Hi lovely readers! So, I haven't mentioned this before because it had no real bearing on the story and I just kind of forgot to mention it, but this takes place in 1993, which is the year that they would be 22-23ish in canon. And with that little detail, enjoy!

Time felt malleable. It stretched and pulled like taffy until El wasn't even sure if it was passing at all. And truly? She would have preferred it if it paused... for that would have allowed her to stay within the cradle of his arms without the unfortunate promise of an end.

It was a perfect suspended animation.

If she had allowed her thoughts to awaken, she would have marveled at the jaw dropping comfort that she felt lying in his embrace. She would have blushed at the stories now imprinted on her bruised lips, and at the memories of his hands… hungry and earnest… ranging over her entire body. She would have had to shake herself with a sober reminder that this was nothing more than a one night stand, halting herself from reading into it any further… despite how much she would have ached to do so.

But there were no deep thoughts for her here. Not in this hazy liminal space between sleep and awake. Instead, she just floated on the soft sensations of her body. His subtle musk drifted over her senses, beckoning her to stay relaxed upon his shoulder. His breath, slow and steady, rocked her like a light lapping wave.

She luxuriated in what it felt like to ghost her hand along the warm skin of his slim waist, his long torso an expansive canvas for her fingers to wander. Mike's breath stuttered at her touch, and with it she became ever so slightly aware. She pulled herself closer into him, her nose falling into the crook of his neck. Then, in a movement that felt so bizarrely natural, she dropped a featherlight kiss right above his collarbone. His chest rumbled with the softest most contented moan. A lazy smile appeared upon El's lips. She repeated the motion with more fervor.

Something within her was waking up in the very best way.

She -

BBBBRRRRRING!

El gasped. Mike's whole body flinched in her embrace.

The phone rang one, two, three times.

Mike lurched to the side and clumsily brought the phone to his ear. "Pronto..?" he gruffed, his voice thick with sleep. Then, he tensed like a taut wire, his breath catching in his throat. He stammered a few words of hurried Italian before he slammed the receiver down and darted up in the bed.

"We missed our flight," He choked.

"WHAT!?"

That was the moment that she jolted awake.

El shot up in bed. Breath falling short, her eyes fell upon the clock. 11:09 stared back at her in red digital numbers.

How… how did…

"Shit!"

The next five minutes were a whirlwind. Anxious adrenaline surged through her foggy brain as she flung herself out of bed and tugged on the first clothes that she could find. Yesterday's dress. Clunky hiking boots with mismatched socks. Light blue hoodie that couldn't have been more clashing if she'd tried. Mike didn't fare much better. His sweater was rumpled, but not as much as his hair. It was flying every which way, a testament to the work of her hands throughout the night.

But there was no time to think about any of that.

El haphazardly repacked her backpack as Mike buckled his belt and fought his shoes onto his feet. Finally, he tugged on his coat and met El at the door, shooting a curt nod for her to lead the way. El did so, hitting the hallway at a run. The sensation of moving so fast felt nauseating on her body that was operating on maybe three hours of sleep, but she tried to push off the feeling until she made it to the lobby.

Darting around her, Mike made a beeline for the concierge when they reached the counter. He spoke in hurried spurts, his hands accentuating his every word. The concierge nodded before he tapped a quick succession of numbers into a phone pad. He held up his finger for Mike to be patient.

Yet... Mike did not seem capable of patience.

His hands went back and forth between drumming on the countertop and turning into fists. His face was contorted into a tight ball of nerves. He seemed…

He seemed pissed.

...and of course he was pissed, she realized.

This wasn't his fault.

It was hers.

Tension began to fill her from every angle.

She had started it. She had taken their night in a reckless and irresponsible direction. She had refused his talk of falling asleep, brushing off his better judgment in exchange for her own selfish desires.

She was the source of every mistake that had caused them to miss their flight.

El gulped. Visions of him calling a cab just for himself and leaving her behind in the lobby raced through her mind. He could so easily just toss her a casual goodbye and march out the door, leaving her alone with this gargantuan mess that she had created. She didn't actually know him, after all. For him, this might have just been a massive drunken mistake...

The thought stung more than she was willing to admit.

