Hello, all.
Yes there was a username change. No, it doesn't matter what it was before. I just decided that since I only write Mileven/Stranger Things, I wanted a username that reflected that. But it's still me.
This will be at least three chapters long and should be done by Christmas. I won't make any promises however, since I'm not sure how busy I'll be. But I have a good headstart on the next chapters so I'm choosing to be optimistic. Clearly this was inspired by Santa Tell Me by Ariana Grande which is such a bop that I decided writing an angsty El at Christmas. I hope you like it and it puts you in the Christmas spirit!
This story is for Kayla, the only person in the whole entire world who might just love Mileven more than I do. Happy birthday, you beautiful human, I'm glad to call you friend and I hope you get another year of love and Mileven!
The bar was decorated beautifully for being so small. Tiny trees covered with tinsel and ornaments sat at either end of the counter, multicolored lights strung around the entire interior, baubles and ornaments hanging from the ceiling and off of chairs and shelves. Crystal snowflakes were hung too, reflecting the lights like mini disco balls, each table topped with a reindeer or a candy cane or a snowman.
There was no denying it—It was Christmastime.
Eleven winced as she walked in, trying to pretend like she didn't hear the dubstep version of "Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer" or see the crowd of extremely drunk people dressed in ugly sweaters attempting to dance to it. She made a beeline for the bar, spotting an empty tinsel-wrapped stool and quickly placing herself on it.
The place was stupidly busy considering it was December twenty-fourth. Christmas Eve. Sure, Chicago was always bustling but surely there were better things to do than sit in some bar on Christmas Eve sipping boozy eggnog and cider? Dancing to DMX's Christmas album with strangers? Wearing Santa hats and antlers?
And yet she found herself sitting on a tinsel-covered stool, crossing her legs beneath her red, crushed-velvet slip dress and setting her sequin clutch on the counter so she could grab her debit card and ID out of it. Despite being twenty-fucking-six, she still had the height and facial features of a twelve year-old and was always carded. The bartender was down at the other end almost out of sight and she bit her lip, sitting back and tapping the plastic cards against the counter, bored or annoyed or sad—who knew? She sure didn't know.
And she didn't want to think about it. That's why she was here.
The bartender was making his way down the bar, close enough for her lean around the other patrons to try and get his attention, her cards prominently displayed. He was handing a drink to someone and she could only see his profile, a prominent nose and strong jawline, the carved cheekbone accented by the dim lighting. Right then he turned, their eyes catching, and she felt herself gasp.
He was ridiculously attractive, plush red lips and dark eyes, defined brows and milky, pale skin, smattered with soft freckles that looked perfectly kissable. Eleven swallowed heavily as he made his way down to her, his dark hair bobbing as he ran a hand through it, pushing it out of his face, a shiver running down her body.
She felt frozen, unable to do anything but stare as the handsome man smiled warmly at her, setting an elbow on the bar. He leaned forward, opening his mouth and—
A man wearing reindeer antlers and a light up sweater pushed up right next to her, almost shoving her off of her stool. She yelped and managed to cling to the sticky countertop, her debit card flying out of her hands and hitting the bartender right in the chest before falling to the floor.
"Yeah, I need two more—" Reindeer man started to say.
The bartender frowned and shook his head, "No, man, you get to wait like everyone else."
"But—"
"And you're lucky I don't have you thrown out for damn near assaulting this woman who's been patiently waiting," he continued, looking pissed, not taking it. "I get you want a drink and think you're special, but you don't get to fucking smack into people. Get out of here."
Reindeer man looked like he was going to argue but then took a deep breath and stalked away from the bar, muttering something under his breath. Eleven gaped for a second, trying to process the drama she'd been rather abruptly dragged into. The bartender ducked down and then reappeared, holding her card, looking down at it for a second and then back at her.
"Jane, huh? You okay?" He offered a sympathetic smile that had her blushing.
"Um, yeah, I'm fine—" She paused, trying to shake off the shock of almost wiping out but unable to rid herself of nerves. "Thanks. And I go by Eleven, um, if you don't mind. It's a nickname."
"Sounds like the kind of nickname with a story…" he baited, eyebrows raised.
Eleven hesitated, unsure if that was something she wanted to share, and then glanced down the bar, noticing how many other people were waiting for drinks. His eyes followed her gaze and he nodded.
"Okay, how about I get you whatever you want on the house since you just survived being assaulted, and when Annie gets here to help me with this crazy rush, you tell me your interesting story?" He played with her card in his hands, looking fascinated but clearly not wanting to make her uncomfortable. "And I'm saying, top shelf. Whatever you want."
