#st3 fics

[argylemikewheeler]

could you write will and mike having an actual conversation about their argument because uuhhhh that did NOT get resolved at all

[I tried to imagine it as “in-character” to st3 as possible. so here we go with more boneheaded mike– but like, Make It Sweeter]

Will was scanning the storefronts for something with a heavy flat bottom with something to hold onto. They needed to flip that car, but a bunch of scrawny arms– plus Jonathan, Will thought begrudgingly– weren’t going to manage it any time soon. He hurried past the fountain to the GAP, nearly tripping over a sign. The sign rocked on its round, flat base–

“Hey, Will?” Mike was standing behind Will, and had been for God knew how long. He’d been skirting around with surprising silence that entire evening. He looked preoccupied, but in a different way than the rest of them.

“Yeah, Mike?”

“Can… Can I talk to you for a second?” Mike stepped up to him awkwardly, his arms swaying by his side as if trying to motion his words out.

“… Now?”

“Yes, now.”

“Uhh, not now, Mike. We’re trying to outrun a monster. Maybe tomorrow is better?“

“We could die.” Mike said shortly. “Now. Please.”

Will placed both hands on the top of the tall, weighted pole. He folded his hands stood with one leg popped out, waiting but allowing his anxious foot tapping to be seen. “What, Mike?”

“Please don’t be mad at me.” Mike sighed, rubbing his eyes and turning away only to come rocking back. He made a quiet nose of discomfort before sighing.

“To not be mad, you kind of need to apologize.” Will didn’t want to bring any personal drama into their current chaos, but Mike seemed determined– and Will wanted to make it worth their demise. “You really hurt my feelings, Mike.”

“I know. I know! I’m sorry.” Mike let his hands drop by his sides, swinging forward and back again. Almost touching Will. “I was just really mad at everything that was happening. I felt, super helpless about everything–”

“Do you think any of us feel in control right now?” Will said with a dry laugh.

“I’ve never had someone in my life before, Will.” Mike said, trying to wrangle him back to his point.

“You’ve always had me. You’ve always had me, Mike. And I thought I had you.” Will let his hands fall and grab the sign, hoisting it off the ground.

“Hey! D-Don’t do that!”

“Don’t do what?” Will dropped the sign again with a clang, the rest of the group turning to find the noise in the cavernous mall. “Don’t think we’re friends? That you are the best friend I’ve ever had in my whole life? Or don’t get upset that I’ve become second to your desire to stick your tongue in our friend’s mouth!”

Everyone was staring toward them, the urgency of the situation freezing in the coldness of Will’s words.

“You haven’t come second to El.” Mike said quietly, startled by the truth. “I feel differently about her than I do about you.”

“Well, I don’t! How you feel about El I feel… I don’t feel… Like that.” Will failed to be truthful. Even when death was storming toward them.

“What are you talking about?” Mike blinked, shaking his head. He reached and grabbed the sign, lifting it for Will. It was a strange olive branch, but Will let him try. “What… What do you mean?”

“It is my fault I don’t like girls, Mike. It is my. fault.” Will reached and grabbed a second sign, already trying to go back to the group. He wanted to return to normalcy– or the new normal of constantly fearing for their lives.

“I shouldn’t have said that!” Mike cried, trying to catch up. He was always terrible at running, his only saving grace were his long legs. “I shouldn’t have said it was your fault. I-It’s not. It’s not a bad thing, Will. Look, I-I’m sorry!”

“Why are you sorry? Because I’m mad?”

“Because I don’t care that you’re… I don’t care that you’re gay!” Mike could’ve just as easily swung the sign around and hit Will upside the head; it would have felt the same.

Will stopped and let the sign drop to the ground, staring at Mike. The monster could have come through the ceiling and Will still would have stood in the middle of the mall, heart exposed and bleeding. He was relieved to no longer have to say it himself, but still mortified.

“What.”

