tammy!!

A little over a year into college, and Mike’s habit of completing important projects 24 hours before the due date was still in full effect. 

“Mikey, Mikey, Mikey!” Will giggled, rushing down the hallway of their humble apartment. Mike instantly broke focus on his essay, caregiver instincts in full effect. He had no clue Will had regressed; hell, he barely remembered Will didn’t have any classes today. 

“Hey, bud,” Mike smiled tiredly, pushing his laptop onto their scuffed-up coffee table and letting out a small “umph!” as Will crawled into his lap without warning.

He was hyper today, happy.

That made Mike genuinely smile, nodding along to Will’s barely sensible babbling as he took in just how lively Will looked today. He was talking with his hands, swaying without realizing, and giggling throughout almost all his words.

It’d been months– maybe even years- since Will had been this gleeful during fall.

“Miiikeeey!” Will whined, tugging on his caregiver's navy blue sweatshirt with a pout. “You aren’t ‘istenin’!” Will frowned, creasing his brow in a way that made Mike want to pinch his cheeks.

Still, Mike blinked, “Sorry, sorry– tell me one more time, I’m listening this time.” He promised, his brain finally catching up to the conversation.

“Wan’ do arts ‘n ‘rafts!” His little one exclaimed, “Go ahead, bud, Mikey’s still doing homework.” Mike explained. Being a caregiver in college wasn’t the easiest job in the world, but Mike wouldn’t trade it for the world. Especially when his little was Will.

The little squealed excitedly, standing up from his seat on his caregiver’s lap before rushing back down the hall. Mike watched for a moment before grabbing his laptop and continuing his work. He only had a few more paragraphs. 

He could totally manage.

…Totally.

Will came back with his arts ‘n crafts container in tow, eagerly opening up the box of various art supplies and rummaging around before pulling out his desired medium of the day.

Paint.

As a caregiver, especially as a caregiver to a little as sensitive as Will, Mike did his best to avoid fussing over small things.

Not tired at bedtime? Mike didn’t have a problem reading multiple stories, sometimes making some up off the top of his head.

Picky eating phase? Mike would remake as many grilled cheese sandwiches as Will desired.

Hell, nearly 100% of the time, Will didn’t give Mike a reason to fuss. Sure, PTSD kicked both their asses, but that wasn’t anything to fuss over– just something to adapt to.

All this to say, Mike was not the type of caregiver to deny his little of anything… without reason.

Today, Mike had a reason for not wanting Will to use paint. Mike estimated that he would still be working on the essay in front of him for hours, meaning he wouldn’t have time to clean up the excess paint before it dried onto the carpet and couch. 

Add in the fact that Will almost always required a bath after painting, and the caregiver knew that there was just no way he had time for that today. 

“Will, maybe no paint today– yeah?” Mike asked, his voice wavering slightly. Call him a pushover, but he hated telling Will ‘no’. 

Will looked up, smile fading from his face, giggles were a thing of the past. “But,” His brow furrowed with disappointment. “But y-you said,” Will’s eyes glossed over, and Mike felt his heart break for his little, “You said I could make art…” He mumbled, his lip quivering as his sad eyes pierced through to Mike’s heart.

“I know, baby, but-” Mike was cut off by Will letting out an angry huff before slamming his paint brushes on the floor, kicking out angrily, and hitting the coffee table with his foot. “Will!” Mike exclaimed, not even out of anger– more so just shocked by his little’s actions.

“You can’t do that, Will. You could get hurt.” The caregiver scolded, standing up and crouching down on the floor next to his best friend. Mike racked his brain for what to do in this scenario. Will was not the type of little to throw tantrums– hell, Mike could count the number of tantrums he had on one hand.

“Just remember the four A’s.” Steve had told him the first time it happened, “What?” Mike asked, helpless frustration building in his tone. “The four A’s. Assess what’s happening, acknowledge the little’s feelings… then get an apology.”

Assess. 

