#mike fluff

"You brought me to hell," Mike mutters.

Harvey adjusts his tie and smooths his coat. "Don't be dramatic, that's Louis' department. You're getting out. You're socializing. You're touching grass."

"This is a bar."

"Liquid grass." Harvey shrugs. "Close enough."

Mike glares. "You forced me. You practically dragged me."

"If I dragged you, you'd have scuffed those hideous shoes you insist on wearing. Now go inside."

Before Mike can argue, Harvey pushes the door open and ushers him in with a palm on his back.

And that's when Mike sees you.

___

You, behind the bar.

You're wiping down the counter with a rag casually slung over your shoulder, hair tied back in a way that looks like you did it without thinking but somehow looks perfect. Your expression is calm. focused. A little bored, maybe. Until you look up.

Your eyes meet Mike's for a single second.

Mike forgets everything. His name. Harvey's existence. The concept of breathing.

Harvey snaps his fingers next to his ear. "Mike? Are you concussed?"

"I... uh... what?"

"There it is," Harvey smirks. "The Mike Ross brain-crash."

"I don't- I wasn't- Shut up."

But Harvey has already caught it. He sees the way Mike's gaze gravitates back to you like you're magnetic. Supernova-level gravitational pull.

"Uh-huh," Harvey mutters. "This just got interesting."

Mike tries to compose himself, clear his throat, straighten his shirt- only for Harvey to swat his hands away.

"You look fine. No amount of grooming is going to fix the fact you look like a golden retriever who hasn't been brushed."

Mike groans. "I hate you."

"No, you don't. You're welcome. Now go sign in for your dates." Harvey gives him a shove toward the little table covered in name tags.

But Mike? Mike takes a half-step toward the bar instead.

Harvey grabs the back of his jacket. "You can flirt with the bartender after you suffer through your scheduled humiliation."

___

The First Few Dates

Mike sits down at a small two-person table. The place is littered with them. twinkle lights. Soft indie music. Buzzing chatter.

Date #1 sits down. Her name is Kayla. She's enthusiastic. Very enthusiastic.

"So my favorite hobby is making miniature historical dioramas out of recycled cardboard!"

Mike blinks. "That's... impressive."

"It's a very meditative craft," she says. "Last month I recreated the Battle of Hasting using only cereal boxes."

"That's- yeah. That's.. wow."

But his eyes drift behind her. To the bar. To you.

You're adding a garnish to a drink, lips slightly pursed in concentration, and Mike stares like he's trying to solve a physics equation by observation alone.

The bell rings. Date #1 rotates. Date #2 sits. She giggles before she even speaks.

"Oh my god, you're cute."

Mike forces a smile. "Thanks."

"I'm doing a juice cleanse right now, so I can't drink at all."

There is a long pause.

"...Cool."

"My friends say I'm a Scorpio sun with Taurus rising so I'm, like, complicated but loveable!"

Mike's brain is already drifting. You're laughing at something someone said at the other end of the bar. Your laugh is bright, warm- His chest actually warms in response.

Date #2: "Are you listening?"

Mike: "Yep! Taurus sun."

"-Taurus rising."

"Oh. Right."

He takes a long sip of water. He thinks about getting a real drink. He thinks about who would serve it to him.

Date #3 sits down. She talks too fast. Date #4 reads him her poetry.

Date #5 keeps playing with her hair and saying "You look nervous Mike. You don't have to be nervous around me."

Date #6 says, "I'm looking for someone financially stable and emotionally mature.'

Harvey, from across the room, sees Mike's dead expression and laughs into the rim of his whiskey glass.

___

Finally, he can't take it anymore.

He pushes back from Date #7 with a polite smile. "Uh, sorry, I- I just need another drink."

"Ooh, what are you having?"

"Whatever cures misery."

He walks away before she can answer. And he walks straight to you.

You greet him with that small, polite bartender smile.

"What can I get you?"

Mike opens his mouth- nothing comes out.

You tilt your head, waiting.

