Steve yawned into his fist as he drove down the road, practically salivating at the thought of his bed. He'd spent the morning working a shift at the video store, before helping Dustin lug radio parts up and down ridiculously steep hills all afternoon. He had no other obligations for the rest of the day and even though there were still a couple of hours of daylight, all he wanted to do was crash and spend the next twelve hours with the sandman.

Just as he was turning onto the street that would take him to his neighborhood, Steve spotted a familiar form walking along the side of the road ahead of him. That lanky build and floppy hair could only mean one person. Steve had the urge to just honk and drive by, but he knew he would never give in to it. The kids were rarely alone these days, so when they were, little bits of worry immediately niggled in his mind. Resigning himself to the fact that his sleep would have to wait, Steve slowed down his car and pulled up alongside the notoriously moody teen.

"Wheeler, what the hell are you doing out here?" Steve called out, ducking to look out his passenger side window. Mike jumped a little in surprise, then rolled his eyes when he realized who was talking to him.

"I'm walking. What's it look like?" Mike huffed, continuing on his path.

"Okay. Where to? And where's your entourage?"

"Why does it matter?" Mike shot back. Steve was tempted to leave. It was no secret that he and Mike weren't the best of friends, which was fine. Steve would still save the little jerk's life if it came down to it, but it wasn't like they would ever be the ones to choose to hang out with each other on purpose. And it didn't seem like Mike was hurt, so he could keep going without feeling guilt. But then again, Mike did seem to have his shoulders a little more tense than usual. And he was holding what looked like a sweater in his arms. Something was up.

"What've you got there?" Steve asked, reaching over to point at whatever Mike was holding.

"None of your business!" Mike snapped. So, that was confirmation something was wrong. Steve hated being responsible, but there was no fighting his instincts anymore. He accelerated ahead a little, then pulled off to the side of the road, blocking where Mike was going. Steve climbed out of the car and walked to stand in front of Mike, before he could escape.

"Are you hiding a gaping stomach wound that no one knows about?" Steve demanded, looking for any signs of blood.

"No!"

"Then are you hiding some sort of creature from another dimension? I would hope that we all learned a lesson after what happened with Dart."

"No."

"Then what is it? You know I'm not going to let you leave until I get to the bottom of whatever's going on with you, so you might as well spill." Steve put his hands on his hips to show Mike that he was serious. The kids knew this stance. They regularly made fun of it. But it was powerful.

"Fine!" Mike shouted, holding up what he'd been cradling in his arms. It was a sweater, which felt a bit anticlimactic. It was kind of small and a bit more feminine than something he'd expect Mike to own, but Steve didn't judge. He was an open minded guy. But there had to be more to this.

"And?" Steve asked.

"It's El's."

"Okay." Steve still had no idea what was going on. "Aren't you going in the opposite direction of her place?"

"I can't give it back to her."

"Why not?"

"Because of this!" Mike shouted, holding up one of the sleeves and exposing a pretty big hole. Steve wanted to strangle Mike, then hug him in relief at the fact that this was such a stupid problem. As long as someone wasn't dead or dying, he could deal with nonsense.

"How did it happen?"

"El was over at my house and we were hanging out. We got into an argument and she stormed out, but she forgot her sweater. I grabbed it, but I didn't realize it was caught on something under my bed and it ripped," Mike explained, pulling one of the loose strings. Steve was about to tell him to stop before he made the hole worse, but his overprotective side came out first.

"How did El's sweater end up under your bed?" Steve asked, narrowing his eyes at the boy. How old were they all again? Had they already had "the talk" with someone? Was Steve going to have to as well?

"We were just hanging out!" Mike exclaimed, glaring at Steve. He'd put that topic on the back-burner for now.

"Okay, so why can't you just give it back to her?"

"Because she's already mad at me, since the argument was kind of my fault and this will just make things worse!"

"Then what was the plan? Taking it into the woods and burying it like a dead body?"