A sense of shame began to eat away at her. She tried to calm her breath. Her eyes dropped away from Mike's tense demeanor and down to her own feet, but that only made her aware of the horribly clashing outfit that she had cobbled together. She attempted to smooth her mussed hair, but it was so ratted in the back that all she could do was pull it up into a messy bun with a hair tie that she found in her hoodie pocket. She -

"There's a cab outside."

Mike's voice was hollow as it cut through her flurry of thoughts. She looked up to find him beside her, his eyes blank as he cocked his head towards the door. She nodded dully, grateful that he was at least willing to offer her a ride to the airport. She followed him through the doorway out onto the cold wet concrete beyond. This cab driver was much more kind than the last, helping each of them with their bags before they crawled into the back seat, through separate doors.

"El."

He spoke the second that the doors shut, catching her off guard.

"Yes?" She nervously turned toward Mike, and was taken aback by his expression.

He did not look angry.

On the contrary, his eyes were practically bleeding with guilt.

"El, I am so sorry."

"What? What are you sorry for?"

"I - " he sighed as he raked his fingers roughly through his hair, "I feel like I've ruined every single part of your trip home. I should've remembered to set an alarm. I just - I didn't think we were going to actually fall asleep. I am so sorry. I just…" he shrugged in a way that looked almost pained, "I keep messing up your trip."

A frenzied laugh escaped her lips, "No! I could've set the alarm, too. I told you I didn't want to go to sleep. I'm sorry."

Mike's eyes narrowed curiously, "You're… you're not mad?"

"No," she shook her head quickly, befuddled, "You're not mad at me?"

His expression turned incredulous, "Why would I be mad at you?"

"I stopped you from setting an alarm!" she admitted intently, "I - "

At that point the cab driver hopped into the car, breaking their privacy in a way stopped her lips. The taxi driver pulled away from the curb as silence simmered over the back seat once again.

After a short moment, a soft whisper, full of admission, fell upon her ear.

"To be fair… I really didn't want to go to bed, either."

She looked over at him in surprise to find a shy smirk ghosting over his lips. He caught her eye with a knowing glance before he looked away. And with that admission, everything tilted. The tightness in her chest receded with the biggest sense of relief, and in its place the fleeting hint of a different type of simmering tension returned.

"Okay," she said gratefully, before her cheeks heated up and she dropped her voice, her own admission on her lips, "And for what it's worth? I'm pretty glad you messed up the first part of my trip," She tried to hold back a burgeoning smile, "Plus, last night was kind of worth a bit of a mess today."

Mike took a sharp intake of breath. "I thought so," he breathed tentatively, "I just, you know, I didn't want to assume that you agreed."

"If you agree, I agree," she replied, finally finding the courage to hold his gaze.

His shy smile grew, igniting his features. It played on her heart in a dangerous way. Then, in a way that caught her completely off guard, his eyes popped wide. "I think I know how to get them to rebook our flights without charges."

"You have a plan?"

"Well," he leaned back slowly and mulled it over, "The airline did book two strangers into the same hotel room. And despite how, uh, well that worked out, that's still a major error."

"Definitely good leverage. And oh!" she chirped, tapping him on his wrist as she continued, "Maybe say the alarm in the hotel room was broken or something?"

"Oh yeah, good one!" he said, smiling broadly now, "We got this. We'll get you home." He stopped himself abruptly at that and rolled his eyes at himself, "That is, if you still trust me to get you there? I have a horrible track record helping you at this point."

El felt her blush deepen as a bit of tease entered her voice, "I happen to think you've been incredibly helpful so far."

Mike laughed in reply. It was deliciously soft. And then, with a tenderness that had absolutely no place the morning after a one night stand, his hand found hers. Her heart jumped as she felt it slip beneath hers, his fingers slow in their movements as they intertwined between hers. It was such a simple gesture. So pure and innocent. Yet, it brought everything into bright relief.

She almost felt stupid in that moment. Stupid for underestimating him. Stupid for expecting that he would suddenly be the worst version of a man in the harsh light of day.

Mike wasn't like that.

On the contrary, he was worrying about her, despite having no reason to at all. Showing her affection and care only because he... wanted to?

Maybe it would have been better if he had been an asshole. At least then it would have been easy to walk away. As it stood, her fingers tightened around his, and her shoulder slid closer to be near him as they drove. His thumb ran soft trails over the back of her hand as she watched the outskirts of Rome roll by the window. And through it all, her chest expanded with a sense of feeling that was going to hurt to let go.

