomach across the rug, pen between your teeth. he’s sitting on his couch, watching you.
without warning, you feel a hand on the side of your leg.
‘mike-‘ you hiss. he chuckles.
‘bend your leg up slowly. i want to try something.’
you’re not sure why you oblige so readily, but you move. the press of his fingers becomes firmer, the close to 90 degrees you get.
as your leg reaches fully bent, he pushes a little too hard, and you wince.
‘what was that for?’ you ask, twisting your neck to look at him. he hums.
‘i just- i wondered if pressure could make a difference. if maybe you wouldn’t make it all the way.’
his fingers are still resting lazily on your bare leg, and you shift, sitting up.
‘okay. my turn, then. come down here.’
a flicker of confusion passes over his face, but he slinks off the couch anyway, resting against it as he crosses his legs.
you take a curl of his hair between your fingers, twisting it absentmindedly. he inhales.
‘i want you to keep your head straight here. if it moves, you lose.’
‘what- what are you investigating?’
‘tension.’ you reply quickly, biting back a smile.
then you pull. a light tug. his head shifts instinctively.
‘right. idea is you’re applying an opposing force, yeah?’
he swallows. ‘alright. just- be gentle.’
you chuckle. ‘i’m not going to hurt you, idiot. if you’re a wimp, i can just push my hand against your face.’
he purses his lips. ‘i’ll be fine. go, c’mon.’
you shake your head. ‘no, actually, you’re right. if it’s painful, we won’t get the most effective results.’
you bring your palm to the side of his face, and you push.
you can feel him resisting the motion, pressing back against you. so you push harder.
he turns a little pink at the effort, but you don’t let off.
‘okay, imagine you’re the object. how does it change, when i move my hand?’
your hand shifts upwards, so it’s on the very edge of his head, your fingers folding over to the top.
you can feel him relax a little.
‘okay, yeah. that’s easier.’
you nod, snaking your hand further down, resting near his chin.
‘and here?’
‘easier too.’
you grin. ‘so, my theory is correct.’
his eyes, previously locked forward, at some crack in the wall, shift to you.
you drop your hand to your sides instinctively, digging your palm into the rough fabric below, as if to scrape the heat of his face away.
‘well.’ he exhales, scrunching his face up a little.
‘well?’ you murmur, noticing how his ears have gone a little pink.
‘i guess, i mean, if we’re done- you can go home. or like, we could get a pizza, or something. if you have nothing better to do, which i bet you do, cause, y’know, you’re you. and hanging out with me is probably a nightmare, so. you can wake up now.’
from your one class today, you’ve learnt one thing. mike is a rambler. but not an absent one- every monologue, every extra sentence- they’re all intentional. a string of calculated words.
this, though? this isn’t like the muffled murmurs from class, when he was clearly trying to agitate you with running commentary. this is entirely different.
‘mike, do i make you nervous?’
you’re not entirely sure why you’ve just asked that. maybe it’s because he’s looking at you a little like you’re a whole different species, and you’re looking at him like he’s something to figure out.
‘what?’
‘me. you look nervous. why is that?’
‘i’m not. i don’t really get nervous, actually. one of my few rewardable talents.’
you narrow your eyes. ‘right. sure.’ ‘is that another theory we need to test out?’
this is funny, you decide. that’s the justification you’re going with.
‘oh.oh. thats not very scientific.’ he replies.
‘you’re going red.’
‘m’not.’
‘y’are.’
it’s slightly tentative, how you drag your palm back to the side of his face, letting is brush closer to his cheek than his ear.
‘i’m not going to push this time.’ you chuckle, watching as he tenses.
‘this isn’t very scientific.’ he repeats, a little shakily.
‘admit you’re nervous.’
you’ve also figured mike might be quite stubborn. you’ve always been good at reading people.
‘no. cause i’m not.’
you lean forward a little now. ‘have you ever kissed anyone before, mike?’
maybe he should be offended you’re asking. but his hair is messy, and he knows he doesn’t wash his hellfire shirt enough, and sure, maybe the only girl anyone ever sees him with is max. and it’s not like they’re all that affectionate.
‘yeah. yeah, i have.’
he groans. ‘don’t look at me like that. i’m telling the truth, i swear.’
you laugh, and he can feel your breath on his face. he nearly shudders.
‘i know, im teasing you. lacey did tell me.’
his eyes widen a little. ‘you- you talked about me?’
‘about the loser she kissed when she was drunk a few weeks ago? yeah, you came up. why do you think she pulls her hood up when jason yells over at your table?’
his eyes flick down to your thumb, which is tracing a gentle circle around the edge of his mouth.
‘i don’t get why you’re so obsessed with us. it’s funny- you can’t handle that we don’t give a shit about you-‘ he begins, hoping his words are hitting you, somewhere. they don’t, and he falls silent when he feels the gentle press of your lips to where your finger had just been.
not quite a kiss. oddly, it feels more intimate. more calculated.
oh, he blinks. you’re mean. this is mean.
