Max tore through the underbrush, heart pounding against her ribcage, lungs screaming for oxygen.

Leaves and twigs snapped underfoot as she sprinted like she never had before, the forest floor a blur beneath her. Mike was right behind her, his ragged breaths and thudding footfalls a welcome sound.

Her legs burned, but she didn't dare slow down. Branches whipped at her face and arms, leaving stinging welts, but she barely noticed. Panic was her fuel, propelling her forward.

She turned. Turned again. The demodog didn't seem to be chasing them at top speed, almost as if it was savouring the hunt. But it couldn't be far behind them; she could hear it snorting and snarling and–

There was a yell to her left and she glanced back in time to see Mike trip over something, pitching forward and losing his grip on his flashlight as he fell to the ground.

Max wheeled around and ran to him, seeing his foot trapped under a protruding tree root. He grunted in pain as she wrenched it free and pulled him to his feet.

"Come on!" She tugged him along with her, their hands clasped tightly, but he was slow, limping and clearly hurting from his fall.

"Max, just go!" he panted, yanking his hand from hers.

She whirled around, frowning and reaching for his sleeve. "What the fuck are you talking about? Let's go!"

"You have to go on without me, I'll just slow you down."

"No, I'm not leaving you!" Max exclaimed. The idea of leaving him behind was absurd. What was he doing?

He shook his head, dropping his backpack and holding up the bat in his hand. "Go. Save yourself. I'll be okay."

She hesitated, but then the rustling behind them got louder and Mike widened his eyes. "Now, Max!"

Nodding resolutely, she ran ahead into some denser trees. That noble,self-sacrificing moron. There was no way she was just abandoning him. Not when she could help. She just needed to–

Her feet came skidding to a halt when she realized she'd reached the edge of the quarry. She peered down into the inky blackness, a sheer hundred-foot drop into ice cold water. Shit. Nowhere left to run.

Ditching her backpack, Max ducked behind some large bushes and peeked through the branches in time to see Mike limp into the clearing, walking slowly backwards as if he didn't want to make any sudden movements. The bat was in his hands, brandished in front of him defensively.

The demodog appeared only a few seconds later, the petal-like flaps on its face fluttering as it stalked slowly toward him like he was prey.

This one was bigger than Dart, more than halfway to its mature form but still on all fours, its slimy reptilian skin shining in the moonlight.

With shaking, sweaty hands, Max reached back and pulled the gun out of her waistband. Her heart hammered so hard in her chest she was certain it must be audible.

The creature advanced on Mike, forcing him to back up all the way to the quarry's edge. It paused, lifting its head in the air as if it was sniffing him before growling softly.

Mike chose that moment to act, clumsily swinging the bat but missing the demodog by at least half a foot.

Provoked, it lurched forward and let out a screeching roar, its face flaps flaring wide open. Mike's foot slipped, his heel sending loose gravel cascading over the cliff.

Terror seized Max's heart as she watched him nearly lose his balance, and she had to clap her palm over her mouth to stop herself from crying out. She had to act, she couldn't just sit by and watch.

Standing silently, she gripped the gun with both hands and raised it, cocking it with her thumb and taking aim. But the angle she was at put Mike slightly between her and the demodog, and she didn't trust herself to get a clear shot with him there, especially not from this distance.

And she only had two bullets.

Max inhaled shakily. She was about to do something really, really stupid.

Darting her tongue out to wet her dry lips, she let out a high-pitched whistle, catching the attention of both Mike and the demodog.

"Come here, ugly," she taunted as she stepped out from behind the bushes.

The demodog growled and stalked toward her in a wide arc. Max swallowed and tightened her hold on the gun, her index finger resting on the trigger. The next time it opened its mouth to roar she'd send a bullet right down its throat.

Ignoring every instinct she had, she forced herself to stand her ground as the creature drew nearer, stopping when it was only a few feet away.

It tilted its eyeless head to the side, as if it was appraising her. Her finger twitched on the trigger. Any second now…

But the demodog didn't roar. Instead, it lunged straight at her.

Max threw herself left, heard—and felt—the creature land hard on the space she'd occupied mere seconds before.

Her own body hit the ground so hard her teeth rattled in her skull. A root jabbed into her shoulder and she grunted, losing her position on the trigger and nearly the gun itself.

She tried to roll away but the creature was faster, all of its weight landing squarely on her side.