So naturally, the cab ride felt painfully short. Before she knew it they had pulled up to the airport drop off. With bags in hand and the cab paid for, they made their way inside and Mike, once again, took charge. With a confidence that she hadn't expected, he stalked up to the counter, holding himself at his impressive full height. In the smoothest Italian she had heard from him yet, he laid out their issues to the gate agent.

El couldn't deny it. A confident Mike speaking Italian... was painfully attractive.

While El couldn't figure out exactly what he was saying, she was able to get the gist of it from the expressions on the gate agent's face. At first, the man looked unenthused, but as Mike continued, his voice rising adamantly, the gate agent's eyes went wide and suddenly he was full of apologies. Before she knew it, the man was holding out his hand for both of their passports.

"What's happening?" El whispered to Mike as she handed her papers to the gate agent.

"Oh, he tried to tell me this was our fault but I laid out all the reasons why it's their fault. He's getting us rebooked."

"Thank you so much," El gave him a grateful smile.

Mike beamed at her. "Look, I finally got it right," he said with a self deprecating laugh.

El rolled her eyes, bumping into his arm with her shoulder, but she was interrupted by the agent, who addressed Mike one more time. Mike's expression dropped at the man's words.

"What is it?"

Mike bit back a growl, "They uh- they only have one spot available to Chicago all day. In three hours."

"Oh…" El blanched, "There's nothing else?"

Mike sighed, "He said that if we were traveling together he'd have booked us together tomorrow, but since we're obviously traveling separately he'll have to book us separately."

"Oh…" El replied, trying to keep her face straight, "Umm…"

"You should take it," Mike said suddenly, his words moving fast, "I can stay here. You should get home. Maybe we can get some lunch and then I'll just… I'll get a hotel for another night."

El smiled sadly as the reality of the situation settled on her heart. Their time had dwindled down to almost nothing...

"Thanks, but - " A bittersweet lightbulb went off over her head. She sighed, "What if they have something to Indianapolis. Then we could both get home. You wouldn't be stranded for another night. "

"Oh, yeah. That makes sense." Mike turned and translated her question to the gate agent. Nodding, the agent picked up the phone again. He nodded a few times, speaking quickly into the receiver. After a few moments the gate agent put his hand over the receiver and nodded to El, speaking in slow and heavily accented English.

"There is a flight path to Indianapolis, through New York."

"Okay, yes. I'll - I'll take that."

The gate agent nodded, typing a few keystrokes into a machine, "Boarding is in… twenty minutes. You must go now."

"What?!"

She turned to Mike immediately, and saw her own thought reflected in his eyes.

Everything ended right here. Right now. Right at this counter.

She wasn't ready…

The printer filled the air with the harsh sounds of her ticket materializing into reality.

"I - " she stammered, not sure what to say.

Mike swallowed hard. He licked his lips and took a deep breath, "Can I see you again?" he asked in a rush, "Maybe in Indiana? Over Christm - "

"Yes." Her reply was immediate.

Before she knew it she had reached over the counter and grabbed a pen from the attendant's desk. Heart suddenly smashing in her chest, she looked around for paper but found nothing. Without another thought, she snatched Mike's hand, pushed up his sleeve, and scrawled "El 463-555-1153", on the side of his wrist.

"Call me," She said, trying and failing to keep the yearning out of her voice, "When you get back?"

"Yeah!" Mike exclaimed, "I mean, yes, absolutely."

El's smile almost hurt with how fast it crashed onto her face.

"Scuzi," the attendant interrupted, waving her new tickets and passport, "You must go now."

"Okay," she replied impatiently, taking the papers from the man's hand. She turned back to Mike, "Thank you. For... for everything. I'll talk to you soon?"

He nodded, and then before she knew what was happening he pulled her into a deep hug. She breathed him in as she fell against his shoulder, trying to grab a single final second of him before this crazy experience came to such an abrupt end.

She found it so bizarrely difficult to let go.

"Scuzi!" the attendant's voice cut through, bringing her crashing back to reality. "Your flight!"

"Okay!" She barked back, pulling away from Mike. She hiked up her backpack as she looked at him one last time. "Bye, Mike."

