colorful kisses
s4!Mike Wheeler x Harrington!reader
Word Count: 0.7k
Summary: A very pink, very sparkly afternoon at Starcourt Mall turns into a ridiculously soft, kiss-filled evening in Mike Wheeler’s basement. Mike is bored, you’re thriving, and makeup is taken very seriously. Nothing explodes, Vecna is nowhere to be found, and Mike Wheeler is down astronomically bad.
Warnings: excessive lip gloss energy, innocent kisses (many, many of them), mall-induced whining, Mike Wheeler being painfully in love, reader is a Harrington (Steve raised her wrong, respectfully)
Starcourt Mall still feels like the most magical place on Earth to you.
The lights are way too bright, music is blasting from some store nearby, and the air smells like cheap perfume mixed with popcorn and sugar. You walk happily through the crowd, swinging a small pink shopping bag in one hand… and holding Mike Wheeler’s hand with the other.
Mike, meanwhile, looks like he’s being personally victimized by capitalism.
“How many more stores are left?” he complains for the fourth time in less than ten minutes, dragging his feet dramatically. “I swear we’ve already been here.”
“Michael,” you say in a sing-song voice, turning to stand right in front of him. “We’re literally just getting started.”
His shoulders slump like he’s lost a war.
“We’ve been here for hours…”
“Only because you’re being dramatic,” you reply sweetly, flashing him that smile — the one with the big lashes Steve always says are “straight-up dangerous.”
Your brother taught you a lot of things growing up.
One of them: when you smile like that, no one ever tells you no.
Mike swallows.
“So… what store is this now?” he asks carefully.
“Makeup,” you answer, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Mike drops his head back.
“I knew something bad was gonna happen today.”
You laugh, gently tugging his hand to pull him inside with you. The place is a pink paradise — lipsticks, glosses, eyeshadows, tiny bottles, mirrors everywhere.
Your eyes light up instantly.
“Look at that color,” you say, pointing at a lipstick. “It’s like… cherry, but flirtier.”
Mike nods, absolutely lost.
“Yeah. Totally. For sure.”
You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He’s bored. Whiny. So incredibly dramatic.
That’s when an idea hits you.
You step closer, lowering your voice like you’re about to share a top-secret secret.
“Hey, Mickey…”
“Yeah?”
“If you behave,” you say, tilting your head just a little, “I’ll let you help me test everything later.”
He frowns.
“Test…?”
“My makeup,” you clarify with a smile. “I promise it’ll be fun.”
Mike turns red all the way to the tips of his ears.
“O-okay,” he says quickly — even though he has absolutely no idea what you mean.
A few hours later, you’re sitting in the Wheeler basement.
It’s cozy, messy, and smells like home. Mike is leaning back on the couch, and you’re sitting right on his lap like it’s the most normal thing ever. Your legs rest on either side of him, and Mike is so stiff he looks afraid to breathe wrong.
“Are you comfy?” you ask, shifting just a tiny bit.
“Y-yeah,” he answers, voice slightly higher than usual. “Very comfy.”
In front of you sits a small mountain of lipsticks, glosses, and balms you bought. You look at them proudly.
“Okay,” you say. “We begin.”
Mike’s eyes go wide.
“Begin what?”
You grab the first lipstick, twisting it open slowly.
“The tests,” you say, like it should’ve been obvious. “You promised to behave.”
Before he can respond, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his cheek.
You leave behind a pink mark that smells sweet.
Mike completely blanks.
“Oh.”
“That one’s strawberry,” you explain. “Do you like it?”
He nods way too fast.
“Y-yeah. I like it. A lot.”
You grab another.
This time, the kiss lands closer to the corner of his lips. The color is deeper, the scent stronger.
“Dark cherry,” you say. “This one’s bold.”
Mike has no idea where to put his hands anymore. He keeps them stiff at his sides, like touching you might be illegal.
“E-everything looks good on you,” he murmurs.
You keep going. One. Then another.
Small kisses, soft kisses, kisses that leave different colors all over his skin. Vanilla. Peach. Mint. Each one smells different, each one makes Mike melt a little more.
“You smell like… a rainbow,” he says dumbly, half smiling.
You giggle.
“Is that good?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Really good.”
You rest your forehead against his for a moment, admiring your work. Mike’s face is covered in colorful kisses, and he’s smiling so hard it almost hurts to look at.
“You’re an excellent test subject,” you announce proudly.
Mike looks at you like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
“I’ll do this whenever you want.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
You snuggle a little closer, completely content, not noticing how utterly gone he is — not noticing how Mike stays perfectly still, breathing slowly, just trying to process how much he likes you.
For you, it was just a fun afternoon.
For Mike Wheeler, it was the best day of his life.