“I said… I said, I don’t care that you’re gay– you don’t like girls. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. A-And I shouldn’t have acted like it does– and that I should expect you to.” Mike sighed, his face falling. “I shouldn’t have put you second to my girlfriend. I l-love her and everything… but that doesn’t mean I can’t love my best friends too.”

Putting love beside best friend was more painful than Will expected. But really, what did he expect? Mike to suddenly come to his senses and realize that Will wasn’t just upset that he was the only gay person the five of them seemed to know, but that he was the only person that knew Mike better than anyone else in that slowly crumbling mall and loved every bit of him. No. Will couldn’t expect Mike to be so aware– his obliviousness was part of his charm.

Will swallowed the pain of knowing his own plans of subtlety had failed. “Why did you choose to tell me in a fight that you knew.”

“Well, I–”

“Why did you use it against me.”

The ground rumbled, somewhere in the distance, and Will was only half sure it was the Flayer gaining on them. The other half of Will was sure it was his own fear and frustration rattling his bones and the buildings foundations. Why did Will have to love all the parts of Mike that hurt him?

“Guys! Come on! We need to get the cable now!” Jonathan yelled across the mall. “Hurry!”

“Just a minute!” Mike screamed back, although Will was ready to try walking away again.

“No, Mike. Now!” Nancy screamed. “This isn’t up for–”

“ONE. MINUTE.” Mike held his finger up, thrusting it forward over Will’s head. “ONE.”

No one argued back. The timer started.

“I–I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I just– I was so frustrated with… with…”

“With me.”

“No! No. With how there’s nothing can do to help you–”

“I don’t need help. I need my best friends to stop trying to feel up one of my friends.”

“It’s not like that!”

“I may not like girls, but I’m not blind to how you look at them, Michael.”

“God! With the ‘Michael’ shit again. You sound like my mother!” Mike snapped back. When he was wrong, he got defensive and snarky. Yet another unfortunate piece of charm Will still loved. Will hoisted his sign and tried walking again. “W-Wait! Okay. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that either.”

“You’re zero for two, Mike. Maybe we should wait until after this over. You can collect your thoughts.” Will said, stepping back slowly.

“No! No no. I can’t. I can’t go one more second not being friends with you.” Mike pleaded, dragging his sign to keep even with Will. “Please, let me apologize… Again. Let me apologize again, without being an asshole.”

“Mike, it’s okay. We’re still friends. Always are.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t how friends treat each other– I shouldn’t treat my friend like this.” Mike’s sign clanked against each tile as he walked, chasing after Will. “I shouldn’t have said… any of the things I’ve said to you in the past like, three days. Having a girlfriend has made me into an idiot. And I’m sorry. I love you as you are, Will. How ever that is… Whenever you want to talk about it. I’m sorry. You’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose you. Especially not over a girl.”

Will took the opportunity to say it; an admission buried under misunderstanding.

“Love you too, Mike.”

Mike sighed with relief and started walking for far less urgency– funny enough– toward the car. Nancy looked annoyed but equally relieved as the boys passed the fountain. Jonathan waved them forward faster, arms extended for their signs.

“Can’t go back on our promise.” Mike said quietly just as they reached the group. No one acknowledged their break– Will’s ability to stop time.

“Wait. What promise?” Will asked. He let Jonathan take the piece from his hands, his fingers loosing grip as he looked at Mike; he was smiling.

Nancy started motioning for all of them to get back behind the car. Mike climbed up first, standing on the roof of the car. He placed his sign on the food counter first before turning back to Will. His eyes were crinkled and his lips were pressed into a familiar muted smile.

He extended a hand out to Will, ready to lift him.

“Crazy together, right?”

ao3

[argylemikewheeler]

I mean it's not even a prompt if you don't want it to be. But let's take that possibility/AU that Will could actually befriend Robin and realize some Stuff. And actually create some badass friendship just like Steve and Dustin did ;; I need some good friendship for my boy

Will found out during a slow day at Scoops Ahoy. Steve had to run an errand with Dustin and left Robin bored out of her mind in the shop, and it just happened to be Will that really wanted a vanilla sundae at one in the afternoon. He sat on the counter as she rearranged the ice cream tubs to her liking. They didn’t really have a whole lot in common– except that they were tired of all their friends dating.