Her yell of shock was knocked out of her and she gasped breathlessly, barely succeeding in twisting away from the teeth that clamped down inches from her cheek—hot, rancid breath fanning out over her face.

She wasn't so lucky with the claws, letting out a shriek as she felt them pierce the skin of her torso. White hot pain seared through her. She struggled desperately against its freakish strength, its sharp nails tearing at her arms as she tried to block her face and neck.

Max was certain this was it. She was going to die here. This thing was about to rip her throat open and tear her limb from limb.

She whimpered as the demodog drew its front leg back, talons spread wide as it prepared to deliver the final blow. I'm sorry, Mike, was her only thought as she readied herself for the inevitable.

But then there was a flash of movement behind the creature and Mike appeared, eyes blazing, the baseball bat lifted high over his head before he brought it down on its back with a shout.

The demodog roared in anger, its grotesque mouth open wide above her and, without a moment's hesitation, Max angled the gun into its throat and pulled the trigger twice in quick succession.

The beast let out a sickening squeal as it was thrown backwards from the force of the gunshots.

It twitched for several seconds before collapsing limply on the ground in front of her.

Her ears were ringing as she tossed the revolver aside, lifting up to her elbows to see Mike standing over her, breathing hard and staring down at the deceased demodog.

She felt paralyzed, her whole body trembling as she watched him drag the carcass to the edge of the cliff and kick it over, a loud splash echoing out after a few seconds.

Then he was running back over, coming to a crouch in front of her. Max couldn't tear her eyes away from the edge of the ravine, certain the monster was somehow alive and clawing its way back up.

Mike was saying something. He was right there but he sounded muffled, like she was underwater, his words gradually getting clearer as her hearing returned.

After a few seconds, she snapped out of her trance and looked up at him, shaken.

"Holy shit, Max," he breathed, his gaze running over her to see if she was injured, lingering on the torn fabric at her ribs.

Her eyes locked onto his face. It was covered in blood spatter from being behind the dog when she shot it, the flecks of red mixing with his freckles. There was a gash above his eyebrow and another on his lip from when they'd been running through the forest earlier.

His brow furrowed as his hands cradled her face, wiping away whatever mixture of blood and mud was on her cheeks with his thumbs.

"You could've died you fucking idiot!" he hissed, his tone at odds with his gentle touch.

"Yeah well, you were being a total damsel in distress, Wheeler," she laughed somewhat hysterically, her voice sounding weird to her own ears. "One of us had to do something."

Wincing, Max pushed herself up to a seated position. She was aware that she probably had a few injuries, but any pain she may have felt was numbed by the adrenaline still coursing throughout her entire body.

They were both breathing raggedly, chests heaving as they stared at each other, their faces less than a foot apart.

One of Mike's hands was still resting on her jaw. His eyes were bright and wild as they flitted between hers, reflecting the moonlight above.

The air between them became charged—alive and crackling with intensity.

Her pulse thrummed in every vein and capillary as the tension announced itself like a downed electrical wire sparking all over the place, daring someone to touch it. The kind of high-voltage current that was dangerous.

His gaze dropped to her lips. She licked them.

And then.

They collided, open mouths crashing together violently. It immediately became an unbridled exchange of raw desire—teeth and tongues clashing in a tumultuous dance.

Her back hit the ground as he landed on top of her, their lips never breaking contact.

She sucked hard on his tongue and he groaned, ducking down to lick a stripe up the side of her throat before biting down harshly. Max gasped and yanked him back up to her mouth by his hair, sinking her teeth into his bottom lip in retaliation.

They fought for control, hands everywhere, pushing away and pulling closer at the same time. She managed to roll them over so she was on top, a knee on either side of him.

Her fingers flew to the buttons of his plaid shirt, fumbling with the first few before she gave up and just ripped it open with a frustrated noise, sending the rest of the buttons flying around them.

She flattened her palm on the centre of his chest over his t-shirt. It felt like his heart was trying to escape his ribcage.

Mike grabbed her wrist and she thought he was going to pull it away, but instead, his thumb pressed to the inside of it as if he was checking her own racing pulse. As if he needed to convince himself that she really was alright.

For her part, Max had never felt more alive. She could feel her heartbeat everywhere—pounding behind her ribs, buzzing through her veins, throbbing between her legs.

Their eyes met, chests rising and falling in tandem as something palpable ricocheted between them.

