madwheeler scoops ahoy fic
mike comes out to max but it's robin's coming out to steve reheated; madwheeler's friendship was still rough around the edges in S3, so maybe they fight instead of laugh before the drugs wear off. like this?
"Wait- wait!" Mike kicks the door of the bathroom stall open. He hasn't even registered that Max is on the floor and leaning on the toilet seat when he starts shouting again: "Why are you implying that this was my fault?"
"Because this is your fault. Shut up for a second, please."
Max sighs, already done with hearing Mike's arguments. She drowsily pushes the flush handle, watching her vomit (and the hotdog she had for breakfast today) go down the trapway. All she can hear is ringing.. and whatever the hell Mike is doing.
He's revving up for a monologue, that's what. His nose flares with every breath, and he scoffs as he does. To Max, he's starting to look like a grumpy Chester, the Byers' dog who totally didn't go missing that Max totally met. Look at him, pointing his hand at Max every time he starts a new sentence:
"You put yourself up to this! You said you know Russian because you liked the Red Son. You offered to translate. You convinced Erica to help out. You single-handedly solved the riddle after you translated it. You put yourse—"
“Jesus Christ, I get it! You really are your father’s fucking son!"
Max didn’t mean to say that. Why did she say that? She shouldn't have said that.
Mike widens his eyes, like he can't believe what he just heard. His gaping mouth frozen with the sudden cold silence. Max expected him to be offended. No, actually, she expected Mike to shout - maybe even raise his hand at her just like how her stepbrother does when she upsets him - but no.
Mike replies, looking the opposite direction. His eyes land on his reflection on the bathroom mirror across the stalls. Max can't figure out what's in his head anymore.
"Whatever, Wheeler." She can't look at him now. She sits down on the tiled floor, crossing her legs. A sigh escapes her lips before she whispers: "Sorry."
"I'm nothing like my dad, Maxine."
"..Fucking government-naming my ass. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. I just wanted to work today. Have fun solving Russian riddles. Not.. not any of this."
Mike slides down on the floor, his knees to his chest, across from Max. She continues to stare at the ceiling. Mike sighs, closing his eyes. "What if we overdose from what they gave us? The last words I'll remember from you are awful as fuck, Max."
Max scoffs, "Well.. If we are dying.. I got a few curiosities I want satisfied before I go." She clears her throat, "You and El. You broke up months ago."
"Yeah." Mike fixes the way he's sitting, straightening his back. He opens his eyes and makes eye contact.
"It's just weird you never got back together. I mean, Lucas and I have broken up—"
"Five times." They say in unison. Mike rolls his eyes, and Max chuckles in response.
"I know, but I just- I had- other things to think about."
"Blah, blah, friends don't lie. What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Will's supposed to be better, right? Like, Nancy says she saw the exact moment the Mindflayer stopped possessing Will."
Max wonders why Will is suddenly brought up when she's asking about Mike's relationship with El. She decides to listen, because he tends to ramble before getting to the point anyway.
"And, like, he is better. He hangs out with us all of the time and he smiles like nothing bad ever happened. But- but- every time.. every time I look into his eyes, I just- Max, I worry. I do nothing but worry about Will."
She tilts her head. He's still not answering her question. She doesn't know if she should interfere because for the first time in a long time, Mike looks like the same worried kid she saw in a Ghostbuster jumpsuit one Halloween ago. The image never left her head. Will looked so much smaller, and she didn't mean by stature. He was holding his knees close to his chest, sitting at the bottom of the stairs by some rando's house. He looked like he was being haunted for real. She was surprised, of course, but what surprised her even more was Mike.
Mike looked terrified. She remembers how tight he held onto Will's shoulders, asking if he was okay. Max was going to check if Will had any injuries just in case, but Mike's body already formed a forcefield around Will. He was in tears, unable to utter a single word, before Mike probably took him home.
Mike continues to talk: "I was so worried about Will that I.. couldn't think about anything else. About anyone else...
"You know how- when you, uh- do you know Tammy Thompson?"
Max shrugs. "Yeah, sure. She's that senior who has fluffy hair. Always starring in the school plays."
Mike chuckles, nodding. He looks at the ceiling, like he's remembering a fond memory. "You know that I had to tag along for Nancy's prom night, right? - I didn't want to go, but- you know Nancy."
"She knows how to shoot a rifle." Max smiled.
Mike nodded. "Well, I went out to the hallway in the middle of the dance. Then there was this tall girl, sitting by the lockers in the dark. I didn't get to see her face, but she started talking about Tammy Thompson. About- about-" He pauses to look into Max’s eyes.
"About how much she liked her and how she should be the one Tammy is dancing with, and not Craig."
It was now turn for Max to widen her eyes, but only for a split second. The concept of girls liking girls wasn't exactly new to her. Why is Mike bringing this poor girl's story into their conversation?
"Max, I.. While she- While she was talking-" Mike looked like he was having trouble breathing. But he kept going. His eyes showed a resolve that whatever he's trying to say needs to come out. To Max, Mike looked like he was trying to be brave.
"I thought back to the Snowball Dance. You were dancing with Lucas. Me with El. Dustin with Nancy. And Will with some mouthbreathing girl."
Mike's eyes started to get glassy. Well, I’ve never seen that before, Max thought to herself.
"I didn't want Will to dance with that girl. But I told him to go for it. I- fuck, dude- I hated seeing him dance with her.“ Mike sniffles, "I guess to make it clear, I- I really- I like Will. A lot."
Max raises an eyebrow, totally unphased. "I know that, Wheeler. Everyone knows that. Besides, I wouldn't want him to dance with an asshole as well. I like him too—"
Mike Wheeler has that look on his face as if he were a puppy who ate all the chocolate and caused a mess on the carpet again. Max couldn’t understand why at first, but when a tear falls from his eye and straight to the floor… She connects the dots. Max's eyes widen.
A hush fell into the stall they were sitting in. The silence almost felt like a hug, rather than being uncomfortable. Mike's lips form a tight line, trying to hide how it's quivering.
"You have good taste." Max breaks the quiet, grinning.
Mike can only weakly smile back, before looking away, sobbing.
"God, I hope Will likes you back." Max scoots over to his side, gently nudging his shoulder with her own. She wipes a tear from her cheek that she didn't know was there.
"Ha. Told you I'm not like my dad."