She bit her lip again, considering her options.
There was no doubt she wanted to keep up a conversation with the devastatingly handsome man in front of her, but it was Christmas and he was a bartender and there was no point. Nothing good could come out of it. If the past had taught her anything, it was that falling for guys and Christmas could only end in pain.
But fuck he was hot.
"Mmm," she said thoughtfully, resting her chin in her palm, eyes sparkling. "You have anything special you can make? Surprise me."
He grinned widely, pleased, and nodded thoughtfully. "Any limitations?"
"No bourbon. Or licorice flavored things…" she said slowly, "oh, and nothing Christmassy, please."
At that his eyebrow raised, but he said nothing, spinning on his heel and reaching for a mug and some bottles of liquor. She watched, fascinated, as he buzzed around, grabbing a bag of marshmallows and getting hot water from the coffee maker. At one point a blowtorch appeared and she couldn't help but frown, slightly concerned. After about five minutes he walked back over to her, setting his spectacular creation down.
The mug was oversized and full of hot chocolate, she assumed, the entire top was covered in marshmallows. Tiny teddy grahams were situated in the mountain of 'mallow, hot tubbing in a booze-filled concoction that was toasted to perfection.
It was adorable and looked actually tasty and she couldn't help but grin up at him, grateful he hadn't given her some sexual drink or been weird and gross. He wasn't just a pretty face, he seemed to be charming instead and she laughed as he theatrically stuck a straw into the drink and pushed towards her, his smile at her apparent amusement somewhere between relieved and happy.
"Worthy of a story?"
"Mmm, I don't know, it's kind of Christmassy…" she pretended to look uninterested but when his face fell she quickly shook her head, laughing. "No, no, I'm kidding. I love hot chocolate. It's perfect. You can have the story once your rush is done. It'll take me awhile to finish this anyways."
He perked back up immediately. "Oh sweet. Cool. Awesome."
"Yes, to all of those," she smiled back.
For a moment they just stared at each other and then someone further down the bar cleared their throat pointedly and both snapped out of it. He held his hand out.
"I'm Mike, by the way—" Another person cleared their throat impatiently and he took a step away, saluting her. "I'll be back later for you, El."
She blinked at the unexpected—nickname? But it was kind of cute. Her mom used to call her Ellie sometimes. A strange flush filled her cheeks and she smiled down at her drink, quickly taking a sip and marveling at how smooth it was. Chocolatey and sweet but definitely boozy, tequila she was pretty sure. She hadn't been expecting a hot drink, but after the first sip she realized she'd been chilly, letting the alcohol and heat seep into her chest and then the rest of her body, muscles relaxing.
It was just what she'd needed, the drink and the friendliness. She'd come to try and forget the past, to not think about Christmas—which was impossible, she knew, but it had been worth a try. Chicago was home, sure, but it had been feeling more and more lonely the past few years. Turning twenty-six had been rough, sitting in her kitchen with a cupcake her boss had sent her, a single candle stuck into it.
The only thing that kept her going was her job as a child therapist. Helping kids in the foster system work through their problems, seeing them grow and get better, it filled her heart. She'd suffered her own losses as a child and being able to help children the way she'd needed to be helped back then… it kept her alive.
But it seemed like the losses could only keep rolling in. And she wasn't sure how much more she could take.
It didn't help that she was terrible at making friends. And worst at keeping them. As much as she liked people, they just didn't seem to like her. Since she mostly worked with children, work friends were distant, and talking to strangers held little appeal. Usually.
Her eyes drifted down to Mike, who was chatting easily as he mixed up a drink for a pretty blonde in an icy-blue dress. Eleven narrowed her eyes, unable to help but a feel a sting of hurt. Did he chat and talk to every pretty girl at his bar?
Of course he does, she whispered to herself, that's his whole job.
The realization that he wasn't actually interested so much as trying to make a good tip hit her and she couldn't help but frown, slurping at her hot chocolate which was already halfway gone. Of course he flirted and smiled at everyone. That's what being a bartender was. You listened to your patrons and told them what they wanted to hear. And she'd needed someone to show interest so he had.
"Hey, you still doing okay?"
She looked up and Mike was there, a slight crease between his brows the only thing that indicated he was worried. Somehow she managed a smile, taking another sip of her drink. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"You sure?" He licked his lips. "Annie should be here any minute—" Just then a brunette wearing a Santa hat came around the corner and he relaxed a bit. "Awesome, she's here. Give me five more minutes and I'll be back for my prize!" He shot a grin over his shoulder at her as he walked over to Annie and the two had a quick conversation before diving back into the fray.