His brows pinched together, and he looked at her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.

But the moment of stillness lasted only a few seconds before she curled her fingers into his shirt and crushed her lips back onto his, their kiss instantly furious and hungry and desperate.

Max could taste blood. She wasn't even sure whose it was, but the sharp, copper tang was just another welcome reminder that their hearts were still pumping.

Her teeth closed around his lower lip and tugged, craving more of it. Mike grunted indignantly and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling hard and making her cry out. It should have hurt, but it didn't. It was all just feeling bursting through her, bright and electric; right there on the mossy ground.

His hands gripped her waist as he flipped them over and pinned her again, holding her down with his body weight as his mouth devoured hers.

She reached around to shove the fabric of his shirt up before raking her nails hard down his back, revelling in the pained hiss that left his lips.

He managed to tear her hands off of his body, trapping her wrists above her head with one hand, the other one propping him up as he ground his pelvis hard against her, the rigid line of his erection unmistakable between her legs.

She could smell his sweat, taste it on his skin—the familiar, musky scent of him overwhelming her senses. God, she'd missed this. She'd missed this so much.

Her fingernails dug into the back of his hand while her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer as white-hot pleasure jolted through her with every frantic collision of their hips.

Max was so pent up she could easily come just from this, but she needed to be closer to him. She wanted to feel his skin against hers, the warmth that proved he was okay, that he was really here.

She wanted more. More heat. More friction.

Mike must have felt the same way because with a grunt he gave her one final, hard thrust before sitting up, his hands tearing at the fly of her jeans. She lifted her hips, helping him shimmy them partway down her thighs along with her underwear.

He was back on her quickly, sucking two fingers into his mouth before sliding them between her legs where she'd already started getting wet, rubbing hard and fast.

Max whined as she rocked up against them, reaching, seeking more. It wasn't enough. She tried to widen her legs but it was impossible with her jeans around her thighs.

She needed him inside her.

"Mike, I need–"

He understood immediately, kneeling up and grabbing at his belt.

"Turn around," he breathed.

She felt hyper-aware of everything around her as she scrambled to her hands and knees. The dirt was cool and damp beneath her palms, the scent of it filled her nostrils, rich and earthy.

And then Mike's warm hands landed on her hips as he positioned himself behind her, slamming into her with a single smooth thrust that forced the air from her lungs in a loud groan.

"Fuck, Max," he growled as he immediately began pounding into her.

Max could only moan weakly in reply, her head dropping down towards the ground. He was killing her—his cock driving in so deep she swore she could feel him in her kidneys. His fingers dug into her waist and god, she hoped they bruised.

It was so fast and so rough and they were both covered in blood and dirt and she didn't even care.

This was real. They were here. They were alive. Alive alive alive—she thought with each rhythmic slap of his hips against hers.

They'd saved each other's lives. Max didn't know what she would do if she'd lost him. The notion filled her with dread, but then Mike thrust into her particularly hard, hitting a spot that made all errant thought fly right out of her head.

They were loud—their gasps and groans echoing out around them. He gathered her undone ponytail in his fist and wrenched her head back, forcing her spine into a deeper arch as she let out a strangled moan.

Jesus Christ, it felt like he was breaking her in half. They'd gotten a little rough before, but not like this.

They must have looked like wild animals—like wolves—fucking each other on the forest floor under the light of the moon.

She fucking loved it.

"Harder, baby" she choked out between punishing thrusts.

He gave it to her, even though he was already hammering into her so relentlessly she could barely breathe. He always listened so well.

It should have been too much but she just wanted more. She wanted to feel everything.

Her whole body started tensing up, fingers scrabbling into the dirt as she became overwhelmed by sensation—every single nerve ending sparking and crackling.

A deep, rolling pleasure spread from her core throughout her entire being, building and building until she was trembling and gasping when it finally shattered in an orgasm so intense that it swept her away from reality in a tornado of lust and ecstasy.

Mike panted hard behind her, his fingers digging into her almost painfully as the rhythm of his hips became erratic.

Seconds later, he let out a low, animalistic moan as he finished too, emptying himself inside of her. He fell forward, his uneven breath hot against the back of her neck.

Max sobbed from the feeling of herself pulsing around him while waves of sensation continued to crash over her, dimly aware of a warmth spreading deep in her core.

Nothing in her life had ever felt so good.

