sometimes i think about the girls telling their families after graduation. and the comedic (but also angst) potential that has
like, imagine the lore dumps they'd have. like, oh yeah, emma accidentally killed miriam that one time, or rikki's been kidnapped four times, or hey, that lady down by the docks people said was a witch? she was actually a mermaid too
Watching him dance is one thing, but Eddie is breathless from the firm but gentle grip on his waist and the warm hand in his.
“Fast-paced song, huh, babydoll?” Billy breathes. He draws his arm back and spins Eddie around once, slides up behind him and secures a hand on his hip again. There are lips close to his ear the next time he speaks. “Left one, right two, sugar, don’t even think about it. Just do.”
Eddie listens. Looks down at his feet as he moves, smiling when Billy’s chin hooks over his shoulder.
Footloose might not do it for him anymore after this, he decides. Not when he’s experienced what it’s like to have California, hot and eager, pressed against his back. Not with Dire Straits in one ear and soft counting in the other.
“You’re a natural,” Billy lilts. “Best partner I’ve had all night.”
Eddie laughs. Tosses his head back against Billy’s shoulder and hums when lips ghost over his throat.
“I’m stepping all over your boots, Hargrove.”
“Mm, but you look cute doin’ it.”
Every skipped dance suddenly feels like a grave loss. Eddie can’t think about that for too long, though, because the hand at his waist grips softly and a hot puff of air rises goosebumps against his neck.
“Gonna spin you around, then you mirror me, alright?” Billy whispers.
Eddie nods. Gasps when he’s twirled and brought right back in like a boomerang, hips locking with Billy’s again.
There’s a grin on the blond’s face, just inches away, and Eddie does good to mirror it with his own lopsided smile. Chuckles and tilts their foreheads together as they drift all over the dance floor.
Stranger Things fic. Mike & Will. Will-POV. Mike-POV. Gen.
Summary: Will dreams of the Wheeler’s basement. Mike avoids the empty Byers house
Series: Seventeen Seconds
Notes: post season 3, minor spoilers for season 4 Vol. 1, implied Will/Mike, mentioned Mike/El, introspection, angst
Also on Ao3
On the first night in their new home at Lenora Hills, Will found himself unable to sleep. Everything felt wrong. His bed was in the wrong spot, the window was too wide, the creaking of the house sounded strange and unfamiliar. Even his bed – the same bed frame and mattress from Hawkins – felt uncomfortable.
After tossing and turning for hours, he gave up with an exasperated sigh and got up to get a glass of water.
The clock in the kitchen told him it was 2am. He was supposed to be starting at his new school in the morning. Maybe dark bags under the eyes was a popular trend out in California. If not, his first impression to the student body at Lenora Hills High School was going to be rather lackluster.
Finishing his drink, he rinsed his glass and set it on the sink to dry then went back to his room.
Will closed the door behind him and stared at his new room instead of climbing into bed. It was bigger than his old one – though it didn’t seem like it at the moment, with moving boxes stacked against the walls. He did like that he had room to move about and set up more of his art supplies, but that small joy was overshadowed by how unsettling the whole situation still felt.
He contemplated his bed and considered crawling back in to just lie down and stare at the ceiling until exhaustion forced sleep upon him.
Instead, Will walked over to one of the unopened boxes and grabbed his scissors from his desk to rip open the tape. He pulled out his old sleeping bag.
He set himself up on the floor with the sleeping bag and his pillow. It wasn’t much better than his bed, but at least from down here it was easier to pretend like he was at a sleepover – that he would be going home in the morning – rather than trapped in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar house for an undetermined period of time.
He could pretend he was down in the Wheeler’s basement, camped out next to Mike.
If Will closed his eyes, he could imagine the way Mike would smile mischievously as he egged Will and the rest of the Party into breaking the post-curfew silence rule. He could remember laughing at Lucas and Dustin’s farting contests and the way Mike would shush everyone when they got too loud and risked the wrath of his parents – never mind that he was usually the one to raise his voice first.
He could imagine the way Mike would whisper to him when the others fell asleep, leaning closer to share midnight secrets.