Mike's expression was hesitant, "Bye, El..."

And with that, she forced herself to spin around and move. In a daze, her feet raced upon the hard tile toward the gates. Everything feeling so hurried, so abrupt, and so supremely unsettled. It felt oddly painful. Too immediate. Too -

"EL!"

El stopped and spun around to find Mike skidding to a stop before her. He almost slid into her as his hands reached out to cup her face. She gasped as he kissed her, her back arching to accommodate his height.

Oh, hell…

Kissing him while standing…

She almost wished she didn't know how that felt...

It was too good…

"I just… I needed to do that," he breathed against her lips, pulling away.

"Call me," she sputtered with a gobsmacked moan, her eyelids heavy and stunned.

"Tomorrow," he replied immediately, "I'll call tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," she repeated in a daze. A ray of intensity burst through her as she looked up into his eyes. She relished the deep warmth they held one last time. Her hand skirted down his forearm until she found his hand. She squeezed it and reached up for his lips one last time, dropping a final kiss, quick and light, upon him.

And then somehow… and she could never figure out how… El succeeded in convincing her body to pull away from Mike and run in the opposite direction, her lips still wet with his kiss.

10am.

Was that too early to call?

Mike paced his kitchen, piece of toast in hand, his eyes glued to the clock. His jet lag was absolutely killing him. Would it be killing her too? Would she even be awake? He didn't know what time she would've gotten home. Had she had a long layover in New York? Had she had enough to eat during the day? Had she had enough money to make a phone call to get a ride home from the airport? Had she made it home okay at all?

He looked down at his arm, his heart pounding in a delirious way. Honestly, it hadn't felt like his heart had stopped this frenzied stutter since he'd parted with her halfway on the other side of the world. Her digits were still scrawled upon his arm, the loopy L of her name trailing over to the other side of his wrist in a way that made him remember exactly how she had grabbed his hand to write it.

Sure, of course he had copied the number onto a piece of paper in his notebook the second he'd had the chance. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to wash the numbers from his skin. They felt like his only proof. The only tangible reminder that El hadn't been a dream.

He needed that reminder, because she certainly had felt like a dream…

10:05am.

Fuck it.

Mike took a deep breath and picked up the receiver. He dialed carefully, pushing each number slowly into the keypad. It rang once, twice, three times... then a click sounded, connecting the call.

"What."

Mike jolted at the voice of a clearly annoyed young man. The clattering tune of Mario theme music from a video game jangled in the background.

"Hi," Mike said with an unexpectant stutter, "Is um… is El there?"

"Wrong number."

And just like that, the call cut off.

Mike blinked in surprise. In a moment he regathered his wits and reset the receiver, lifting it back up to try again. He entered the numbers more carefully this time, double checking each number as he pushed it into the pad.

This time the call picked up on the first ring.

"What do you want?"

Mike cringed as the voice of the very same guy cut into his ear, "Hey. Sorry, but you're sure there's no El at this number?"

"Don't know what to tell you man. Seems like some bitch gave you bogus digits."

Once again, the phone clicked and a dial tone signaled the end of the call.

Mike froze, his jaw dropping.

His anger flared at the guys choice of words, but he tried to shake it off in pursuit of the larger issue at hand. She wouldn't have given him a fake number… right? He tried to replay the moment in his mind. The way she had cut him off to say yes when he'd put his ego on the line and had asked to see her again. Her face had simply lit up in a way that had made his heart purr. She had all but lunged over the counter for a pen, and she'd eagerly pushed up his sleeve to write her digits upon his skin. The intensity in her voice when she'd asked him to call... Her eyes had been starry… and so very reassuring…

No… there was no way.

After that sigh of relief Mike looked back down at his arm, trying to find another way. He studied each number. Had he read any of them incorrectly?

Taking a seat at the table, he tried out the alternatives. First, he traded the 5's for 3's. She wrote with a loop, so maybe those were the culprit? That theory struck out, though he was greeted by a much kinder person on the other end of that line. The elderly woman who answered had never heard of an El. She wished him luck in a sweet croaky voice. He continued on.

Next, he tried 7's instead of 1's. That attempt took him to the answering machine for a men's barbershop…

He attempted a few more combinations, his nerves getting tighter with each attempt, but each one of them led to another dead end.