Eleven watched as they mixed up drinks, handing them to waiting customers and taking cards, a well-oiled machine. It was satisfying to watch and she tried to relax. Maybe he really was interested… or maybe it was too good to be true. A hot guy interested on her? On Christmas Eve of all days? There couldn't be more warning bells going off.
But, god, it's not like she had anything better to do than let a cute bartender know about her dumb nickname. And he made good drinks. And it was better than sitting in her empty apartment on Christmas Eve all alone, thinking about her mom and dad or her last four failed relationships and just how unlovable she was.
No, this was definitely better.
The rush died down and she was the only sitting at the bar, the occasional person walking up but the crowd dispersed. It was getting later and the dance floor was full as the tables emptied. They were reaching the "everybody's drunk" stage and Eleven realized she was feeling pretty tipsy too, the hot chocolate stronger than she'd expected. It was delightful, feeling so calm, and she decided that she could wait to talk to Mike.
Mike was nice. And hot as fuck.
As much as she didn't want to admit to being drunk and horny, she was enough of an adult to acknowledge that the cute bartender, with his black vest and dark eyes, made her want to lose her panties. Which was also not a wise thought, but she'd reached a point where she no longer cared what was wise and what wasn't.
She wanted to talk to him some more and signaled him over, pushing her empty mug forward as he walked over. He smiled and she felt herself get wet. Jesus.
"You want another?"
"No… maybe something else?" She felt comfortably tipsy and wanted to keep it going so she didn't chicken out talking to him. "Did I read somewhere you had mulled wine?"
"Ooh, yeah but… isn't that kind of Christmassy?" he teased.
"Customer is always right! Don't make me forget to tip you," she shot back, head tilted cockily, red lips smirking.
"Alright alright, one mulled wine." He overdramatically pulled out a wine glass and proceeded to fill it full of the red liquid, staggering back over to her. "But not Christmas mulled wine. Just regular mulled wine."
He set it in front of her with a flourish and she smothered a laugh at his antics.
"Now," he said, leaning cozily against the counter across from her, relaxing now that the bar wasn't bustling and his coworker was there. "Is the mysterious woman in red who hates Christmas going to tell me my story or do I have to bribe her with another free drink?"
"You don't seem big on Christmas either," she protested, gesturing to his plain black vest over an open-collared plainer white shirt. "I mean, you're dressed more Han Solo than Kris Kringle! No tinsel or anything."
He lit up, clearly pleased despite her intended jab. "Ah, god bless you," he beamed. "Han Solo, wow, what a compliment. Does that means you're Star Wars savvy?"
"Who isn't? It's like one of the greatest stories of all time," she waved her hand dismissively. "But even Annie over there has a santa hat, so why aren't you so jolly?"
"I'll tell you if you tell me your story," he offered before grinning again, reaching up to smooth his hair. "You really think I look like Han Solo?"
She snorted into her wine. "Yeah, but like a hot Han Solo."
Mike froze, hand still in his hair, eyes widening and Eleven felt her face heat up. She set down her glass, knowing there was no good way to recover from her blunder. Yeah, it was the truth, he was way hotter to her than the traditional, classic Han Solo, even though he was considerably slimmer and paler. But she didn't need to say that out loud. Now he probably thought she was some horny weirdo who just wanted to get laid. Which wasn't totally wrong but it's not like she screwed random guys for fun… he was just exceptionally pretty and the thought of him gasping as she ground herself against him was ridiculously appealing.
Quit it, she snapped at herself.
Shame baked her face and she stared down at the counter. God she couldn't even keep her dirty thoughts away for five minutes. Maybe she should finish her wine and leave. Leave the poor man alone.
"So…" Mike sounded thoughtful but she couldn't make herself meet his gaze. "You're telling me you don't think Harrison Ford is hot? Because that's actually crazy. I mean, I prefer women, but I won't stand here and say that Harrison Ford isn't hot. He's like… a total babe."
Eleven couldn't help it. She burst out laughing, a full on pig-snort-laugh leaving her drunken mouth, and she had to set her wine glass back down to keep from spilling. Mike reacted to her laughter with his own, immediately easing the mood back into the flirty comfort it had been before. It took her a few moments to calm down, covering her mouth with her hand to try and smother the last of her laughter.
"You're making me think I should start doing stand up comedy," he beamed.
"Please do, I'll be there every night."
