#hannely

“Maybe,” Mike shifts, and then there’s a weight pulling her down. He’s sitting.

El lets him tug her to the floor. She sits beside him; backs against the wall, breathing still a little rushed from when they’d run from Dustin earlier.

“Floor is cold,” El observes casually.

“Sorry,” Mike says, even though it’s not his fault.

El pokes his side, which makes him hiss with a barely suppressed yelp. “Can I sit on your lap?”

Mike swallows. “My lap?”

“Your legs,” El pokes him again, this time square in the chest. “I’m using the right word, aren’t I?”

“Um.”

“Mike?”

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m totally great.”

El bites her tongue. “Can I have your sweater?”

“My sweater?”

“Mike.”

All the sudden, he laughs. It’s the best sound; it makes her chest explode with all of this feeling, all this good. “Sorry, I’m just… yeah, hold on.”

Within seconds, there’s the faint sound of static as he seperates his sweater from his shirt and hands her the thick material. El pulls it over her head; it’s long enough that it reaches her mid thighs, which solves one problem.

“Thank you.”

El reaches for him, uncertainty laying a hand on his… ribcage? Definitely his ribs. Her hand travels higher, never breaking contact, to his shoulder. Then his neck.

“What’re you doing?”

He sounds bemused. It’s weird, the way she knows exactly how he looks without having to see his face; lips curled up, nose wrinkled, cheeks flushed.

“I’m trying to find your cheek.”

“Higher,” he says, laughter edging in his voice.

“Here?”

“Ah! That’s my eye!”

“Shh!”

El giggles as quietly as possible, fingers brushing his cheek. Then, hesitantly, she leans up and kisses it.

“Maybe move a little to the left,” Mike suggests.

Her lips gingerly touch his nose.

“Lower?”

His chin.

Mike groans. “You’re really gonna make me ask, huh?”

“Maybe,” El grins.

Mike is silent for a second, like he’s debating whether or not it’s worth it. Then, after a sigh, “Kiss me? On the lips?”

Her lips crash onto his; messily, eagerly. He’s pushed against the back wall. Mike makes some muffled surprised sound.

“Sorry,” El breathes.

“What? Why? No way, come back.”

She does. This time, it’s better. Even still, it ends up with him grinning and her laughing, for whatever reason.

“You guys, I heard something!”

They both freeze at the sound of Dustin’s voice. The light to the basement flicks on, seeping through the crack below the door. It illuminates half of Mike’s face. His eyes are wide with terror.

The doorknob jiggles, but the door won’t open.

Mike frowns. “I didn’t lock it. Did you?”

“Not when we came in,” El wipes her nose, mostly out of habit. There’s not much blood there at all.

A hand slams against the wood. “I know you guys are in there! You’re so it! GUYS! THEY’RE DOWN HERE!”

“Think I should let him in?”

“Probably…”

El shrugs. “He can wait a minute.”

When El awakes on a warm June morning and looks out her bedroom window to see a stranger pulling weeds out on the front lawn, she’s alarmed at first. Mainly because it’s a stranger, she’s still in her pajamas, and she hates when her dad invites his work friends over without telling her.

Then she realizes that a) if it was one of her dad’s friends, they wouldn’t be pulling weeds, b) this guy looks way too young to be any friend of her dad’s, and c) from what she can see out her window, he’s attractive.

Like, super attractive.

Anxious to know more (and maybe get a closer look), El throws on her robe and runs downstairs. Hopper and Will are in the kitchen drinking coffee and chatting about Will’s upcoming art camp when El slides in.

“Look who finally decided to wake up,” Hopper smiles.

“Only took her ‘til noon,” Will teases.

Both guys are seated at stools at the kitchen island, examining the packing list that Will’s already gone over a million times (“I just want to make sure I don’t forget anything,” Will always defends).

“11:30 is not noon!” El huffs.

“It may as well be,” Hopper snorts, “Your mom’s already left for work.”

Even though their family has plenty of money, Joyce still insists on working her old job at Melvald’s. She claims that it keeps her from going stir-crazy and that if she quit, Donald wouldn’t know his lefts from his rights anymore.

“Sorry,” El replies, though she’s pretty sure her dad isn’t actually upset with her for sleeping in.

Hopper and Will redirect their attention back to the packing list (“Did you pack gouache? What the hell is gouache?” “It’s like paint.” “Then why didn’t they just write ‘paint?’”) as El casually makes her way over to the window overlooking the front yard. The boy is still out there using gardening tools to pull up thick weeds with wiry bristles and bulbous roots.

His hair is a dark black, but in the afternoon sun it glows with hints of brown. It’s messy and wavy and curling in corkscrews in some odd places. He’s not very muscular, but despite his lanky form, El can still see the faint strain of his body working to pull up some of the more resistant weeds.

He stops to wipe sweat off his brow with a hand that’s covered in a floral gardening glove, and it’s in that moment that El decides he is properly beautiful.

“Who’s that outside?” El asks as she moves back into the kitchen, hoping she sounds nonchalant.

“That’s Mike Wheeler,” Will answers, checking off ‘gouache’ from his list, “He’s one of my friends from school.”

“What’s he doing here?”

“I hired him to clean the place up a little,” Hopper explains, “He’s gonna be working around the house for the summer.”

“All summer?” El asks, failing to hide the hopeful lift to her tone.

“Yup,” Hopper nods, taking another sip of his coffee, “During the weekdays. To be honest, I was kind of hesitant about hiring some kid, but your brother vouched for him, so —”

“He really wanted a summer job,” Will cuts in, “And he’s a really hard worker.”

“He better be, for what I’m paying him,” Hopper grumbles.

Will gives Hopper a light nudge before turning back to El. “You’ll like him,” he says, “He’s really nice. It sucks that I won’t even get to see him though, since I’m leaving tomorrow...”

El gives her brother an empathetic pout. Will signed up to go to a sleepaway art camp over the summer — while their programs are really good and she’s happy her brother got in, the idea of spending the first half of the summer without him really blows.

“Well, it’s only upstate,” Hopper reminds him, “And only for one month. You should be able to spend some time with him before school starts up again.”

“It’s one and a half months,” Will points out.

Hopper gives him a dry look in response.

El sighs and goes to stand behind Will. She drops her chin on his shoulder and pouts a little more. “Mom and Dad are going to be at work, you’re going to be gone, I’m going to be all alone,” she laments.

“What about Max?” Will counters.

“She’s spending the summer with her dad in California,” El replies.

“Well,” Will replies after a moment, “I’m sure you’ll find something to do. Mike will be here.”

At this, El feels her stomach drop and her face flush. She hadn’t even considered that.

One-and-a-half months of her and Mike spending almost every day together? Completely alone, unsupervised?