Apparently, if Will was paying attention correctly, Sandra was dating Miranda’s ex boyfriend, who had apparently had a brother that was now dating Caroline but really wanted to be with Louise, Sandra’s cousin. It sounded super annoying when Will began to factor in high school dances and drama. He wanted to buy Robin ice cream– or at least new friends.

Robin expressed the same sentiment directly when Will talked about why he was at the mall alone. She even placed four dollars and nine cents in change on the table and began pointing at other people walking by. Not only did Will say he couldn’t just replace the Party, Robin was beginning to point at girls. Not that Will didn’t want to be friends with girls it was just, in that moment, Will needed the confidence he could still be friends with other boys. He wasn’t a plague.

“What’s wrong with her! She’s cute!” Robin said, nodding toward a redhead on the other side of the shop.

“She’s nineteen.” Will said, looking at her. “I’m fourteen, Robin.”

“Right. She’s still cute though, right?”

“I mean, I guess…” Will muttered.

“What do you mean you guess?” She laughed. She poked Will’s whipped cream and dabbed it on his nose. “She used to be the captain of the debate team at school– and she’s not a bitch!”

“She’s… pretty, I guess.” Will placed a heavy spoonful of fudge in his mouth, hoping he’d push off talking for a while.

“Why are you saying this like it’s a guess, Will. Don’t you have opinions on stuff? It’s okay to say a girl is cute, you know.”

“I know it’s okay to say a girl is cute! That’s kind of my problem.” Will grumbled, spitting a bit of fudge on his lip.

Robin handed him a napkin slowly, narrowing her eyes. Will tried not to bend under her stare, looking down at his ice cream. He began sweating, sure his hands were melting his sundae prematurely.

“I just don’t think girls are… cute.” Will muttered, slowly wiping his mouth.

Robin blinked at him, her lips lifting in a glowing smile. “Well I do.”

“Y-You do?”

“I really do.” She nodded, patting his leg. “Very cute.”

“Oh.”

Will finished his ice cream in silence, occasionally looking over at Robin. Will didn’t want to stare but he’d never met another gay person before– especially someone older, especially someone out. There was nothing different about her than when they met, but every moment, every simple movement was one Will was able to look at and know: that ice cream tub was moved by a gay person. Everything in that shop was being completed and kept running by a gay person. There was a wonderfully kind and intelligent gay woman in front of him, smiling and scooping ice cream and earning money and– for some reason– studying Russian. There were no caveats to her existence. She did everything without any obstacle, even if it was the simple things. Will had never seen it done.

Everything was the same, and that was so different than what Will thought being out would look like.

—

In the coming week, Will had the craving for ice cream a whole lot more. He’d pop by Scoops with his money gripped tightly in his hands, nervously asking for whatever flavor she thought he’d like.

“How am I supposed to know what you like, kid? Isn’t that your job?” She’d always say.

“I don’t know yet.” Will would answer, placing his change into the tip jar.

Will would sit in the back room, eating his single scoop slowly, trying to muster the courage to ask Robin questions– any question– to see what her life was like.

One day, while eating a scoop of butterscotch, Will caught her while she was washing her hands in the back.

“Hey, Robin?”

“Hey, kid. What’s up? Enjoying your flavor today?”

“Yeah. It’s alright.” Will shrugged.

“It’s our best seller. Lot of people like it.” She said, puling the other chair out. “But, I mean, if you hate it. Just say so.”

“I just don’t know.” Will sighed. “I’ve just… I don’t know. I’ve spent so much time eating vanilla ice cream– it was my first flavor– but I can’t tell if it’s my favorite because of… like, exposure or if I really like like it.”

“Okay. Well, what makes you say that?” Robin took her hat off and folded in between them. “Why can’t you like vanilla?”