"I was going to go to all the clothing stores around here to see if I could find the same sweater and replace it," Mike sighed. Steve had to admit that the idea was kind of sweet. Dumb and probably unrealistic, but sweet. He doubted that Mike would be able to find an exact match and even if he did, new clothes felt a lot different that worn clothes and El would probably figure it out. Steve could let him go and wish him well, but maybe there was a better way.

"Let me see it."

"What?"

"The sweater. Let me see it," Steve repeated, holding out his hand. Mike eyed him suspiciously, then handed it over. Steve inspected the hole, turning the sweater inside out to get a better view of the damage. "You're in luck."

"What? How?" Mike asked in confusion.

"It tore along the seam. See?" Steve turned the sweater so Mike could get a better look. "Easy fix."

"What?"

"Come with me," Steve chuckled, walking over to the trunk of his car. He heard Mike follow as he started rummaging through the stuff, grabbing the first aid kit from the corner. Steve popped open the top, pulling out the needle and thread he had stashed inside.

"Why do you have those?" Mike asked, frowning down at the supplies in Steve's hand.

"It's just a precaution. In case we duck instead of dodge," Steve smirked, mimicking something slashing at them. He hoped their encounters with monsters were behind them, but he could never be sure. It was better to be prepared.

"But what am I supposed to do with it? I don't know how to sew."

"I'm gonna show you how," Steve declared, ushering Mike to climb into the passenger's side of the car. The boy begrudgingly got in, as if he was doing Steve a favor, instead of the other way around. That was fine. Steve could be the mature one. He went back to the driver's seat, then turned on the radio, figuring it would help things feel less awkward.

"Now what?"

"Now we get the needle ready," Steve replied, handing everything over to Mike. He pointed out the hole and explained how to get the thread through, then how to tie off the end. Steve was surprised by how easily Mike followed his instructions, without argument. Maybe this would end up being a bonding experience. "Look at the hole again. See how it tore along a place there was already stitching?"

"Yeah."

"That's your guide. You just follow along that and the two sides will come back together," Steve directed, taking everything back from Mike. "I'll do the first couple, then you do the rest. Watch close."

"Where did you learn to do this? You don't really seem like the sewing type," Mike mumbled, watching Steve's hands. He chuckled as he got started.

"One year I didn't have a Halloween costume and I needed to have something so Ronnie Dalton didn't show me up. I tore up a bunch of old shirts and tried to attach the parts to another shirt, to look like a monster. It didn't work, since I had no idea what I was doing, so I ended up drawing a fake mustache on my face with a marker and winging it," Steve explained, turning the project back to Mike. He reluctantly took it, carefully repeating what Steve had done. "After that, I practiced putting all those shirts back together and by the end of the pile, I wasn't too bad at it. It helped a couple years later, when I had to make this tree costume for a stupid school play."

"Why didn't you just buy a costume? Or ask your mom for help?" Mike wondered, biting his lip as he slowly moved the needle through the fabric.

"My parents were out of town. And I hadn't really figured out the whole shopping thing at that point," Steve shrugged.

"How old were you?"

"Seven, I think? All the years sort of blend together." Mike paused what he was doing and looked up at him with a sad gleam to his eyes. That wasn't a look Mike usually gave him. When he was half dead after Billy's attack, Mike pretty much still only looked at him in annoyance. "What?"

"Your parents left you alone when you were that young?" Mike asked quietly. Steve smacked his forehead internally. He forgot that he couldn't say shit like that to people, since they wouldn't understand. Mike was used to always having his mom and lump of a dad around. Steve was lucky to see his parents for three days in a row.

"Wasn't a big deal. I got to stay up late, watch all the cartoons I wanted, and eat every snack in the house. It was awesome," Steve grinned, lying between his teeth. It was miserable and lonely, but he would never admit it to these kids. They'd seen enough ugly in the world to last them multiple lifetimes. Steve wasn't going to be another source of stress for them. He was there to help. "Keep going with that. You're doing a good job."

"Thanks," Mike sighed, putting in another stitch. He was almost done, which meant that Steve could let him go. But it felt like more than just the sleeve needed to be fixed.

"Want to tell me about the fight?"

"No."