Her blood was still whooshing in her ears when he eventually softened and pulled out with a quiet groan.

She got to her knees and tugged her underwear and pants up before turning to face him.

Still fighting to catch their breath, they stared bewildered at each other as reality came crashing back in like the Kool-Aid man.

Fuck. Fuck! What the hell had they just done? This was bad. This was so bad.

Then, right when it looked as if Mike had opened his mouth to speak, a crackling sound came from a few feet away.

"Mike? Max? Do you copy?" Dustin's voice rang out loudly into the quiet woods.

Mike lunged for her discarded backpack and pulled out the radio. "Dustin, we're here. Uh, over."

"Are you guys done yet? What the hell's taking so long? Over."

"Yeah, um, there was a demodog we had to handle. We just… finished. Over."

"Well get your asses to the pumpkin patch, Nancy and I are already here and Steve and Lucas are almost done digging. Over and out."

"Ten-four." Mike put the walkie-talkie back into the bag and got to his feet. "Let's go."

He held out a hand to help her up but Max ignored it, not sure what would happen if she touched him right now.

Standing on unsteady legs, she dusted herself off, glancing up to find Mike giving her a wary once over. She must look completely wrecked.

He looked worse for wear as well. His shirt hung open because half the buttons were somewhere on the forest floor, his hair stuck up in all directions, and she was pretty sure she could see the clear imprint of her teeth at the place where his shoulder met his neck.

He went to run a hand through his hair but froze when he realized his palm was wet and shiny with blood.

Looking back at her in dismay, his eyes landed on where her shirt was slashed open over her side, soaked through now with her blood.

"You're hurt…"

"It's okay," she said, waving off his concern. She tugged her sweatshirt off over her head and tied the sleeves tightly around her waist, hoping it would help staunch the flow of blood. "I'll survive."

The walk back to the car was silent, both of them still dazed from what had just transpired. Mike was limping, his ankle sore from when he'd tripped and twisted it.

Max was pretty sure they both looked like they'd just gone ten rounds in a boxing ring. She felt like it too—her aching ribs and the stinging cuts on her arms matching the bruised heat between her thighs.

There was dirt caked under her fingernails and on the knees of her jeans, and the fabric of her sweater was shredded from her battle with the demodog. She smoothed a hand over her ponytail, cringing when she found it matted with pine needles and twigs.

They didn't speak in the car either, letting the radio fill the silence as they rumbled down the bumpy gravel road.

Max busied herself with picking forest debris out of her hair. She shifted in her seat, grimacing at the uncomfortable stickiness leaking into her underwear. Letting him come inside her had been stupid and irresponsible, but in the moment it had felt so right.

They'd always been so careful other than that very first time, and even then he'd pulled out. At least her period had just ended a couple days ago, so she was probably in the clear.

God, having sex with Mike at all had been beyond fucking stupid. Especially when his girlfriend—shit, was that what El was? The thought made Max nauseous—had no reservations about straight-up murdering anyone she perceived as a threat.

What the fuck had she been thinking? She hadn't been, obviously. She'd just… completely lost control. It'd been a raw, instinctual need that neither of them could have stopped if they tried.

If life or death situations like that were what first bonded him and Eleven together, Max understood it now—it was a potent drug.

Or maybe… maybe it was just closure?

Yeah, that's it, she thought to herself as she took a deep breath. They had ended so abruptly that they just needed one last time to get it out of their systems so they could move on.

That's all it was. Closure.

"Hurry, Max!"

Acrid smoke and the anguished shrieks of demodogs filled the air as Max grasped Lucas's outstretched hand. He grunted with exertion as he hauled her out of the burning tunnel and into the safety of the pumpkin patch.

She staggered a few steps away before collapsing to her knees as she tore the bandana off of her face, sucking in lungfuls of cool night air.

Steve emerged next, followed by Dustin and finally Mike, all of them gagging from smoke inhalation and gasping for breath.

"That better… have fucking… worked," Steve choked out between retching coughs.

They all looked over as Dustin's walkie-talkie crackled to life in his hand.

"Chief, do you copy?" Jonathan's tinny voice asked over the speaker.

A click, and then, "Here, kid."

"Close it."

Max grabbed onto the handle above the door as Nancy jerked the steering wheel hard, careening around a corner without braking.