Finally, his face stubbornly set, Mike picked up the phone and put the original numbers in one more time.

"Dude! I told you! There's -"

"Hold on!" Mike interrupted the punk, "This is the number she gave me. She wouldn't have given me a fake on purpose."

"You sure about that?" the guy challenged.

Mike rolled his eyes. Hard. "Yes. You're sure you don't know anyone named El?"

The guy scoffed, "Dude, it's not her number anymore, leave me the fuck alone."

Click.

Heart surging, Mike didn't even hesitate as he redialed.

"Fuck off! I - "

"Anymore?!" Mike bellowed, cutting over the guy's protestations, "You're saying this used to be her number?"

"Fuck if I know! Listen, you're not the first person to call for some chick named El, but -"

"How long have you had this number?" Mike demanded.

"I don't know… a couple months?"

Mike breathed a sigh of relief, "I bet this is her old number. Listen, if I gave you my number could you pass it along if she calls?"

"I'm not your fucking answering machine," the guy griped, "Now Stop. Fucking. Calling."

Click.

Mike growled as a fresh wave of frustration threatened to barrel him over. He took a deep breath and replaced the phone on its base. A corner of his mind relished in the sudden dream of barging into that asshole's house, ripping his video game controller from his hand, and clocking him in the face with it.

He struggled to pull his attention back to the issue at hand…

At least the problem now seemed clear: El had given him her old number, hopefully by mistake. It would make sense, if he'd understood her story correctly. She'd mentioned something about her dad moving while she'd been in Europe.

No big deal, this was probably an easy fix. Just a quick call to the operator and he'd have all of the information he needed. He didn't even think twice as he pressed zero on the phone. A friendly female voice popped up on the other side.

"Operator. How may I help you?"

"Hi, I need to find someone's new phone number?"

"Do you have their name and original number?"

"Yeah," he looked down at his arm, "463-555-1111. El."

"Last name?"

"..."

"Last name?" The operator repeated.

Mike's jaw had dropped. He willed something to come out, but his tongue came up horrifyingly empty.

"I… I don't know…"

The woman hummed in understanding and began typing keys. "I apologize, sir, but the previous owner of this number was listed as private. Forwarding information is not available for private listings."

Something cold began to radiate through Mike's body. "Um… can you… can you tell me the last name, at least?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but as I said, this is a private listing."

"Shit," his breath started to go heavy, "Is there… do you know any other way to find this out? Please? It's important."

"As it's a private listing, there would be no way to find out this information other than directly from the owner of the number. Is there anything else I can - "

The woman's voice disappeared mid-sentence as Mike dropped the phone with a heavy thud.

He blinked in stillness as the truth set in.

He had no idea how to reach her…

He didn't even know her full name…

Mike's stomach filled with dread. Why hadn't he given her his number? Why hadn't he taken ten extra seconds to make sure that she had a way to find him, too? And why, over the course of an entire night, hadn't he asked for her full name?! It was such an obvious question! It was something any normal person would have asked! Especially if they were going to sleep with that person!

What the hell had he been thinking?!

Oh right, he hadn't been thinking.

He'd been so overwhelmed at every turn, unbelieving of his luck and absolutely sure that he would eventually fuck it up. And look at that! He had absolutely fucked it up. Big Time.

Mike's brain began to scramble, hoping against hope that clues to her full name lived inside of his memory. He swore that he'd seen or heard her full name once or twice while they'd been dealing with arrangements at the many counters they'd been at during those fleeting hours. Her passport had even been in his hand at one point! He had been so close… It had all been so fast, though. It hadn't seemed to stick. If he thought incredibly hard he vaguely recollected an H somewhere in her name? Harlow? Hanley? Harbour?

None of it felt right…

As the days passed one would have expected that maybe he'd come to his senses. But not Mike. His mind ran endlessly with the memory of her, growing more like a fable each day, and he began to pull at threads.

Once he called the records office at Indiana University, asking for an El who had graduated that year with a social work degree. A dead end. Confidentiality got in his way yet again.

On another day, feeling like an absolute crazy person, he phoned the Indianapolis Police Department where he was sure her father had at least once worked. He was not surprised to be turned away from that attempt, but nonetheless he checked that lead off of his list.