She grinned at him and he grinned back and they were two grinning idiots but somehow it felt right. He was the one who broke the moment, glancing down at their hands, resting against the glimmering countertop, scattered with red and green confetti.
"So… do I get the story of your name?"
"Oh, right," she blinked, coming out of her daze. Setting her wine down, she let her mind wander to the memory, the one that held the secret to her name. "It's kind of dumb but…" She took a deep breath, smiling softly as the memories flooded in. "When I was like four, my parents took me to the zoo. I loved animals, I had stuffed lions and bears and turtles… my own personal zoo piled on my bed. So I was so excited. But I was kind of behind on speech and when we got there I could only kind of say what they were. And there were elephants, my dad put me up on his shoulders so I could see them…"
Her heart ached, remembering that golden day.
"And I couldn't say 'elephant', it came out as 'eleven' and my dad thought it was the cutest thing so he started calling me Eleven and my mom did too but it was kind of our special thing… he died five year laters. From lung cancer." She felt her throat close up a bit, the pain still so vivid, pausing to close her eyes and take a deep breath, steadying herself. "After that I didn't want to be called Jane. So I've been Eleven and it just feels right… like maybe a little piece of him is still here."
Mike sucked in a breath, face puckered, like he could feel her pain. "I'm so sorry, El."
"El?" She couldn't help but notice that he'd called her that again.
His face flushed that lovely red and he ducked his head. "Sorry, I have this weird habit of giving people nicknames." He frowned at himself. "Even if they already have nicknames. I'll try and stick to Eleven, sorry."
"No, I don't mind," she assured him. "Mama used to call me Ellie sometimes. She thought Eleven was kind of a weird thing to be called."
"Used to…?"
"After my dad died… my mom struggled to keep a job that could support us. She ended up marrying this total piece of shit," she huffed, then , "but he paid the bills and didn't ask for too much. At least, not from me. But Mama… she suffered. It was a lot of psychological abuse that I didn't even know was happening and when I was fifteen, she—she tried to kill herself."
"Oh shit," Mike breathed.
"It didn't work, but she was—was strung up long enough that her brain was without oxygen for too long and now…" Eleven flicked a piece of confetti, feeling her chest tighten like it always did at the thought of Mama, sitting in her chair, staring listlessly at the TV, day after day. "She's basically a vegetable. I still visit her but she doesn't know I'm there. She doesn't know anything anymore."
"El, fuck, I—" Both of his hands found hers, warm and gentle, squeezing in comfort. His dark eyes were full sadness, as if his heart was breaking for her. "I'm so fucking sorry. That's so much to lose."
Everything felt far away, the tunnel of grief and pain a black hole that sucked her in. It had been so many years, so much sorrow for so long, so much crying… she had no tears left to cry. Part of her knew neither of her parents would want her to spend so much time crying over them, she could almost hear her dad's gruff voice telling her to stop being stupid and to cheer up. She took a deep, shuddering breath, letting the sting of grief fade, the warmth from Mike's hands helping to ground her. Slowly her senses came back to her, first her hands, then her elbows pressed against the chilly countertop. The smell of sweaty patrons and her wine in her glass filled her nose, the beat of a remixed "Let It Snow" thumping up her stool, Frank Sinatra's voice singing merrily.
And the sight of Mike's dark eyes, staring into hers, brow pinched in worry as he squeezed her hands again. His handsome face was mere inches away, his breath warm on her cheek, and it took all her self-control to keep from pushing herself the rest of the way across the counter and kissing him.
Maybe it was weird to want makeout with a hot guy immediately after thinking about your dead parents, but he was so kind and thoughtful, somehow knowing exactly what to do to make her feel better.
And, fuck, his lips looked so red and delicious and perfect. She wondered what it would be like to sink her teeth into them, to hear him groan and moan her name against her mouth. Her legs tensed, pressing her thighs together, and she took a deep breath, eyes fixated on his lips.
"Mike!"
El jumped back and Mike seemed just as startled, letting go of her hands and leaning away. It was Annie, the other bartender, her eyebrow raised in amusement as she looked at the pair. "It's like, twelve thirty, your shift is over." Her eyes focused on El, glancing at the wine glass. "You're not hitting on some poor drunk girl, are you?"
Mike took a whole step back, holding his hands up in surrender. "No, of course not! We're just talking…" He crossed his arms, looking offended. "When have I ever hit on a drunk woman? While I was clocked in and not drunk myself," he quickly added.