“It’s not just only vanilla. It’s like, vanilla bean. That certain kind.” Will said, twirling his spoon. “But everyone says I should really try chocolate! But, I don’t want to! But how do I know if I never–”

“I’ve never liked vanilla.” Robin said swiftly, folding her hands on the table. “I’ve refused to try vanilla since I was nine years old.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But, for the longest time too, I thought I was allergic to chocolate.” she said.

“Then what’s left?” Will asked.

“Letting yourself starve.” She sighed and bit tapped her thumbs against the table top quietly. “I thought I would just watch everyone enjoy ice cream for the rest of their lives– vanilla, chocolate, peanut butter–”

“Peanut butter?” Will echoed, eyebrows furrowing.

“They’re out there. Just as cool as vanilla and chocolate. Probably hell of a lot cooler, actually.” Robin laughed. “But, I thought I’d watch all my friends, all my enemies, enjoy desserts while I’d be forced to watch. And starve. All because I refused to like vanilla.”

“You never felt like you had to?” Will asked, taking her hat to twist in his hands. “Not once?”

“Sure, I felt like I should’ve been seen with a cone of vanilla a few times when I was starting high school but–”

“No, I mean, have you ever felt like you had to at least try it before you said you hated it? I mean, how can I sit with all my friends eating chocolate and have vanilla– they’ll just say they’ve never seen me try it and–”

“Are you trying to make your friends happy, or yourself?” Robin asked, lifting her eyebrows. “Because it sounds like you just want to make sure you can sit at the little snack table with all your friends.”

“T-That’s not true.” Will found it hard to believe someone had figured him out that quickly. Then again, if anyone was going to be able to spot his uh, dessert preference, it’d probably be Robin. “I’m just, trying to make sure I’m not making a mistake.”

“Why would it be a mistake? You like vanilla, right? You’ve thought about it and you really like vanilla?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded slowly. It was the first affirmative opinion Will had ever given Robin, given anyone, about what he liked. Even if it was disguised in ice cream. “Vanilla bean is my favorite. I like it the most.”

“Who’s vanilla bean?” Robin quirked an eyebrow and started grinning. “You already have a scoop picked out! Why didn’t you lead with that? That’s exciting!”

“Hey! What are you two talking about in there?” Steve said, suddenly sliding the window back. “I mean, vanilla? Chocolate? It’s ice cream guys. What could you possibly be discussing?”

“Boys. What do you think, dingus?” She sighed, rolling her eyes. It was the truth, but Steve held his hands up in surrender, turning back toward the counter. “It’s just ice cream.”

“Alright, sorry I asked.” Steve muttered. “All your hours have gone to your head, Robin. I swear.”

Will waited until Steve was serving a new customer before he spoke again. Steve seemed to be too distracted and a bit too stupid to crack their code, but anything was possible. Will had accidentally found another gay person in Hawkins while just trying to avoid hanging out with Mike– not that he didn’t want to hang out with him, he had just had enough heartbreak for one day and wanted to maybe try smiling that afternoon.

“I’ve never felt like this… about any… uh, thing before and I’m afraid that I just really like vanilla bean but am, indifferent to vanilla.” Will said, rubbing the back of his neck. It was just nerves that time.

“Do you think that?” Robin reached over to grab Will’s other hand.

“Well, no, but I know someone’s going to say it and–”

“If you don’t think so, then no. You really do like vanilla, Will.” she squeezed his hand tightly. “Is that okay? If you really do like vanilla?”

Will took a deep breath and looked at the woman in front of him: timid but brave, concealed but forward, happy and gay. Will’s feelings weren’t just a fluke, a phase he could force himself to get over. All Will’s confusing and frustrating feelings were real– and he had someone who understood him. He wasn’t a plague and he wasn’t crazy. At least not alone.

He cracked a smile. “Hey, Robin.”

“Yeah, kid. What?” She seemed to already know, her smile curling her lips in.

“I’m gay.” Will said, laughing. “I really think I am.”