‘admit it.’ you repeat, quietly. ‘i want your theory to be wrong.’
he wonders how he should play this. he opts to tell the truth.
‘yeah. okay, fine. i’m nervous.’
you raise a satisfied eyebrow. ‘okay. how nervous?’
he looks at you in disbelief, at the grin dancing around your face.
‘c’mon, michael. this is for science.’
he sighs. ‘pretty nervous. okay?’
you can’t help but giggle.
‘okay. so, let’s test this out. tell me if you’re more or less nervous, alright?’
his eyes widen again, almost in fear. and then it dissipates, when your lips are ghosting near his forehead.
‘more or less?’ you mumble, brushing against his skin. he shivers, but it’s more bearable, because you’re harder to look at.
‘less.’
you nod, pressing your fingers to the side of his jaw, and titling his head. now, your breath hits the side of his neck. he inhales.
‘more.’
he doesn’t need to look down to imagine the smirk spreading over your face.
‘yeah?’
‘yeah.’
you laugh, shifting away from him.
‘great. got a conclusion, then. i’ll see you in class. bye, mike.’
he gives you a bewildered look. ‘are you- what? you’re-‘
‘leaving. yep. i’ve got pizza at home, and like you said- my worst nightmare, and all that.’
you’re already halfway up the stairs before he’s even begun to digest what just happened, and why the warmth of your almost-lips is spreading across his entire body.
the next week, mike starts scheming. you were right-he is stubborn. but he’s also competitive. and he was right too-he usually doesn’t get nervous. he’s sure, when you’re not alone in his basement, you’ll be just as easy to rile up.
he arrives at class early that morning. just early enough to grab the seat next to you before you can save it for that marcus kid.
when you see him already there, he watches as you audibly sigh.
‘hello, mike. you can move now.’
he shrugs. ‘can. don’t want to.’
‘why not? aren’t you friends with that boy in the corner?’
mike doesn’t bother turning. he just smiles up at you, and it’s so warm, you’re not entirely sure what to do with yourself.
‘stop- don’t look at me like that.’
‘like what?’
you just roll your eyes. ‘if this is about the other night, i’m sorry. i don’t know why i did that. i thought it was funny. which, it wasn’t. i didn’t mean to-‘
he tuts, looking at the chalkboard now. ‘except, well, you did. didn’t you?’
‘no, seriously. it was-‘ you begin, but you fall silent, feeling his leg press into yours. it’s too certain to be anything but intentional, but gentle enough that it could be an accident. so you just clear your throat, and jot down the date.
he shifts his foot, so it’s resting over yours, your limbs near glued together now.
definitely intentional.
‘mike.’ you mutter, the sound only audible to him.
‘what?’
‘stop it.’
he stretches, leaning back a little. enough that it’s still casual, but it means his mouth is a lot closer to your ear.
‘am i making you nervous?’
you turn, with a little outrageous glare.
‘oh, don’t be a little bitch.’
he shrugs. ‘ignore me. if you can.’
‘i can.’ you grumble.
it seems you're stubborn too.
about twenty minutes later, you’ve almost forgotten it. you’ve got used to the weight of his leg agaisnt yours, and you’re genuinely enjoying these calculations.
then, you feel him shift in his seat beside you, pushing his chair back.
he bends forward, tying his lace. you look back up at the board, unbothered.
that is, until you feel his hand brush over your jeans, resting lazily on your inner thigh. you wait for him to move it. it seems he’s not going to.
‘mike.’ you repeat, a little more bitter this time.
‘yeah?’
‘what are you doing?’
he shrugs. ‘n’thing. well, question four, if we want to be accurate. i got -87N, did you? they ought to add some weight.’
with that, he adds some force his hand. it’s not resting anymore, it’s half gripping. you inhale, and hope your cheeks don’t betray you, by flushing a dangerous red.
it seems they do, from his quiet chuckle.
‘you really should admit it, now.’
‘fine. only cause it’ll make you stop.’
he raises an eyebrow impatiently.
‘mike, you’re making me nervous.’
the way you say his name, a little mangled, a little desperate, makes his own breath hitch.
you grab his palm, knocking it back away and shifting your chairs further apart. he realises he’s not the only intentional one- that tone, that broken whisper of his name- you’d won. and he hadnt even realised you were still playing.
that afternoon, he’s late to hellfire. he hates being late to hellfire, because everyone shares stupid things from their day. he knows he should love the game part of it, but that bit, the bit that makes them feel like family, is extra special.
his face falls when he walks into the room.
‘mike, we have a temporary guest. she said you guys are friends, so, you need to show her the ropes.’
you beam at him, giving him an enthusiastic wave.
‘hii, mike. i figured doing something out of my comfort zone would be good, and thought of you.’
someone beside you nearly chokes, and eddie laughs, loud and unbothered.
‘since when is this happening? good on you, mike. i know you’ve had a thing for her for a while.’ the guy sat nearest to eddie adds, and mike groans, sitting beside you with as much grace as he can muster.
‘we sit together in physics, s’all.’ he explains, and you nod.