He blinks twice. "Uh... ginger ale."

You raise one brow. "You came all the way over here looking like you were contemplating the meaning of your whole life for a ginger ale?"

Mike flushes. "I... yeah, I guess."

You smile. Really smile, this time. "Okay. Ginger ale it is."

You pour it, sliding the glass toward him with an easy motion. Mike takes it like it's a blessing.

"You're new here, right?" you ask, wiping down a spill near your elbow. "I don't usually see you at these events."

"I'm being forced," he blurts.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, uh- my boss thinks I need to 'get out more', which is code for 'stop feeling sorry for myself.'"

"That's a very specific code."

"Yeah, Harvey's not subtle."

You laugh. It's like a small sun going off.

"So, how's it going?" you ask. "Meeting your future wife at table six?"

"Oh, absolutely not. I think table six wants to sacrifice me to her crystal collection."

You laugh. Mike grins like he's won gold.

You lean your elbows on the bar, interest in your gaze. "And you? What do you look for at a speed dating event?"

Mike nearly says you. His throat tightens. His brain tells him to play it cool.

"My standards are low tonight," he says instead. "I'll settle for someone who doesn't think Mercury being in retrograde is the cause of her car breaking down."

"Wow. Tough crowd."

"You have no idea."

He takes a sip of ginger ale, then glances at your nametag- only to realize you're not wearing one.

"I'm Mike," he offers.

You smile. "I know. They have your name on the sign-in sheet."

"I feel violated."

You laugh again. "I'm Y/N."

Mike repeats your name under his breath, like he's trying to memorize it.

___

While Mike sips his drink like it's liquid courage, you're mixing a cocktail for someone else when you say, offhand:

"I actually like working these events. Speed dating is basically inefficient data sorting in real time."

Mike freezes. He looks up sharply. "Inefficient... what now?"

You shrug casually. "It's like trying to run a matching algorithm with incomplete data sets. You can't optimize for compatibility if each unit only interacts for three minutes."

Mike's jaw drops. You're smart. Not 'I read my horoscope' smart. Not 'I like crime podcasts' smart.

Actually smart.

"You... like algorithms?" he asks, stunned.

"I was a math major," you say. "Well, technically applied mathematics."

Mike actually forgets to breathe.

You laugh at his expression. "What? You look like I just told you I juggle chainsaws."

"No, no, it's just- math? Really?"

"What, you think bartenders can't like math?"

"No! No, that's now what I- I mean, I love math. I competed in mathletes. I still read probability books for fun. I literally alphabetize my stress by calculating all possible outcomes until I have a crisis."

You stare at him. A slow smile spreads across your lips.

"That... actually makes sense for you," you say softly.

Mike melts.

___

Harvey appears behind Mike like a demon summoned upon his shoulder.

"What's going on here?" he asks, eyes flicking between the two of you.

"Harvey, this is-"

"Y/N," you fill in, giving a polite nod.

Harvey leans on the bar. "Pleasure. I'm Mike's babysitter."

Mike groans. "Can you please go away."

"Nope." Harvey takes a sip of Mike's ginger ale. "I'm supervising."

You give Mike a sympathetic look. "He treats you like you're twelve."

"He thinks I am."

"I don't think you are," Harvey replies. "I simply recognize that without adult supervision, you'd probably sign up for a pyramid scheme."

You cover your mouth, laughing quietly.

Harvey smirks at the sight. "Oh, so this is why he keeps coming back to the bar."

Mike's face goes red.

Harvey smirks in your direction, "he hasn't made it through a single full date without glancing in this direction."

You glance at Mike, soft amusement in your eyes. "Not even one?"

"No," Mike admits. "But I'm really enjoying this ginger ale."

"Uh-huh," you say, leaning your chin on your hand. "Totally the ginger ale."

Mike swallows.

Harvey claps him on the shoulder. "Alright, Romeo. Back to the tables. Don't worry, she'll still be here when you need another excuse."

Mike sighs. Deeply. He gives you an apologetic, reluctant smile.