Annie crossed her arms but nodded. "Fair point. But you should still get out of here. If bossman comes by and thinks you're slacking…"
"Okay, you're right. Thanks for the head's up, Annie."
The santa hat wearing bartender waggled up her eyebrows but turned back to the bar as someone came up. El sort of forgot what they had been talking about, her heart sinking as she realized he was done with his shift and would probably head home. She'd really been enjoying talking to him—and staring at his pretty face. Her disappointment must have been written across her face because Mike took one look at her and then glanced behind her.
"Hey, so, I hope I'm not being too forward or anything, but there's an empty table over there…" He pointed and she looked over her shoulder, spotting the booth tucked in the corner, covered in empty glasses but otherwise abandoned. "If I go clock out, is there any chance I could meet you there in like five minutes? I… I've really enjoyed talking to you."
He swallowed, hands fidgety, clearly nervous.
"Yeah," she breathed, nodding. "I'd like that."
That ridiculous grin lit up his face and he nodded, almost bashful, looking pleased. "Alright, cool, I'll go clock out…" He glanced behind him at the bar and then back at her. "Did you need anything else before I'm done?"
"Nah—" Her empty stomach growled and she grimaced. "I know you don't have any food but I'm good on drinks."
For a second he stared at her, looking thoughtful and then grinned again, much more conspiratorially. "You know, I might just be able to make that happen. Meet you in five."
With that he disappeared into the dark end of the counter that hid a doorway for the staff. It was smart, not having a gap in the counter itself, so patrons couldn't drunkenly stumble behind it and grab battles of liquor. El stared after him for a second before finishing her glass of wine and leaving it sitting there, making sure her clutch was in her hand before walking over to claim the empty table. She felt comfortably woozy, more fluidlike, not stumbling or anything, but relaxed. It was the feeling she'd wanted, when she'd decided she was going to get drunk that night and not think about Christmas and all the pain that came with it. Her fridge had been lacking in alcohol, however, and she'd had no choice but to seek out the nearest open source. And it had happened to be here.
Maybe paying twelve dollars for an overpriced cocktail at a crowded bar didn't really make sense, but it wasn't like she didn't have enough money in her bank account. Her job paid almost too well, for being single at least. But having money had never really been something that she'd let get to her head. It was just a thing—a thing she'd been used for before.
With a sigh she set her clutch onto the table, scooting into the small booth and pushing the few sticky glasses to the side. It had been busy enough that none of the waitresses had made it over yet and El did her best to stack the cups together so it would be easier to take them away.
She glanced back at the bar, where Mike had disappeared, shivering at the thought of his kind eyes. Their conversation came back, her sluggish mind suddenly shocked sober as she remembered spilling the sob story of her childhood. God, she'd told him about Mama. She hadn't told anyone about Mama since college. Usually that horrifying part of her past scared any and all potential friends away. She was so fucking damaged, even if it wasn't her fault.
But for some reason he'd just… made her feel better instead of more sad. She wasn't sure if she was just attracted him to him because she was sad and lonely or if there was actually something there.
"Ugh, no," she moaned to herself, eyes falling onto the little Santa figurine that was sitting in front of her on the table. "This can't happen, right?" She was past believing any sort of god was up there listening, and drunk and emotional enough to converse with a plastic St. Nicholas. "Santa, tell me, am I just drunk and horny? Is that all this is? A cute guy to scratch this goddamn itch?"
The plasticine face didn't change it's jolly grin and El sighed.
"Look, buddy, if you're real, let me having something good for Christmas just once, okay? No more guys who aren't there next year? Deal?"
Santa stayed silent and she realized how stupid she must look, quickly looking away from the figurine and back over at the bar. Her eye caught movement from the corner and she turned to see Mike weaving his way through the tables and people towards, face eager, holding a plate of something she couldn't quite see and a glass of water.
God, how was he still interested after all she'd said?
She let her gaze wander up and down his tall frame, biting her lip. His chest was nicely broad, evening him out so he wasn't totally skinny, but nicely lanky, tapering down to narrow hips. A belt held up his black pants and she couldn't help but wonder what he would look like without them… standing over her… pushing her down onto her bed… crawling over her and pinning her down, chests brushing, hips pressing—
"You okay?"
His voice was low, only making her shiver again, but she came back from her fantasy, staring up at him, teeth still buried in her bottom lip. Their eyes met and his widened, red lips gaping open just slightly as he read the emotion that was evident on her face. After a moment he swallowed thickly, pupils flaring, and El finally dragged her eyes away, hiding a smirk at his reaction. It was obvious. She'd seen her lust mirrored in those dark, gleaming depths.