Will imagined he whispered his most cherished secret back. He imagined Mike’s blush and the joy shining in his dark eyes. He imagined what might happen next
On the floor of his new room in California, Will dreamed of a night in Hawkins that would never be and finally slept.
***
Mike didn’t actually realise how easy it was to avoid the Byers’ house until he found himself riding past it four weeks into the new school year for the first time since it was vacated. Mike lived at the opposite end of Hawkins and both the school and the arcade – the two main places outside his house that he spent time in – were both situated between the Wheeler and Byers residences. He had no reason to be at the opposite end of town any more.
Maybe if he had, seeing the familiar house sitting empty and untouched wouldn’t have hit him so hard when he found himself riding past on his bike on a Friday afternoon.
He was supposed to be meeting Eddie. Something about a ‘special’ initiation that each member of the Hellfire club went through. Mike wasn’t totally sure he believed it (considering that the rest of the Hellfire club had been friends with Eddie since their days in middle school), but Dustin apparently had his last week and wouldn’t shut up about how awesome an experience it was. Even if he (somehow) refrained from going into any detail about it. Even now he wasn’t convinced it wasn’t some sort of prank that Dustin was in on. He wouldn’t put it past him. Mike did steal the last of his Cheetos the other day.
Lucas was apparently up next week but he seemed disinterested in the whole thing. To be fair, Max had been blowing him off ever since they got to high school. She’d been blowing them all off, but Lucas was her boyfriend and he was taking it pretty hard.
Mike understood. He’d penned his first letter to El only two hours after she’d left, but it wasn’t the same as talking in person – being with her.
Just like how being here, sitting on his bike in front of the Byers house – knowing Will wasn’t behind the door if he climbed up the porch steps to knock – wasn’t the same.
The new owners hadn’t been by to do anything to the place – not even to mow the lawn or clean up after the rain last week. There was no damage or obvious signs of dereliction, but the house felt abandoned.
Now that he was here – no longer avoiding (consciously or not) the feelings threatening to crush him if he sat with them too long – Mike found himself shaking as he sat on his seat.
It wasn’t fair. Everything that had happened to Will – to Will’s family. They didn’t deserve it. They deserved to have a safe and happy life – even if that life was outside of Hawkins.
And yet, Mike wished they hadn’t left. He felt guilty for the thought but he hadn’t allowed himself to admit to it before. He let himself be selfish, even if only in his mind, for just a moment.
He wished he’d been enough for Will (and El) to stay.
But he wasn’t. He couldn’t protect El when it mattered and he certainly didn’t protect Will.
Maybe it really was better that they left – that the only contact they had with him was painfully rewritten letters that took weeks to arrive. Maybe they’d be better with no contact at all. (He still hadn’t been able to bring himself to pick up a pen for Will. Not yet. It was too hard. The hurt – his feelings – it was too raw, too overwhelming. He told himself he didn't know what to say. Mike was getting rather good at lying to himself.)
Maybe, Mike thought as he rode away from the old Byers house – fighting back the same sort of tears he'd shed when riding back from the quarry on that awful night two years ago – if he just pretended hard enough, everything would go back to normal. That this move would be good for El and Will and the Byers’. That they all needed time away to deal with the horrors that had dominated their lives for so long. That things would be better, just like everyone said.
Maybe, if he tried hard enough, he could pretend to be glad for their happiness.
But normal? Happy? Mike was starting to realise these concepts weren’t meant for him. Not anymore.
The day whizzed by Manon in a blur of assignments and overheard excited chatter about Paris’ new dynamic duo. She moved from class to class without a thought, but the narrative of the students around her remained the same buzz of excitement and wonder. Before she knew it, the final bell was ringing, and it was time for her to take her leave and head home.
Emotionally, Manon was exhausted. Her body, of course, was largely unaffected by her gymnastic endeavors the night prior as a result of the magic in the suit. She found, however, that keeping up appearances and watching her every word very carefully to avoid any and all suspicion from her classmates was more weight than she was used to carrying on a daily basis.
“What’s for dinner tonight, then, Manon?” Remy elbowed Manon in the ribs to pull her from the mental fog she appeared to be lost in. The spunky brunette jolted and shook out her jumbled thoughts before turning to her best friend who was watching her pack up her things with a quirked eyebrow.