Mike’s eyes took in the sight before him. Will’s tears were thick as they trailed down his face– he was murmuring something about just wanting to paint, but it only made the caregiver feel worse. 

“Baby, c’mere,” Mike reached out for his little, making sure to keep his tone steady. Will swatted his hand away, continuing to sob and back away. The black-haired man bit his lip, peering at Will with soft eyes before continuing to the next step.

Acknowledge.

“Will, I know you’re upset– I understand,” Mike’s voice was soft, stuck in a tone that was purely reserved for Will. “N-No ‘ou don’t!” The little sniffled, shaking his head as he wiped away his tears with his sleeve. 

“I do, bud. I understand you’re probably sad–” He was obviously sad, but Mike continued.

“-- And that’s okay, you’re allowed to be sad,” Mike promised, his heart breaking as Will hiccuped against his own sob. His sniffles grew more frequent as he glared tear-filled eyes at his caregiver.

“But you can’t throw your brushes like that, or kick things.” Mike always felt bad scolding Will, even when a scolding was necessary. “Or shove,” Mike added, making the little let out a pitiful whimper that hit him right in the heart.

Will’s gaze softened slowly, hiccuping and sniffling as he reached out for his caregiver. The raven-haired man pulled him into a hug, cooing and murmuring quiet reassurance as he rubbed his little’s back. 

Will buried his face into the crook of Mike’s neck, dampening the collar of his sweater– the caregiver didn’t mind, though. 

“Can you say sorry?” Mike asked gently, leaning back and examining his little’s dirtied face. Tear stains and drying snot gave the brunette a disheveled appearance. Will whined,  pouting in his carer’s lap before murmuring something intelligible.

“Hm?” Mike asked, leaning in closer. Will whimpered, “Said m’ sorry…” He murmured, “F-for kickin’ and…bein’ a brat.” 

Mike furrowed his brow, dipping his head down slightly to meet his little’s gaze. “You are not a brat.” Mike’s tone was serious, but nowhere near scary. “You got frustrated, and that’s more than okay.” He explained gently, “Just…next time, no kicking the coffee table– kay?”

Will nodded sheepishly, snuggling against his caregiver’s chest. 

The two stayed like that for a comfortable amount of time before Will eventually asked if he could use his paint set tomorrow. 

“Of course you can,” Mike smiled, ruffling his hair before continuing, “Just promise to make me something to put on the fridge.”

Will giggled, his nose wrinkling up with a smile. It only took a few more minutes of back rubs before Will got lost in a forgotten coloring book that Nancy bought him during her journalism travels.

Mike watched for a moment, making sure Will didn’t secretly hate him.

“And the fourth?” Mike asked, looking towards Steve with watery eyes. He hated crying, but he especially hated crying in front of regressed Will– and yet, here he was. Eyes watering in fear, his little would hate him for the rest of his life if he scolded him.

“Accept,” Steve said, placing a firm hand on Mike’s shoulder. The raven-haired furrowed his brow, prompting Steve to continue his speech. “Accept the fact that tantrums happen, and he won’t hate you.”

“But Steve, the way he looked at me when I-”

“When you scolded him for snatching Ed’s crayon? Would you rather let him get into the habit of not sharing?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall, awaiting a response. “What? No, I-”

“It’s a part of being a caregiver. It took me a long time to get used to, but it’s just like picking up messes… or finishing half-eaten sandwiches.” Steve explained, “Will won’t hate you, and he’s definitely not gonna be scarred for life.”

That day, Mike had to admit, Steve was probably the best caregiver he knew.

“Mikey, look!” Will snapped his carer back to reality, excitedly showing him a page on his New York City-themed coloring book. Mike smiled at the sight of his little’s work, neat lines that no other little but Will could replicate. 

“It’s awesome, bud, can you draw me another?” 

Will nodded enthusiastically, getting back to work quickly. Tantrum now a thing of the past.

Mike blinked slowly, standing up and reaching for his laptop. Today, he’d finish his essay and compliment Will’s coloring.