And a week later, unable to shake his need, he spent an entire day at the Chicago Public Library. He combed through the wedding announcements in the Indianapolis Stars from the summer and fall, but he found no wedding announcements that mentioned a daughter/step-daughter named El.

It was only that night that the hard truth finally settled in his stomach.

He had no idea how to find her. In fact, the more he looked, the more it felt like she had never existed at all.

A jarring and bizarre sense of loss washed over him. He couldn't shake it, no matter how much his rational mind tried. It had only been one night, but there was a panic within him akin to losing something treasured. Something precious. Something that he'd so had so desperately wanted to hold onto. For a fleeting moment, as she'd scrawled those numbers on his arm, he'd convinced himself that maybe he would have the chance to do just that. To see her again, once, twice, a million times if he was lucky.

There was just… something about her. The tone of her laugh. The kind acceptance in her gaze. The tenacious independence she seemed to exude. The softness of her skin as she removed her dress and his hand slipped across the small of their back, her lips on his. He couldn't remember anyone ever kissing him like that. With such abandon. With such need. It had almost been dangerous how fast his heart had swung open at her kiss.

He couldn't shake it. She had felt so oddly… perfect.

Maybe that was it, he thought in dark dissent as he tried yet again to brush it off. Maybe he had gotten such a small taste of her that he'd been able to construct this sense of perfection. A perfectly gorgeous alternate reality. A space where she could fit like a puzzle piece, suspended outside of the actual comings and goings of his life.

An escape. From his dead end semester and his absolutely empty slate of a future. From hard conversations and even harder decisions.

Yet, he couldn't deny... something in his heart tugged deeper than that.

What more could he do about it, though? He'd made himself uncomfortable with his own level of searching. He felt like he was beginning to verge into the territory of a stalker. He couldn't think of anything else he could do.

And even if he had been able to reach her, what would he have done?! Traveled halfway across Indiana for a coffee date two days after Christmas, only to see her once more, and then never again?

But God, what he wouldn't give for that one time…

As had happened so many times in the last week, his thoughts led him back to the phone. The numbers on his arm had long since faded, but it was no worry. He had committed the number to memory at this point. He'd called it over the intervening week more times that he would have liked to admit. With a sense of dejection he the tapped in the offending number one last time.

It rang once. Twice. Three times. Until the harsh click of a tape began.

"What's up. Leave a message, maybe I'll hear it. And to the dude who won't stop calling. El doesn't live here so hang up and leave me the hell alone, you loser."

Mike groaned. He returned the phone to the receiver.

Honestly? The asshole who had El's old number now? He was kind of right.

Mike was a massive loser.

He dropped his head to the kitchen table as a rush of shame overcame him. He barely heard the door when it opened behind him.

"Oh, hey!"

Mike straightened up as Will's voice called through the house. He worked to right his expression as Will shook the snow out of the boots by the door.

"I've hardly seen you since you got home. How've you been?"

"Oh, yeah. Jet lag, sleeping, you know," Mike lied, too ashamed to tell the truth, "How've you been?"

Will shrugged as he dropped his bag on the table, "Well, you know, work never stops. It's… ten days in a row this time? I'm exhausted. But hey, vacation starts right now! I've got a full week off." Will slipped heavily into the chair opposite Mike, "So, hey. I know we weren't planning on heading home until the day after tomorrow, but there's a storm coming in tomorrow night. Do you mind leaving tomorrow afternoon so we can try to beat it?"

Mike tried to stop his expression from turning sour. Heading home to Hawkins for Christmas? It felt like a small death. He had too many hard conversations coming up there. Terrible grades and the unceremonious end of school. The future of his finances, now that he was certain that his parents would cut him off. The truth was, if he could choose? He would never go home at all.

But he knew… it needed to happen.

"Yeah, that's fine," Mike's voice was quiet, "I'll pack in the morning."

Will looked up, and in that moment Mike knew that Will had read his voice, "You okay?"

Something in Mike's chest tugged. Will was his best friend, after all. He would understand. He was safe to talk about it. But... it all felt so exhausting. Hopeless. He just couldn't bring himself to speak about it. It was just a little too embarrassing, being this broken up over a girl whom he'd known for only one day...

"Yeah, I'm fine," Mike said, forcing a smile.

It wasn't like Will could help, anyway...

If only Mike knew... Next chapter coming soon!