“Tonight’s menu features a Taleggio, Ham, and Cornichon baked croissant with a summer berry tossed salad accompaniment,” Manon declared in a fake fancy accent, putting on airs about her culinary creation-to-be. A strange, high-pitched, muffled whining noise was suddenly heard from the back corner of the room, and Manon turned to see Chris gripping something in the pocket of his black hoodie with all his might before he loudly coughed.
“What are you looking at, Chamack?” he bit, though the tips of his ears were tinging red with clear embarrassment. Manon rolled her eyes and turned back to her conversation without acknowledging the obnoxious boy.
“Chris, would you mind hanging back after class for a minute?” M. Agreste called out to him.
“Again?” Chris groaned. Manon couldn’t help herself, and she twisted around to stick her tongue out at him, hopeful that maybe their teacher had caught wind of his actions that day.
“God, my stomach is yowling. That’s either going to be really gross, or it’ll star in my hungry daydreams for weeks to come…” Remy grabbed the attention of his experimental chef bff again as he rubbed his stomach performatively.
“Who says you get any?” Manon scoffed, acting offended. Elise laughed her bright, sunshiney laugh as she hung off her boyfriend beside Manon.
“Your mom is lucky that she gets to try it! It’s definitely gonna be better than those bacon onion tempura lollipop abominations you brought for lunch yesterday.”
“When she bit into it, it brought a tear to my eye,” observed Remy. He dramatically brushed a finger across his bottom eyelid as if he were crying right then.
“Sometimes they’re hits, sometimes they’re misses! You still gotta take the shot,” Manon winked. All laughed as they slid their respective backpacks onto their shoulders and made to leave the room.
“Have a good evening, M. Agreste!” Manon called as they exited. Their spirited homeroom teacher looked up from his computer to smile warmly and wave to the trio.
“Goodnight, guys! Good luck on problem #6,” M. Agreste flashed a devilish grin at them, and Remy groaned in response. “Ready, Chris?”
The bully nodded reluctantly and headed for the front of the room as the teacher stood to close the door. Manon was silently disappointed that she didn’t get to hear the beginning of her rival being chewed out by an authority figure. She decided to try to watch his behavior tomorrow to see if he’d really given it to him.
The group of friends chatted casually on the stroll towards home, as they did every day after school. They all lived within the same neighborhood, so they were able to walk together most of the way before diverting onto their respective streets. Manon expounded on her recent trip to the produce market across town in search of the perfect, crisp cornichons she needed for her sandwiches. Elise updated the gang on her latest modern dance routine that she was cooking up for competition, flip-flopping on which moves were too complex for her to pull off in a fast-paced sequence like that. Remy filled them in on how his twin pet frogs were currently in a fight, refusing to occupy the same half of their tank at the same time. Manon suggested couples counseling.
“They’re not a couple, they’re brothers!” Remy shouted, his voice reverberating off the tall buildings surrounding the group of friends.
“That doesn’t always stop a relationship in the animal kingdom….” observed Elise.
“You are not allowed near Erlân and Ramón ever again.”
“Aw, come on! They love me!”
“Nuh uh. You’re a bad influence with those utterly impure frog thoughts you just aired.”
Manon rolled her eyes at her lovestruck besties as they bickered good-naturedly beside her. She loved them so, but thinking of that fact reminded her that, since last night, she was keeping a very large secret from them. Guilt quickly soured her mood.
“H-have a good night, guys. I’ll let you know how the croissants turn out! Maybe there will be enough leftovers for me to bring them for lunch tomorrow.” Manon tried to keep her voice even and cheerful as she turned rapidly down her street, breaking off from the group to hide her conflicted face.
“Oh, uh, bye, Manon!” Elise called at her rapidly retreating pal with a confused wave. She shrugged to Remy, and they continued walking and discussing frog technicalities.
“Are you feeling okay, Manon?” Tikki poked her little bulbous head out of Manon’s backpack to speak into her charge’s ear. A look of concern was plastered on her adorable face.
“Huh?” Manon startled, almost forgetting she had Tikki in there. “Sorry, Tikki. I just don’t like lying to people. It makes me feel… dirty.” The girl frowned.