You smile back. Warm and soft.

"Go," you murmur. "I'll be here."

___

Mike tries. He really does.

But every girl seems duller now. Not their fault- but they're not you.

Date #8 keeps calling him "Mikey." Date #9 asks him if he believes in soul vibrations. Date #10 says she only dates men over six feet tall- then awkwardly says "But I guess you have... other qualities?"

Mike just stands up and walks to the bar again.

Harvey doesn't even try to stop him this time.

You look up, trying not to laugh. "Emergency ginger ale?"

"Something stronger."

You bite your lip. "How strong?"

"Make me forget table ten.'

You grin and reach for the whiskey. As you pour, you ask, "So... do you actually want to meet someone tonight?"

Mike hesitates. His heart answers faster than his mouth.

"No," he admits softly. "I... don't think so. My boss just worries too much."

"About your social life?"

"About me," Mike says quietly. "Which is embarrassing."

You soften. "Does he have a good reason?"

Mike looks down at his hands. "I've had a rough year."

You nod slowly. You don't pry. You don't make assumptions. You just look at him with this gentle understanding in your eyes that makes Mike want to spill every secret he's ever had.

He clears his throat. "Anyway. He thought this would help."

"Has it?"

Mike meets your eyes. "Yeah," he says. "Actually."

You blink. "Oh?"

"Yeah." He smiles a small, crooked smile. "I met someone interesting."

You freeze for a moment, surprised. Then your lips curve in a slow, shy smile.

"Oh," you murmur. "Well... that's good."

Mike blushes and takes a sip of whiskey.

___

This continues. Date, bar. Date, bar. Date, bar.

Eventually, he stops pretending. He just sits at the bar for longer stretches while Harvey half-heartedly waves him back.

After his third whiskey, he leans on the counter, chin on his hand.

"Okay," he says, "tell me something nerdy."

You laugh. "Nerdy?"

"Yes. Impress me with your math powers."

You roll your eyes playfully, thinking. "Fine. You know the Collatz conjecture?"

Mike's eyes light up so brightly it's almost embarrassing. "Are- are you serious"

"Yeah."

"Nobody just brings that up in conversation."

"I do," you say. "If they're cute enough."

Mike nearly dies on the spot.

Harvey, across the room, sees this and shakes his head.

___

By the time the speed dating event is winding down, Mike is perched on a barstool like it's home. Half-tipsy, full smitten, cheeks flushed, eyes soft.

You're wiping down glasses, and he's watching you like you're the only real person in the room.

Harvey approaches, coat over his arm.

"Well," Harvey says, "you didn't meet your future wife, but you did meet your future restraining order."

Mike doesn't even react. He's still staring at you.

Harvey shakes his head. "Kid. You're pathetic. Let's go."

Mike finally looks away, reluctantly. "I- uh- I should go," he says to you.

You smile, leaning forward. "Come back sometime."

That one sentence hits him like a truck. He swallows. Smiles. Soft. Real. Nervous.

"I will."

He steps away. Then- he turns back. "One more thing," he says, voice quiet.

"Yeah?" you ask.

Mike's heart thunders. "I'm... really glad I came tonight."

You blink, shy but warm. "Me too."

___

Three days. It has been three full days since the speed dating fiasco, and Mike Ross has not stopped thinking about you for even a fraction of a second.

He's supposed to be working. Supposed to be drafting a contract. Supposed to be listening while Harvey explains a strategy.

But no.

His brain is doing exactly one thing: Replaying the way you said Come Back sometime like an invitation wrapped in a smile.

And it's destroying him.

Harvey notices around hour three of Mike staring blankly at a legal brief. "What's wrong with you?" Harvey snaps, snapping a pen cap loudly. Mike flinches. "Nothing."

"You're sighing like a window."

"I'm fine, Harvey."

"You're useless," Harvey decides. "Catatonic. Distracted. It's pathetic."

Mike slumps forward. "I'm not catatonic. I'm just- busy."

"You're thinking about the bartender."