"Okay," Steve replied, waiting him out. He could see the words bubbling up under the surface. Any second now.

"I'm an idiot!" There it was.

"Yeah. And?" Steve agreed. Mike rolled his eyes at him. "Go on."

"Eleven is always so open about things, you know? Like, she thinks it, so she says it. But I'm not like that," Mike explained, slumping his shoulders. "So when she thinks I'm hiding something from her, she gets upset."

"Are you hiding something from her?"

"No! Well, sort of. Not on purpose," Mike groaned. "There's just this pressure to say everything I'm feeling and I don't know how. So when I stay quiet, El thinks I don't feel the same as she does."

"And do you feel the same way she does?"

"I don't know. I think I do, but this is all so new to me."

"I get it. You guys are still kids. I'm an adult and I still screw things up."

"So what do I do?" Mike asked, looking to him for guidance. Steve was better at ruining relationships than he was at saving them, but maybe knowing how he'd messed up would help Mike.

"Do you want to be with her?"

"Of course!"

"Why?"

"Because I care about her. When I thought she was gone, it felt like a part of me was gone too. And now that she's back, I couldn't be happier. It's like every wish I had came true. I want to spend all my time with her. But that isn't enough."

"Why don't you just tell her that?"

"Because she doesn't want that. She wants to hear 'I love you!'" Mike exclaimed. Steve couldn't help but smile at that. He remembered being in love and all the emotions that came with it. He also remembered being too scared to open up about everything. It was easier to now, now that there were no stakes, but he wished he'd been braver when he had the chance. Things might've worked out better for him. But his failure could end up helping other people.

"Girls want to hear all of it. It's never better to say nothing. I can guarantee you that El is making up her own answers right now, since you didn't give her one," Steve pointed out. Mike let the sweater drop to his lap as he covered his face. "Don't be so hard on yourself. I didn't hear you say anything that made me think you aren't all in in your relationship. You're just a kid."

"But what do I say if I can't say those words?"

"Explain how you're feeling. Let yourself be vulnerable in front of her. I could tell you I love you right now and not have it mean anything, because it's just words. But actually digging down deep and being honest about your fears and how much you really do care about her means more. El will appreciate you putting yourself out there like that."

"You make it sound so easy," Mike grumbled.

"It's not! And it's much easier giving the advice than it is to actually use it. But isn't El worth the effort?"

"She's worth everything to me," Mike whispered.

"Jeez, you've got me swooning over here," Steve teased, easing another eye roll from the boy. "In all seriousness, if you talk to her like you just talked to me, I think things will work out. Sometimes you go into things and don't know what you're doing, but by the end, it all comes together. Kind of like that sleeve." Mike looked down in surprise, finding that his mending project was practically finished. Steve checked his work, showing Mike how to look for any errors before tying off the end of the thread.

"Thanks for this," Mike said quietly, folding the sweater carefully in his lap.

"No problem. Glad I could help," Steve replied, shifting so he was sitting properly in the driver's seat. "Want a ride?"

"Sure," Mike agreed, buckling up. Steve drove to the Byers' house in companionable silence, letting the radio do its job. It was only a few minutes before he was pulling up outside of the house where so many chaotic moments had happened. He wondered if they ever considered moving.

"Remember what I said. Honesty is the best policy," Steve said, looking at Mike pointedly.

"You sound like a lame after school special," Mike snorted.

"Hey, some of those were pretty smart!"

"Whatever," Mike huffed, climbing out of the car and gently slamming the door behind him. Steve watched as Mike walked up to the door, trying to stand as tall and confidently as he could. Who knew girl trouble would be scarier than monsters? Mike hesitated before he knocked on the door, glancing back at Steve in the car. He flashed the boy a thumbs up, encouraging him to keep going.

Mike took a deep breath and knocked, waiting for someone to answer. A few seconds later El opened the door. Steve couldn't hear what they were saying, but when El suddenly pulled Mike into a hug, he knew he could finally leave. They would figure out the rest. Steve turned his car around and resumed his drive home. He wasn't tired anymore.