“I’m sorry to hear that you’re upset, Manon. It’s a tough job to be a superhero, and it’s a lot of responsibility to have foisted on you all in an instant. However, Ladybug chose you because she knew that you could overcome the obstacles and thrive.” The kwami patted Manon’s shoulder with her tiny paw.
“That’s right! Ladybug chose me.” Manon looked confused, struck by the thought. “How does she assume these things about me? Do I know Ladybug?”
Tikki shook her head dismissively, “I am not allowed to speak the name of my previous owners to those who don’t already know it. It’s a magical spell placed on the Miraculous to protect secret identities if a kwami is captured, so don’t even ask,” she chuckled. “And anyway, I think maybe you should just get inside and look in your physics book.”
“I promise I’ll get the homework done, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Manon replied, twisting her head to look at the little bug creature over her shoulder with a curious quirked brow. “Science is usually my worst subject, but M. Agreste is a good teacher.”
Tikki shrugged and nodded. As they came upon Manon’s building, the girl keyed her code into the pad next to the front door and took the elevator to her floor. Once inside her apartment, she flopped her bag down on the couch and set about getting her dinner ingredients out of the fridge.
Tikki watched her new Chosen as she worked, a look of determination and excitement on the teen’s face like a great artist struck with inspiration. Manon turned the TV on for background noise, pulled out a cutting board, and began slicing up deli meat, cheese, and tiny pickles while the oven preheated. The brunette danced gracefully about the kitchen, pulling armfuls of sauces and liquids from the refrigerator, several spice jars from a tall cabinet, bowls from the dishwasher. Tikki caught the sparkle in Manon’s eye as she made various concoctions from citrus juices, vinegars, creams, seasonings, and oils in little bowls.
Twenty minutes later, the sandwiches were in the oven, roasting the croissants to a golden brown while the cheese melted. Manon wiped sweat from her thick brows and took down her hair from the ponytail she had tied it back into, shaking it out to her shoulder blades with a sigh.
“Phew. I hope this one works!”
“You look so alive while cooking! Is this a hobby of yours?” Tikki questioned, hovering over to the tired girl.
“Yeah!” Manon perked up instantly at the mention of her special interest. “I’ve been cooking things by myself since I was little, because my mom was always gone at night working. Over the years, I think my tastes have strayed from the norm, though…” she trailed off with a light giggle, reminiscing about the strange dishes she had come up with just in the last month.
“I think you have great taste,” Tikki beamed, “and I can’t wait to try a tiny bite of that sandwich when it’s done.” The hungry kwami rubbed her hands together and licked her lips, looking at the oven.
Manon laughed and felt herself relax slightly. She had really come to love cooking. Someday, she thought maybe she could open a restaurant, or maybe a bistro, to showcase her unique recipes. That is, if enough people actually liked them. She made a mental note to pinch off a tidbit of her sandwich to slip to Tikki during dinner later without her mother noticing.
Right on cue, Manon heard her mother’s key unlock the apartment door as the oven timer was about to ring out. Quickly telling Tikki to hide, Manon slipped on an oven mitt and pulled the tray out of the hot oven just as Nadja entered.
“Hey, Mom!” greeted Manon.
“Hi, Sweetie. How was school?” The pixie-haired talk show host replied to her daughter.
“Ah, nothing to write home about.” Manon shrugged, deciding not to vent about Chris and his goons today. She wanted to keep her spirits up to enjoy dinner.
“No new drama with that boy today?” Nadja asked anyway, like she had read Manon’s mind and decided to pry.
“Ahhh,” chuckled the girl, “He gave some trouble to Odette, the girl who got akumatized last night? She’s in my class.” With her face turned away from her mother, Manon frowned briefly as she glossed over the detail that she had been targeted by them as well, and may have even made herself an enemy of the group with just a few sentences.
“That’s a shame. I hope she didn’t let him get in her head. He seems too stupid for her to trouble herself with.” Nadja shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. She had heard plenty of earfuls about Chris Lahiffe and his jerky jock pals over the years, ramping up now that he and her daughter were in high school. Nadja had even had some talks with various teachers and Principal Mendeliev regarding the rambunctious behavior, but the problems always returned in time.