And she was too fucking drunk to be embarrassed.
"Yeah, I'm okay," she nodded, looking back up at him. "Are you?"
"Y-Yeah," he stammered, still captivated by her.
"Did you still want hang out? Or did you need to go…?"
"No! I-I mean—" He shook his head almost frantically and quickly sat down across from her. He set down the plate he'd been holding and then the water glass, scooting them both towards her side of the table. "Here, um, I managed to find some Eggos in the break room. You said you were hungry?"
There was a small stack of yellow, homestyle toaster waffles on the paper plate. Mike looked almost sheepish.
"I know they're not as good plain but the fridge was just cleaned out and whoever did it threw out my maple syrup…"
"You have a break room?" She reached, tentatively taking one of the waffles and sniffing it.
"Oh, yeah, this place actually used to be a strip club before Mr. Hammond bought. There wasn't much use for the old dressing room so he turned it into a break room. Which is handy if you have like, an eight hour shift."
She paused, the Eggo halfway to her mouth, eyebrows raised. "You've worked for eight hours straight? Here?"
"Yeah, seven PM to three AM on Friday nights." He shrugged like it was no big deal, eyes lingering on the waffle in her hands. "It pays the bills which is what's important. Are you even going to eat that?"
El looked down that unassuming breakfast food. "Yeah… I just haven't had one before, so quit rushing me, okay?"
"You've never had an Eggo?"
The condescension in his voice made her roll her eyes and she quickly took a huge bite. It was chewy, a little doughy, somewhere between sweet and cakey. Her eyes widened in surprise. It was good.
She took another bite, barely chewing the first, and then proceeded to wolf the entire thing down in mere seconds. Reaching for a second one, she scrunched her face up in bliss. It was probably because she was drunk and hungry, but suddenly the waffles were the best things she'd ever tasted in her damn life. Within another few minutes the plate was empty as she devoured the small pile, drinking the water to help get the slightly dry breakfast food down. Her stomach felt better, and she sighed happily as she finished every last crumb.
There was a soft snort of laughter and she remembered she wasn't alone.
"Jesus, you didn't even give them a chance," Mike snickered.
"I was hungry!" she protested, feeling herself flush. The liquid courage in her stomach was being sopped up by the Eggos and the lovely wooziness was starting to leave her sober. Sober enough to remember she was being rude. "Um, did you want any? I know it's too late but…"
"Nah, I ate a few hours ago. And clearly you needed them more than I did—"
"What does that mean?"
"Well, you were hungry for one thing," he replied casually. "But also you're drunk and I would definitely feel bad if you were only being nice and talking to me because you're drunk and your judgement is impaired."
There was a glimmer of insecurity in his eyes and she realized he really was worried that he was annoying her. As if she wasn't the drunk idiot who had distracted him from his job and begged him for food.
"Trust me," she said deliberately, "if I didn't want to talk to you, I would have left the second you offered me a free drink." She set her chin in her palm, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "I want to be here, right now, talking to you. Drunk or not."
"O-Oh. Okay."
It was quiet and El looked down at the water glass he had set in front of her, reaching for it and sliding it closer. Her fingers traced shapes in the condensation and then she took a long drink, washing down the taste of the Eggos. She really did wish she had some more… they had been oddly delicious. Apparently she would have to make a trip to the nearest mini-mart as soon as she made it home.
She glanced at Mike who was just watching her. When they made eye contact he looked away, sucking in his cheeks, leg bouncing up and down beneath the table. It was like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.
"So you already guessed that I hate Christmas. And you're right," she cajoled, raising her eyebrows. "But why do you hate Christmas?"
"You didn't actually tell me why you hate it… but I guess it's my turn to get personal, right?"
"Sounds about fair," she replied with a smirk.
He sat back a bit in the booth, getting comfortable, brow creased in thought. "Well, I don't really hate Christmas, so much as just this Christmas. It's the first one in my entire life that I haven't been able to be with… well, anyone I actually care about. My best friends are all busy and my family is a mess and even if I really wanted to go somewhere I can't because I lost my job four months ago."
El frowned, confused. "But you work here?"
"This was a part time job. I used to work full time at an IT firm, I have a degree in computer science…" He sighed. "It was a pretty great job. Full benefits and health insurance and paid vacation… but they ended up closing the business because the owner wanted to retire. It was just time, nothing personal. I was lucky enough that my boss here took me on full time… but I'm getting paid half of what I was before. So any plans I had to travel to see my best friends for Thanksgiving got fucked and…"
"And your plans for Christmas got fucked too," she mumbled, feeling sympathetic.