Mike freezes. Harvey smirks.

"Oh god," Harvey says slowly. "You are."

"I'm not-"

"You're in love with a woman you spoke to for thirty minutes, Mike. This is new, even for you."

Mike covers his face with both hands. "Please stop talking."

Harvey stands, grabs his coat, and points at Mike with courtroom authority. "Get up."

Mike looks up. "What?"

"We're going."

"Where?"

Harvey smirks. "Where else? The bar."

Mike's brain crashes like a poorly coded app. "Absolutely not."

"Absolutely yes."

"No. No, Harvey. I'm not- I'm not ready! I don't even know what I'm going to say!"

"You're going to ask her out."

Mike makes a strangled noise. "I can't just- what if she's not even working today?"

"Then you buy a drink and cry in the corner while I make fun of you."

"That's not comforting."

"Wasn't meant to be."

Harvey snaps his fingers. "Let's go, Romeo."

___

Harvey walks confidently through the Manhattan streets. Mike trails behind like a terrified toddler.

"I'm sweating," Mike mutters. "I'm literally sweating. Is that normal? Am I having a heart attack?"

"Christ." Harvey doesn't even look at him. "Pull yourself together. You've almost been to prison, Mike. Prison."

"This is worse! What if she doesn't remember me?"

"She remembers you."

"You don't know that."

"You tried to tip all the money in your wallet. She remembers you."

Mike groans loudly. Harvey says nothing, because he knows the groan is acceptance.

___

When Harvey pushes open the door, the bar is quieter than the speed dating night- warm lighting, soft music, mostly regulars.

Mike steps inside and immediately feels his heart in his throat.

He spots you instantly.

You're behind the bar, hair swept back, reading something between orders. Calm. Pretty. Totally unaware that Mike Ross is currently dying.

Harvey elbows him forward. "Go."

"I can't."

"You will."

But Mike is frozen, staring.

You look up. Your eyes find him- and your face lights up with recognition.

Mike genuinely thinks his knees almost give out.

You grin. "Well, look who it is."

Mike lets out a small, pathetic, sigh.

You walk over, towel slung over your shoulder.

"Back for more ginger ale?" you tease.

Harvey lets out a laugh behind him.

Mike's brain sparks. "I- yes. No. I mean- maybe? I don't know. Um."

You laugh softly. "Don't worry. I make all the nervous ones ginger ale. House policy."

Mike wants to sink into the floor.

Harvey grins like a proud parent. "I'll be supervising from over there," he announces dramatically. He sits at a booth with the face of a man who is way too smug.

Mike whispers, "I hate him."

You smile. "You two are hilarious."

Mike beams tragically. "Yeah. Hilarious."

___

"So," you say warmly, leaning on the counter, "rough day?"

"No," Mike blurts. "I'm just here. Because. Things."

You blink.

He quickly clears his throat. "I mean- yeah. Rough day." He gestures vaguely. "Law stuff."

"Mhm," you hum, amused. "Well, I can make something stronger than ginger ale if today was that kind of day."

"Please don't, I can't embarrass myself in front of you again."

You smirk. "You weren't that embarrassing."

"I was very embarrassing."

"You were cute."

___

From across the room, Harvey whistles sharply. "Are you asking for her number or planning to die of cowardice?"

You look down at Mike with a raised brow. "Number?" you echo.

Mike gives Harvey a death glare. He turns back to you, panicked. "I- he- we-"

You laugh. "It's okay. You can breathe."

Mike tries to breathe. Tries again. Fails.

Harvey stands and starts walking toward you both, hands in pockets, smirking.

"Oh god," Mike whispers. "Abort. Abort."

Harvey arrives behind him. "So! Y/N, is it? Mike here has something to ask you."

"Harvey, I swear to-"

You look amused. "Yeah?"

Mike blinks rapidly. His brain is screaming. His heart is screaming louder. And then-

You lean forward slightly, eyes warm. "Let me guess," you say softly. "You came back because you wanted to see me again?"