“Exactly, Mama. Plus, M. Agreste held him after school when we were leaving. Here’s hoping he got expelled!” Manon’s optimism was a bit misplaced in vengeance, but Nadja decided to let the girl have her fantasy. “And he seemed kinda jealous when he heard me talking about these sandwiches,” Manon grinned with pride as she plated the croissants and poured homemade dressing on the salad she had crafted. Nadja lit up, hunger in her eyes.
“You’re too good to me, Manon.”
. . . . . . . . . . . .
The croissants were a success in Manon’s book. She may sometimes find out that not every idea was as delicious in execution as it sounded in her head, but lately she had been right more often than wrong. Even Tikki agreed, having eagerly gobbled up the bite Manon offered to her when Nadja’s back was turned during dinner.
After the dishes were cleared, Manon packed the remaining few croissants into a container and slid it into her lunch bag for the next day. It was time to start her homework, she realized with a groan. The teen slung her backpack over her shoulder and marched into her bedroom to begin.
Flicking on the light, Manon was greeted with the comfy, familiar sight of her room. Three of the walls were an ashen grey color, accented by the fourth wall which was almost neon teal. Leaning against the accent wall was her dresser, tall and white with several keepsakes and curios on top such as Ladybug merchandise and little Japanese keychains made to look like miniature foods. A bookshelf stood proudly next to her queen-size bed, full of fiction novels about girls who go on adventures and participation trophies from various sports Manon had played as a child, but never exactly excelled at.
Her desk was triangular in shape, placed in the corner with a large, plush rolling chair at it. The great window beside it gave her a view of the streets below and the buildings surrounding, as the apartment was on the 7th floor. Manon placed herself elegantly in the chair as she tossed her bookbag onto the ground beside her before slumping and groaning at the idea of homework once more. She flicked on her lamp, which was clipped to the bookshelf between the desk and her bed in order to provide light to both.
As Manon flipped open the heavy textbook to read her first homework question, a yellow piece of paper stuck to the page caught her eye. Lifting it to catch the light, Manon read the mysterious note curiously. It seemed to be an address, though Manon didn’t recognize it, and a time, 8 p.m. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the initials in the bottom right corner:
“-L.B.”
Her eyes snapped to the clock on her bookshelf instantly. 7:36, it read. Manon’s golden eyes blew wide as she glanced rapidly between the note and the clock, urging her brain to form thoughts. Once she managed to push through her shock, she flipped open her personal laptop on the desk and speedily hopped on a navigation website. The walk time to the address was almost half an hour.
Manon stood before she even finished thinking, twisting her long hair into a braid lightning fast, two strands of cowlicked hair hanging loosely over her forehead as they always did when her hair was pulled back. The frantic girl grabbed her backpack and tore through the apartment to the front door.
“Are you going out, Manon?” Nadja turned around from where she sat on the couch to look at her fleeing daughter.
“Oh! Mom! Ah, yeah! Remy is having…” her mind blanked briefly, “relationship issues? With his frogs! Not Elise. We’re gonna help him! But I gotta go right now so bye!” Manon blew a kiss to her confused mother as she tugged on a light jacket to face the brisk evening ahead, and then she was gone.
Tikki floated along behind Manon down the hallway of the large building as the girl decided the stairs would be faster than the elevator. The kwami looked sheepish.
“Oh, right. I did tell you to check your physics book, didn’t I? Sorry, I got a little distracted by the food.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/3
Fandom: The Good Place (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Tahani Al-Jamil/Eleanor Shellstrop
Characters: Tahani Al-Jamil, Eleanor Shellstrop, Chidi Anagonye, Janet (The Good Place), Michael (The Good Place), Jianyu Li | Jason Mendoza, John Wheaton, OFC
Additional Tags: past Chidi/Eleanor, post-S3, Existentialism, The Medium Place
Summary:
There was a moment -- brief shining, wide-eyed, etc. -- where everything seemed like it might work out, they would return fairness to the points system and earn themselves spots in the Good Place and good would triumph over evil.
That moment was right when they finished their fake Good Place in the Medium Place.
