I still own nothing.

Eleven didn't feel very well when Mike and Nancy Wheeler came to visit her at the cabin. In all honesty, to say she "didn't feel very well" was a bit of an understatement. Her stomach felt queasy, everything was sore, and all this was topped off with a bitch of a cramp.

She knew it wasn't a stomach bug. A few months ago, Nancy had had to explain what a period was and why the hellish experience even existed in the first place. The son of a bitch had happened four times since then, and she was already sick of it.

She'd thought it was the flu or some other virus at first, but she knew better. Several months ago, Hopper called Nancy and Joyce over, and the two had had to explain what a period was and why the hellish experience even existed in the first time. The son of a bitch had happened seven times since then, and Eleven was sick of it.

Mike hadn't had the "pleasure" of being around her during those weeks yet. This time, however, when Hopper had phoned Nancy and asked her to bring over some "feminine hygiene products" (Hopper refused to say tampon), Mike had overheard and begged to tag along (of course, he hadn't known the reason the chief was calling his sister).

Nancy had even tried to warn him in the car, "Now, Mike, she's not feeling to well, so make sure to -"

"Nancy," Mike had told her, "I'm not dense,"

Nancy had bit back an "Are you sure about that?" and kept her eyes on the road in silence.

She tried to give him heads up during the five minute walk through the woods.

"She's probably going to be a little moody, you know," She said.

Mike hadn't listened to her then, either, "I've been around her sick before, Nancy. I know,"

"Hi, El!" He greeted, chipper (and clueless) as always.

Eleven wanted to kiss him.

Or slap him. She really didn't know.

Nancy stepped inside right after him, discretely slipping El a small box from her coat pocket.

"Thank you," Eleven mouthed silently.

Nancy smiled at her and patted her on the shoulder.

"So," Nancy said, "It's around lunchtime. You guys hungry?"

Having slept through breakfast, Eleven realized that the idea of lunch sounded more than inviting. The stitch in her stomach was now accompanied by growling.

Eggos sounded good...or maybe they didn't. Chocolate sounded good. Chocolate sounded really good. But Hopper didn't generally keep sweets. Maybe pickles? No, Hopper hardly ever kept pickles either; he claimed they made his mouth taste odd (although El contributed this to his smoking habit. She doubted vinegar and cigarette smoke tasted very well together). On second though, maybe Eggos did sound good.

Eleven ended up stacking her plate with both Eggos and leftovers from the previous night's dinner, which caused Mike to ask if she'd eaten that morning.

Eleven knew he was just looking out for her; he was always concerned about her. But she didn't like the tone of his voice. Was she not allowed to eat? It's a free country, Mike.

El spent the next few minutes sending Mike cold glares for the smallest of reasons (like how he kept placing his fork upside down on his plate. His syrup covered plate) and being slightly cross with him. She felt bad, of course, but that feeling went away as soon as Mike put his fork back on the plate the wrong gosh damn way.

Mike spent the next few minutes wondering why on earth Eleven kept glaring at him every three seconds. Eleven wondered why, too; of all people, she was never cold towards Mike...that is, until he put his fork upside down on his plate -his syrupcovered plate. She felt bad for being a little cross and snippy, of course, but her remorse went away as soon as Mike put his fork back on the plate the wrong gosh damn way.

"Are you okay, El?" Mike asked after the umpteenth time Eleven huffed out of literally nowhere, "Did I say something?"

"No," El said, because she couldn't lie. Friends didn't do that. And truthfully, he didn't say something. She just had to inevitable urge to lash out at someone, and, well, he just happened to be in the line of fire. He also happened to be unaware of how not to put your fork in maple syrup.

"Mike, can I talk to you for a second?" Nancy said once she saw that her little brother had cleared his plate.

Mike didn't see a point in adding on to his previous objections, and honestly, he felt like there was something more going on than just a stomach bug, "Yeah, uh, sure,"

"So," Nancy said once they were out of earshot, "You're almost fifteen years old. I'm assuming you know what a period is, right?"

"Well -yeah," Mike said, stumbling over his words as a dark blush crept over his cheeks, "Is El -?"

"Yes,"

Well, that explains it.

Nancy continued talking, "I'm going to run back to the store real quick and get her some things to make her feel a bit better. Do you think you can survive here while I do that?"

"Yeah," Mike said. He loved alone-time with Eleven, no matter how ornery the girl happened to be (although he'd be lying if he said that she didn't terrify her at that moment).

As Nancy left, Mike walked back into the kitchen. El was standing at the sink, scrubbing vigorously at a fork.

"El, I can get that if you want," Mike offered.

"I've got it," came Eleven's sharp reply.

A few minutes later, after Eleven had scrubbed all the sticky residue off of every single part of Mike's fork, Mike and Eleven sat on the couch, an uncomfortably-awkward distance apart. After a few moments of silence, Eleven spoke,

"I'm sorry," She said, "For being mean,"

Mike smiled and shook his head as he scooted closer and wrapped his arm around her, "It's okay, El. It's not your fault,"

Eleven's lips stretched into a smile in return. She felt her lips start to gravitate to his, and she closed the gap between them briefly, basking in the short-lived, syrup-flavored moment of bliss.

When Nancy came back from the store, chocolate bars in tow, she found her little brother with both his arms wrapped around Eleven, who, on a side note, was wearing Mike's green jacket with a small smile on her face.

When Nancy returned from the store -chocolate bars in tow- she found her little brother with both his arms wrapped around a sleeping Eleven, who was curled up against him, wearing his green jacket with a small smile on her face.

Nancy smiled to herself; looks like Mike learned how to tame the beast.

I like this one; I hope you guys do too :)