‘yeah, and it’s not my choice. he’s a pain in the ass.’
‘we can agree on that.’ dustin jokes, and you give him a sympathetic smile
when he inhales, slumping in his seat, you pounce. ‘thing for me? for a while? oh, mike. why didn’t you tell me?’ you whisper, grinning up at him.
he decides the only way he’s surviving this is if he ignores you completely.
that actually works, for the most part. you get surprisingly into the game, yelling alongside the rest of them.
still, what stings worse, is you both forget. forget that this is some stupid, grand tease. that the way you’re leaning into him, hair tickling his neck, isn’t meant to happen. not if you didn’t want it to.
but you didn’t plan that, it happened.
or when you’d bent under the desk, trying to pick up some discarded dice, and he’d covered the edge of the table with his palm like it was second nature.
when he’d reached over you to pass something to dustin, using your shoulder to steady himself, and you hadn’t complained.
he doesn’t sit with you next class. he settles in the corner.
you don’t look disappointed to see him there, and that sucks. but after half the kids at hellfire had taken the piss, made a relentless stream of jokes, he’d decided he wanted this over. you’d finished the project in record time, you’d won everything else, and somehow infiltrated hellfire and left it better than it had been before. he doesn’t understand how you do it.
‘mike wheeler, can you stay back? and you.’ your teacher calls, as you’re packing up. you turn around, giving mike a curious look, and he just shrugs.
‘so, this is good work. i mean, it’s right. but i realised, its too easy for you. consider this one extra credit.’
‘i don’t need extra credit.’ you mutter, reading over the sheet of paper you’ve been given.
‘neither do i.’ mike adds, and your teacher sighs.
‘okay, well. i’m offering it to dustin and his partner too, so-‘
‘we’ll get it done this weekend.’ you snap, and mike just sighs quietly beside you.
on saturday, you’re back in his basement.
‘why didn’t you sit with me?’ you ask absent mindedly, scribbling down numbers. he pauses.
‘why do you care?’
‘jesus, just asking. did i go too far, coming to hellfire? i can’t tell with you.’
‘no, no. well, kinda. but it was fun, so it’s okay. i’ll show up to your cheer practice next week.’ he jokes, but it sounds a little flat.
you turn, sitting up and dragging your knees to your chest, looking at him.
‘was that guy- was he being serious? about you- you being into me?’
mike huffs awkwardly.
‘i wouldn’t go that far. it just- well, everyone loves you, don’t they? it’s just like that. it’s your, your effect. whatever. it’s stupid. and trust me, now i know you, it’s warn off.’
you chuckle. ‘sure, mike. is that another theory for me to test, or?’
‘i’d rather you didn’t.’
his tone is so firm, you nearly startle.
‘excuse me?’
‘it’s just- you kind of- ugh. this is so embarrassing. i get this kind of rush, when you seem into me. that’s normal, isn’t it? anyway, i figured it’s not- cause it’s just a game, so it doesn’t count. but i thought its kinda weird, for the both of us. and i just, it was so, ugh. you being right there, but not really, becasue its not real. it’s like being close to having something you didn’t realise you even could have. but in the end, you can’t.’
you take it in, slowly.
you blink.
‘how do you know you can’t have me?’
‘what?’
‘you didn’t ask. you didn’t- i mean, you could’ve just kissed me last time we were here, but you didn’t. you watched me go bright red in class when you- and you ignored it. i’m just saying- it’s not like you tried very hard.’
he guffaws. ‘oh, come on. you’re you. you can’t expect me-‘
‘mike. you keep saying that. yeah, i’m me, whatever the fuck that means. but i’m here, aren’t i?’
he pauses, as you stand.
‘this is stupid. let’s work on this after school, okay? i’m going home.’
you begin to shuffle away, but he grabs your arm.
‘wait. don’t- don’t leave.’
you hesitate, and that’s enough for him. he stands, bringing his other hand to the back of your head, tugging him towards you.
you let out a mangled sigh, and the sound rushes to his stomach.
he considers making some snarky comment, but the risk is far too high, especially when you’re looking at him like you want this, want him.
‘do you- can i-?’
you bring a hand near his chin, making him look up and away from you, and you bring your lips near his neck again.
‘yeah, yeah. please.’
he grins instinctively, pulling your hand away and pressing your mouths together.
you hiss into him, hands tangling in the hair that’s curling by his neck. he stumbles, the back of his legs hitting the couch, and you both fall back. he catches you as best he can, without letting you pull your mouth away. you shift your leg over his, trying to get more comfortable.
you push your foreheads together, catching your breath.
‘how long is a while?’
‘are you seriously asking that right now?’ he groans.’ and you nod, raising an eyebrow.
‘sure, when else?’
‘it was a while. and for the record, i knew it was physics. and i made marcus late.’
‘mike!’ you gasp, but he focuses more on the steady pink spreading over your face than the way you’ve said his name.
i hate when i tell someone i dislike an artist and they’re like ‘oh but you listen to them? how else would i know i dislike them? my disdain comes from a place of knowledge, fool
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