"If I hadn't lost my job I was going to fly to New York and spend it with my sisters but—" He paused. It was obvious. He was broke, working in bar to keep from missing his rent. "And since Holly isn't at home anymore—that's my little sister," he clarified quickly, "there isn't any point in going there."
She couldn't help but ask. If her parents were still around, she'd do anything to make it home but… "You're not close with your parents?"
"More like they're not close to us. Any of us. My parents haven't been happy for a really long time," he started, hands fidgeting with one of the napkins, tearing it into shreds. "And it's not like we didn't figure it out when we heard them fighting or when they refused to talk to each other at dinner. We were kids but we weren't stupid."
He let out a frustrated sigh before continuing.
"Nancy left first—and not just because she grew up and went to college. She always came back for Christmas and breaks… but when they found out she had two boyfriends they lost their shit. Like she had committed some crime by falling in love. So she stopped coming back." He shrugged. "It's not like Holly and I could really blame her… she even paid for plane tickets so we could go to New York and visit. Nancy didn't stop trying, but she didn't want to come back if she couldn't bring who she loved."
"She sounds kind of awesome," El offered, hoping she wasn't interrupting.
"She is." He smiled, then dimmed. "I didn't stop trying either. I couldn't leave Holly alone with—with them. So I stayed and went to school in Indy instead, drove home every weekend. Got my bachelor's in computer science. I stayed and worked for the big name internet company in town, setting up routers and stuff, until two years ago when she turned eighteen and went to college. And then… I moved here because there was a job. And I haven't really gone back since."
It was quiet as the truth of his splintered home sunk in. El couldn't help but feel her heart ache for him. She'd lost her parents, sure, but at least she still had good memories. They had loved her and she would always have that.
Mike only had his siblings, scattered across the country.
"Didn't you mention… you had friends?" She spoke up. "None of them wanted to drop in for Christmas?"
"Well… Lucas just got married. He's spending Christmas with his wife's family in California because apparently they're crazy and won't let her go visit his family. Dustin lives in Japan and, I mean, have you ever priced tickets to Japan? I can't even afford to fly to NY." The napkin he'd been shredding was in pieces and he moved on to another one. "And Will… he actually invited me home with him last year, in Hawkins. And I went and his mom and brother are so kind and nice. I've known them literally forever but—" He grimaced. "It just felt like I was intruding on something. They're so close and they tried to include me but… it didn't feel right."
"So you don't actually hate Christmas…" she tried to summarize. "You just don't have anyone to celebrate it with?"
"I guess," he shrugged.
"See, if you just avoid celebrating it all, then you don't have to feel bad about not having anyone."
"Sounds like something someone lonely would say." He frowned, maybe more at himself than her but she couldn't tell. "Is that why you don't celebrate it? So you don't have to think about being lonely?"
His words stabbed into her, the tender flesh she'd exposed to him taking a direct hit. Something in her broke open and she tried to play it off, not wanting to sit there in the jingle bell-filled bar and cry. Instead she just shrugged, trying to make her face into a mask of casual indifference.
"I'm done trying to make people want me in there life. It doesn't work… I'm just supposed to be solitary, I guess. It's not a big deal."
"So you hate Christmas… because it reminds you you're lonely too?" Mike tried to pinpoint, brow furrowed.
"No, I hate it because every damn time I've bothered to love someone, it ends right at Christmas. I've been with four guys, and sometimes it was just a month and other times it was over a year and every fucking time it ends… it's fucking Christmas," she spat before taking a deep breath to calm down. "And I don't know, I haven't really liked it since before my dad died. After my mom married Brenner, Christmas was always weird… I would get all this expensive shit but now that I know what Mama went through for me to have it… I would give it all back just for her to be okay."
Her hands curled into fists, nails biting into her palms, the fiery anger and hatred for the evil man who had all but killed her mother blazing up again. At that time she'd just accepted the new laptop and the Tiffany necklaces and had assumed they were pretty things to take up her time. But they'd cost her mother her sanity and now she felt dirty for even touching the fancy presents, drenched in her mother's blood.
"Well, uh, as far as Christmas goes, you definitely are allowed to hate it. No judgement here," he said, clearly trying to help her find a way back from the pain. "Like I just have a mild aversion… you've got a case to have Christmas cancelled. Yeah, fuck Christmas!"