In the scramble to get back she had gotten into the first car she saw that wasn't Mike's. They'd formed a convoy of sorts through the deserted streets of Hawkins—Nancy in front, followed by Mike and then Steve.

It was silent in the car, both girls lost in their own thoughts as the adrenaline wore off and bone-deep exhaustion began to set in.

They knew that El had succeeded in closing the gate but they hadn't received any updates since; didn't know if she and Hopper had made it out or if Will was okay.

Nancy was gripping the wheel tightly, clearly anxious to reunite with Jonathan. Max hoped those two finally got together after this. The chemistry was so apparent to anyone who spent more than two minutes around them.

They turned down Cornwallis and Max gazed out over the freshly ploughed fields that in a few months would turn green with sprouting corn stalks.

On the horizon, the tiniest hint of blue had become visible in the black expanse of sky as the sun began rising on the longest night of her life.

Her nerves were completely frayed. Everything felt surreal, thoughts and images swirling through her mind without being able to grasp onto anything concrete. She felt unmoored—unravelled like a spool of thread.

The car rumbled as it turned onto the gravel road that led to the Byers' house. Hopper's truck was already there, parked haphazardly right in front.

Nancy came to a hard stop behind it and cut the engine, flinging open the driver's side door at the same time that the front door of the house flew open and Jonathan came running out.

He paused on the porch, his eyes taking a split second to lock onto Nancy before a huge, relieved smile broke out over his face and they ran to each other.

Max watched from the passenger seat as they met in the middle, immediately clinging together, hands gripping each other's arms as they very obviously fought the instinct to kiss.

They chuckled nervously before embracing in a full-bodied hug instead, holding each other close as they exchanged whispered words of comfort.

She couldn't help but smile at the sight, opening her door and getting out just as the other two cars pulled up.

"Mike!" Eleven appeared in the doorway, hair wild and eyes shining. Her face had been cleaned off but there was still a faint red tinge of blood around her nose and mouth.

She became a blur in Max's periphery as she dashed across the driveway, stumbling slightly in her hurry to reach Mike.

Max tried with all her might to keep her eyes trained on the house in front of her, but her masochistic side quickly won out, forcing her to turn around and witness the star-crossed lovers' epic reunion.

El's cheek was pressed to his chest, her arms tight around his waist like she was never letting him go again, and Mike was–

Max's heart stuttered to a halt. Mike was looking at her.

His chin rested on top of El's head, hands splayed across her back, but his eyes were locked on Max, his expression sombre and unreadable but intense.

For a moment it was as if they were the only ones there, even as Dustin and Lucas ran to her and nearly knocked her off her feet with a hug. Max didn't know what to make of it, an unbearable itch suddenly burning just beneath her skin.

It was– it was too much.

She broke eye contact first, shifting her attention to the boys as they excitedly recounted their respective nights.

The corners of her mouth forced themselves into a smile as she pretended to listen, unable to ignore the volitile tempest of conflicting emotions warring in the pit of her stomach.

A while later they were all once again gathered in the Byers' living room, except now the atmosphere was one of shellshocked relief rather than dread.

Everybody had been fixed up who needed it, thankfully with only minor injuries. Joyce had done her best at cleaning and stitching Max's wound for her. It was going to leave an ugly scar. A permanent reminder of this night that she would rather erase from her memory.

Will sat huddled in between Joyce and Jonathan on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket as they described his quasi-exorcism in the tool shed.

Lucas, Dustin, and Steve were cross-legged on the floor, mugs of hot chocolate clutched between their hands as they listened rapturously, while Eleven and Mike shared the armchair.

He leaned in as she whispered something in his ear, his thumb stroking soothingly over her shoulder.

Max hovered on the outskirts, leaning against the kitchen door frame with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She observed the heartwarming scene for a minute before smiling sadly and turning away.

As she headed for the back door she swiped at the tears rolling freely down her cheeks, unable to hold them back a second longer.

She had been fooling herself. It hadn't been closure at all.

Her wretched, wounded heart was cracked wide open.

Authors note: Sigh. They're a disaster, you guys.

Fun fact: that life-affirming sex scene is one of the first scenes I outlined for this fic, and it's one of my favourite smut scenes I've ever written!

Also, I feel like I should mention that Bob is alive, he's just been having a quiet night at his own house watching Jeopardy before going to bed at a reasonable hour lol

Next chapter, Mike is doing some long-awaiting soul searching