“Welcome aboard, sailor.” Robin cheered, patting his hand excitedly. “We’re so happy to have you. Really. It’s not an easy boat to get on at first, but it’s going to be so much easier for you. I promise, it’s gonna get so much better– a tiny bit worse when you hit like, seventeen maybe, but you won’t be alone. You’ll have us.”

“You mean… you and Steve?” Will said incredulously. “Steve?”

“He’s supportive.” Robin said, pushing her chair back. “We don’t have to tell him, but if you just need someone in your corner, Steve’s just about your biggest fan.”

“Oh. Good to know.”

It was comforting to know Will would always have a fall back in case someone– or everyone– decided to abandon him after he came out. Will didn’t know Robin’s story or the rest of her life, but even if she was all alone after her own familial betrayal, she was still able to smile and laugh and live– even if there was pain Will didn’t see. She was able to stay strong and offer help to others. She wasn’t defeated or bitter. She was hope.

“But, hey. Don’t sit around and sulk with me all day. Go have fun, kid, alright?” Robin grabbed both his hands and pulled him up from his chair. “Go catch a movie or something. Have a good, fun, youthful day and I’ll see you around, alright?”

“Thank you, Robin.” Will said earnestly. “Thanks.”

“Hey, it’s what friends are for, right?” She placed a hand on his back, guiding him to the exit, but Will took it as an involuntary invite. He hugged her quickly, squeezing her sides and grinning against her shoulder, before taking off.

Will Byers had a gay friend.

—

Will came back the following day, excited to come racing up to the Scoops counter. He was supposed to be meeting up with the Party, but in those few moments before, Will knew he wouldn’t be alone either. He had other friends.

“Hey Robin!” Will waved, once he was in earshot of the counter.

“Ahoy, sailor!” She jumped up and waved. As she landed, she began quickly scooping and getting Will’s ice cream.

Will weaved through the tables and chairs to arrive at the shop. He placed his money on the counter and tried to crane his neck to see what Robin was making him. She kept turning and blocking his view, laughing quietly to herself.

“What are you getting, Will?” Steve asked, stepping up behind the register. “What route did you take today on this… for the love of God… ocean of flavor today?”

“Uh, I don’t know.” Will said, pointing to Robin. “Ask her.”

She held up one finger and quickly reached under the counter for one last ingredient. Robin finally turned around and placed the long glass dish down on the counter, sliding it forward. She was proud and absolutely beaming.

“All aboard the USS Butterscotch,” she saluted. “made entire out of vanilla ice cream.”

“Isn’t the USS Butterscotch supposed to be made out of, uh, butterscotch.” Steve said, turning to Robin with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yeah, dingus. But Will likes vanilla. We’ve been over this. When you were eavesdropping.”

“Actually, Robin… I hate vanilla ice cream.” Will whispered, sliding the money to Steve. Steve looked between the two of them with furrowed eyebrows, muttering to himself.

“WHAT! But you said–”

“Oh sick sundae, Will!” Mike said loudly, walking up behind Will. Lucas and Dustin were still no where to be seen. “Wait, is that all vanilla? Oh, can I try some?” Mike looked at Robin as she handed him an extra spoon slowly. He mistook her hesitance for confusion rather than inquisitiveness. “I just really love vanilla.”

“Well well well.” She said, looking at Will with a smothered grin. Will tried to hide his blush with a faux itch on his cheek. “We’ve found our vanilla bean, Captain. Great flavor– seems like it’d be sour, but I guess it’s pretty sweet.”

“What are you two talking about?” Mike said, his mouth full of ice cream and waffle cone. Steve shrugged to Mike and handed Will his change.

“You.” Will said, tapping the side of the bowl. “W-White and freckled… Like you. Y-You look like your ice cream.”

“Heeey! I do!” Mike laughed, lifting the boat up and holding it by his face. “I never noticed.”