Tomorrow, he’d scrape paint out of the carpet.

Because that’s what caregivers do.

It rung for a while, and Steve's leg was starting to shake with worry and impatience. It wasn't until the fourth ring, that he finally heard a click and Nancy's voice come in over the phone.

"Steve? You alright?" She asked, her voice already on edge.

"Nance, thank-" he stopped himself, before clearing his throat and speaking again. "Nance, can you come over and uh... watch your brother? They're all bickering and I need to watch the stove, but I need to watch them too because if I don't there's gonna be a broke-"

"Woah woah, slow down Steve. Of course I can come over, I'm not really doing anything right now. Want me to bring Jonathan?" She asked. Steve couldn't stop his sigh of relief.

"Honestly? That'd be perfect," He said as he continued to stir the milk.

"Alright, we're on our way. We'll be five minutes, think you can hold down the fort 'til then?"

Steve chuckled a little down the phone, holding it to his ear with his shoulder as he started to pour the milk into the mugs.

"Ha ha very funny," he sighed. "Just get here fast before your brother explodes."

He heard a quick tut on the phone before a click, prompting Steve to put the phone back on the wall.

"Steeeeeve," came a loud whine from the living room, and Steve had to pause his stirring to look through and see Dustin and Mike fighting over the Millenium Falcon, while Will was sat in the corner looking honestly like he was about to start crying. He quickly put his towel over his shoulder as he approached the doorway.

"Hey, hey, hey. We need to share our toys," Steve said, trying to put on his best stern voice. "Dustin, Mike, if you can't play nicely together, you need to play separately," he said as he approached the two boys, his eyes quickly flicking over to Will who was hugging his knees.

The two other boys crossed their arms and were refusing to look at each other. Steve let out another long sigh. "Look Nancy and Jonathan will be-"

He was interrupted by the sound of a doorbell. Saved by the bell... he thought to himself as he quickly ran to the door to open it, seeing a very cold Nancy and Jonathan at the doorstep. He quickly ushered them in, and as soon as Will saw Jonathan he quickly ran and hugged his brother's leg, starting to cry a little bit into his jeans.

Jonathan kneeled down, wrapping Will in his arms. "Oh Will..." he murmured as he stroked through his hair. "It's okay, come on... let's go and sit on the couch, yeah?" He said as he guided his little brother to the couch and wrapped him up in a warm blanket.

Nancy, meanwhile was looking at the two bickering regressors, and put her hands on her hips. "Okay you two, you've given Steve quite enough trouble for tonight. How about we settle down on the couch and watch a movie, and put all that bickering behind us, hm?"

Dustin and Mike both nodded quickly, and Dustin ran up to go and hug Nancy, which she quickly returned. Mike, meanwhile, turned back to Steve with a huge guilty look on his face. Steve saw his face scrunching up, threatening the beginning of tears. "M sorry Steve.." He mumbled through a shaky voice. Steve got down onto Mike's level. "It's okay Mikey, I know how tricky it can be for you sometimes. But I really appreciate you apologising. Do you wanna come sit with me while we watch a movie? There'll be hot chocolate," Steve offered and Mike nodded, wiping his eyes of any tears that had spilt over.

Jonathan, who had Will sitting on his lap wrapped in a blanket, looked over at the rest of them. "I think Will should get to pick the movie, don't you think?" A question which earned nods all around, although a reluctant one from the two other regressors.

"Which film do you want, Will?" He asked, to which Will whispered something in his ear. "The Last Unicorn? Good choice," he said as he got up and put the movie in the player, before sitting down back with his little brother.

Will settled into watching the movie instantly, and after a while Dustin and Mike did too (once bribed with hot chocolate). Steve noticed how intensely Mike was watching the film after a while, long after Dustin had fallen asleep and Will's eyes were drooping.

It wasn't easy having so many regressors around sometimes, but he knew then that he wouldn't trade it for all the money in the world.

Credits: + +