fandom: stranger things
characters: mike x eleven
summary: years after mike wheeler and jane "eleven" hopper's friendship takes a turn for the worse, the two reunite at hawkins high senior prom.
author's note: tw for underage drinking. this is loosely based on a plot developed my myself and the infinitely lovely and forever talented harveen. she's been such a great mike to my el and i love her x200 for inspiring me to write this lil piece. also i'm posting without much proofreading because i can't stand rereading my work, ever. enjoy! xx
"do it you fucker" – harveen when i told her i had to write this damn fic
Mike is not sure why he agreed to attend his senior prom.
Yes, he managed to score a date (the cute junior transfer from Indianapolis actually liked awkwardly tall audiovisual nerds) and yes, Karen Wheeler would have thrown a certified fit if she wasn't able to photograph her only son before the night began, so those two reasons sort of sold Mike on purchasing his ticket. Plus, The Party always agreed to either a) boycott the prom by hosting an at-home, infinitely dorky Anti-Hawkins-Prom-Slash-Dungeons-and-Dragons Party, or b) go as a group; if one member of the party was in attendance, they'd all find a way to go, and considering Lucas and Max were attached at the hip, there was no way the other four gentlemen could back out.
So it seemed Mike's mind was made up for him, before he considered the obnoxious photo ops to which his mother would subject him, or that Sloane Sullivan had agreed to accompanying him, despite having known him for a mere nine weeks (they got along decently well in advanced calculus; she laughed at his lame math puns and that alone was grounds for a solid acquaintanceship). His friends give him shit when he strolls into the unrecognizable gymnasium at Hawkins High School; Student Council truly outdid themselves, Mike decides, as he observes the decorations, dance floor, and dinner tables.
He strolls in, arm in arm with his date, when he spots her. It's not the sort of sighting that would stop him dead in his tracks; it's not as though Eleven pushed through the doors of the gym in a uncharacteristically feminine dress waiting for Mike's attention. She's out in the middle of the floor, dancing to an upbeat pop song with whom Mike can only assume is her date, some random popular follower named James that probably paid Eleven to be his date so that he could freak out his overbearing, overprotective mother. At least that's the story Mike constructs in his head as he walks across the floor, pretending not to notice her.
It's been a long five years. Jane and Mike had gone from best to estranged friends; at some point, Jane decided the rebellious companionship of Kali Prasad and Axel Whatever-His-Last-Name-Is superseded that of The Party; she traded in game boards for her softball bat and the signature number 11 that read across her back as she sped around home plate, game after game after game. Even when Eleven and Mike encountered each other around the high school hallways, they didn't interact much. He might offer her an awkward smile once in a while if he's feeling particularly vulnerable but otherwise, they go without acknowledging the other's presence.
Their moratorium briefly ended, though, when Eleven was desperate to pass chemistry (she was the only senior girl in the class) and resorted to the intellect and guidance of her former friend. He was just nice enough to say yes, and to meet her every Thursday during the fall season when Eleven wasn't required to attend her regular practices. It didn't take long for the two to digress from balancing chemical equations to recalling the summer nights and sleepovers they spent with The Party; the nights in which manhunt was deemed the game of choice by all members except Will (he was never a real fan of the dark). There was also the spoiled memories of Mike's familial life that shadowed the recollection of their younger days. Days that were spent playing on the Hawkins Elementary jungle gym, followed by nights in which Mike phoned the chief's house ("can I talk to Jane, please?") so he could tell her what toxic exchanged occurred between Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler that evening. Mike would eventually confess everything to El, desperately calling her one night in the midst of their tutorial sessions so that he could drop the ultimate bomb – Ted Wheeler finally left, and he wasn't coming back.
Despite the rekindling of their former friendship there was still an obvious distance between them; they didn't recognize each other in the hallway, they spent time in secret at the Hawkins Library (or drunkenly wandering Maple Street, as Mike swiped Ted's prized bottle of Johnnie Walker after he left, not caring whether he'd return for it). And despite everything, every unanswered question, every moment left lingering without closure, Mike found himself attached to her. He was, after all, his best friend and first crush, although Mike would likely never admit the latter.
The cloud of nostalgia dissipates when Dustin brings Mike back to reality. "Can you believe the look Stacy is giving me right now? She so wants me to ask her to dance."
"Good luck," Mike snarks, offering his friend a bit of a smile, fairly confident Dustin's request would be denied. Then again, it had been four years since middle school, and if Sloane's taste in men was any indication of that of the popular clique, Stacy would be all over Dustin.
The music begins to slow to something generic and unrecognizable; something mellow with a synth beat that was probably on the top of the charts, but Mike doesn't know it; he doesn't really follow popular music the way most kids do. He doesn't realize Sloane is about to ask him to dance before Mike turns to The Party, "excuse me," he says politely, nervously making his way to the middle of the dance floor.
"Can I cut in?" Mike asks, directing the question in James's direction, but Eleven is clearly more affected by it. Her cheeks nearly match the shade of her red heels, and Mike notices it, wondering if his own expression mirrors the color. James mumbles something Mike can't quite make out, but the other boy saunters away, allowing Mike to make his move. Eleven whispers his name without realizing and Mike pretends not to notice. It's jarring how seamlessly her hands seem to fall over his shoulders, how his hands naturally find her waist and they just know how to dance despite not having any prior experience whatsoever. It's not as hard as it looks, not really, Mike decides; maintaining composure proves to be much more challenging a feat.
"Hi," he greets her, rather foolishly, "Hi," she mimics him a bit, her smile authentic. Mike missed that smile. He's not sure how to lead the conversation next. I missed you this year, El, and I'm going to miss you next year when I go to college. Truth be told, I'm probably going to miss you for the rest of my life.
There really isn't much they can say, not in the middle of the dance floor. Maybe if they get another moment alone, maybe on the off-chance El fails chemistry again and needs a tutor for summer school. They don't exchange much more, and Mike can't decide if he wants it that way. The song is sweet and short and at its close they drop their hands at their sides, his grasp lingering on her's for probably a moment too long, but he can't help himself. "I just wanted to say you look beautiful tonight."
The blush doesn't recede from her features as she murmurs a soft "thank you," watching Mike turn to leave, making his way back to the spot against the wall in which The Party was situated. Mike can already hear the questions and demands from the rest of them: you asked Eleven Hopper to dance!? Are you drunk? And Mike's prepared to jokingly respond, yes, and hope the questions cease because he doesn't really feel like explaining his actions to anyone.
He just wanted one dance with his best friend.
feedback appreciated; thank you for taking the time to read this xx