“I-I just did.” Will lied, biting the inside of his cheek. “Never noticed you– noticed that before… Do you want to split it with me. That’s too much ice cream for me.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I do!” Mike nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Vanilla and you? Probably the best combo.”

Mike was busy looking at his hands, licking the bit of whipped cream off his thumb, but Robin easily caught the change in Will’s expression. His mouth fell open slightly and his hands fumbled with the coins still trying to go into his pocket. Will was part of a combination. He was a desired add on rather than just something stuck on in a reluctant after-thought. He was something Mike loved just as much as vanilla ice cream. Will could one day be the vanilla ice cream.

It was a far-fetched dream, but there was at least one other person who would support it. Will never had to dream alone anymore. His fantasies didn’t have to be painful or lonely. They weren’t punishments. He could now sit with ice cream and a new friend a talk about boys– like a regular sleepover, except one half of the duo got paid minimum wage, while both got to be exactly who they were. No restrictions.

“Well, we’ve got a captain and a first mate!” Robin clapped her hands together with a grin. “You’re all ready to set sail, fellas. Enjoy! Welcome aboard, Mike.”

ao3

[argylemikewheeler]

I feel like Mike would have nightmares about flayed Billy because like aside from Jane he was probably the one most hurt by him so just after having one him biking over to the Byers house to talk and cuddle with Will about them (at least until they moved away...)

Mike jerks awake in bed, thinking he’s still been knocked out in the industrial alleys behind the mall. He slams his hands around to try and find something in his dark room– his mom needs to stop turning the light off when she checks on him before she turns in. Finally, he finds his lamp or his flashlight and proves he’s safe– safer than he thought. He’s not in the mall. He’s in his bed... but that’s not always better either.

His house is silent most of the time. Not just at night, when Mike needs the most sounds– quiet reminders of the familiar life around him– but when he’s struggling. And doing so visibly and loudly. His mother doesn’t even scold him when he snaps at Nancy or Holly at the dinner table. He is excused from most family events because he simply doesn’t have the energy to leave his room. There is no arguing anymore. It’s a resignation.

It makes it hard for Mike to believe he’s not actually dead in that mall.

But tonight, like all other nights, he’s alive. He pushes himself up in bed and heaves strong, uneven breaths. There’s no one shaking him awake, no one there to check up on him. He’s not even sure there’s anyone else awake– sure as hell always seemed like he was the only one.

Well, there was one, and would be one, person awake. At least until October when he moved away. But it was still only August. Mike had time. He still had Will.

Will would always answer after Mike’s first knock. He’d be standing on the Byers’ front step, panting from his bike ride and the nightmare he was afraid was chasing him; Will would never leave him out in the sticky evening heat.

Will steps back and waves Mike in, his eyes barely open. Mike hurries inside and closes the door behind him. No one else is awake. Just the two of them. They walk over to the couch, Will flopping down against the armrest. He holds his arm out for Mike, his fingers wiggling with silent invite. Mike lays down on the couch, head resting on Will’s lap.

Will doesn’t ask what’s wrong, he just waits. He’s silent in a different way than Mike’s house. He’s silent because he’s listening– and he’s patient. He pushes Mike’s hair back and hums in agreement to all of Mike’s half coherent, open-ended sentences.

If anyone understands Mike it’s definitely Will, but there is still a bit of disconnect; Will fears shadows and smoke, the chill of cold across his skin-- Mike’s fear has a face, a name, an address. It wasn’t just a feeling that haunted him, or a foggy autonomy. It was a crooked nose and a bloody face, a sudden blackout, a inability to believe he was ever that close to death.

Mike says this of course. He always shares. Will always listens. They assure the other that no, that mall fight wasn’t a dream-- but neither is this: them, together and alone.

They had lived, but they also have something to live for. Safety would always be a ten minute ride away. Well, until it wasn’t.

Neither are ready to confront the truth of their fading closeness and comforting intimacy. That’s just another monster they’d have to fight, and both are so tired.

They curl up on the couch and act like the summer is endless. Something has to be-- other than the nightmares.