El busted out laughing, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. He grinned, clearly happy with her reaction, and she felt her heart crack open, the hardened steel breaking apart. Somehow he just understood, how to make her feel better, what she needed him to do make her feel human again. It was stupid, but she could feel herself falling for him.
She wanted him so bad it wasn't funny.
"Mike?"
"Yeah?"
She bit her lip, pausing, trying to think. "Um, do you live close by?"
He blinked but nodded. "Yeah, just a few blocks away. Why?"
"Well…" she sighed dramatically. "I really really want some more Eggos and I guess I was wondering—"
"I know for a fact I have three boxes in my freezer right now," he interrupted, eyes bright with interest. "Homestyle and whole wheat. Y'know, just in case I'm feeling healthy."
El felt herself smiling and she quickly glanced around the bar, at the dance floor full of writhing people, at the bar still staggered with patrons. Strangers, happy to lose themselves to the idea of Christmas, blissfully ignorant to the suffering of the world.
"Can we… get away from here? And get Eggos?" One of her hands moved across the table, sliding into his large palm, the warmth of his hand comforting.
He looked down, at their entwined fingers, squeezing her hand softly in his. When he looked back up at her, he nodded. "Let's go."
They both crawled from the booth, sharing a secret smile, and El grabbed her clutch before they made their way to the front so she could grab her coat. It was cold outside, a chilly tendril of frosty air curling up around her legs, the heat coming from between them as she followed Mike absolutely unbearable. There was no doubt in her mind that she wanted him, and while she truly did want Eggos… she wanted something else too.
So far he'd managed to silence every single one of her doubts, the ones that told her it was bad idea, that getting close to him would only end in pain. That starting something on Christmas was stupid. That he was interested enough in her to even want to get close to her too. Whoever this guy was, he was making her feel all kinds of crazy—but she didn't even mind. She wanted to kiss him and touch him and feel him all over her.
That could happen for at least one night, right?
Her hand reached out for his, like she had at the bar, seeking his warmth and the strange comfort that she found in him. He took her hand, pulling her closer as he realized she was cold, smiling down at her as they scurried down the sidewalk. It wasn't too far, and before she knew it he was leading her into an apartment building that wasn't exactly nice but seemed clean and well kept despite the dinged up walls and occasional broken light.
"It's on the fourth floor and the elevator is out…" He sounded sheepish. "You think you can make the climb?"
El nodded, following him to the stairwell. "I work out so I should be fine… but if not you can always carry me."
"I'm pretty sure between the two of us, you'll be able to carry me. I'm not exactly athletic."
At that she laughed, skipping over to the stairs and bounding up them, her dress swishing around her legs. When she looked down at him, over her shoulder, she noticed him staring, his eyes on the few inches of exposed between her boots and the hem of her skirt. He looked up, turning red as he realized he'd been caught, but she smirked at him, beckoning, beguiling, and then started to run up the stairs faster, laughing.
He took the challenge, racing up after her, footsteps pounding behind her as he took the stairs, grinning. El giggled, glancing over her shoulder as he started to close in. She was faster, but he had longer legs that took him farther and she had to speed up as he swiped at her, barely catching the back of her coat. An excited squeal left her and she realized they'd made it to the fourth floor.
Without missing a beat, she hastily pushed through the door and into the hallway, running down the carpeted hall, Mike hot on her heels. The even ground gave him the advantage and he caught up to her in a second, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and picking her up, spinning her. She squealed again, laughing, feeling his strong arms, the firmness of his chest against her back, his breath hot on her neck.
When he set her down she turned to face him, staying close, looking up at him with large eyes, feeling so damn needy and ready to touch him. He didn't move away either, instead gravitating closer and closer and—
The door behind them suddenly opened and an unamused older woman stuck her head out, glaring.
"Don't you two know it's late? And Christmas Eve?"
"S-Sorry, Mrs. Gillespie," Mike stuttered. "We're heading to my place now. Um, Merry Christmas!"
The woman rolled her eyes but closed her door without another word. Mike looked sheepish, rubbing at the back of his neck and taking a step back from her. It took all of El's willpower not to grab him and throw him against the wall and kiss him, but she realized maybe starting something in the hallway wasn't a good idea. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that she wanted him…
And it seemed like he wanted her too.
"Here, further down… that's where I live," he stated, tilting his head inquisitively. "You okay?"
She didn't hesitate, almost purring as she smiled up at him.
"Let's go."
Not sure when the next update will be but a nice review always helps motivate me. You already know what's coming next. It's partially written but a little love wouldn't hurt.
Merry Christmas
~SP