Mike stops breathing.

Harvey's eyebrows shoot up.

Mike nods. Minutely. Honestly. "...Yeah," he whispers.

Your smile grows slowly. Genuine. You reach under the counter, grab a napkin, click a pen, and start writing.

Mike stares.

Then you slide the napkin over to him.

Your name. Your number. A tiny sketch of a math symbol beside it - a cute, nerdy little touch just for him.

"My number," you say. "Since you look like you're about to pass out if you try asking for it."

Mike stares at the napkin like it's a holy artifact. "I- really?"

"Really." You smile. "I was hoping you'd come back."

Mike makes a soft choking noise that Harvey will absolutely mock him for later.

Harvey claps him on the back. "See? Easy. Now say thank you like a human being."

Mike turns to you, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, voice soft: "Thank you. Seriously."

You grin. "Well. Now you have no excuse not to call."

"No excuse," Mike repeats. "None."

___

"So," Harvey starts, "are we done here? He got the number; he can go cry in his cubicle now."

You laugh. Mike groans, then stands, still staring at the napkin like it might disappear.

You lean forward, lowering your voice. "Call me tonight," you say. "If you want."

Mike's heart stops. "I want."

Harvey mutters, "Oh my god, he's whipped."

Mike doesn't deny it. He lets Harvey drag him out of the bar by the elbow, but he keeps looking back at you until the door closes.

___

The second the door shuts, Mike grabs Harvey's arm.

"She gave me her number."

"Yes."

"She gave me her number."

"I was there."

"Harvey. Harvey. Harvey. I like her. I like her."

"No shit. Congratulations on feeling basic human emotion."

Mike laughs helplessly. "I'm gonna call her."

"Good," Harvey says. "Because if I had to drag you back a third time, I'd bill you for emotional labor."

Mike shakes his head in disbelief, smiling so wide it hurts. "Harvey?"

"Yeah?"

"...Thank you."

Harvey grimaces. "Oh god. Don't get mushy on me."

But he doesn't walk away. He lets Mike have the moment.

___

Mike sits on the edge of his bed that night, staring at the napkin like it's a live grenade. He types your number in. Deletes it. Types it again. Deletes it.

Harvey calls him. "Did you do it?"

"No."

"Coward. Do it."

"I'm waiting for the perfect moment."

"It's nine-thirty at night. She's a bartender. She's awake."

Mike lies flat on his back. "I feel sick."

"Call her, you idiot." Harvey hangs up.

Mike stares at his phone. And then- finally- he presses call.

It rings once. Twice. Then:

"Mike?" Your voice. Soft. Warm. Very real.

Mike sits up too fast. "Hi!- I mean- Hi, yes this is Mike..."

You laugh gently. "I figured."

"I don't know if- I mean maybe- you were bust or- I don't know- sleeping or maybe you forgot who I was or- I-"

He hears you smiling. "Mike. Breathe."

He sucks in air. "Okay."

"So," you say, "I'm guessing you didn't call just to panic at me."

"No! I mean- yes- but no- I mean- I wanted to ask you something. If that's okay."

"I was hoping you would."

He closes his eyes. He is going to melt through the mattress. "Do you- um- want to have dinner with me? Like a real date?"

"I'd love to."

He freezes. "Yeah?"

"Yes."

Mike tries not to squeak. Fails miserably.

___

Four days later, Mike is standing outside the restaurant Harvey picked for him because:

"You have no taste. I'm not letting you take her to a diner, Mike" "It's a good diner!" "No."

So now Mike is in front of a chic, warm-lit restaurant that is far too nice for a first date. He's sweating. He's convinced that he tied his tie wrong. He thinks he might faint.

Then-

You arrive. And Mike forgets how to breathe entirely.

You look incredible. Not trying too hard. Not overdressed. Just... you. Warn, smiling, walking toward him like he's someone worth dressing up for.

"Hey," you say, shy but excited.

Mike makes a tiny noise that might be human. "Hi."

"You look nice," you smile.

"You- you look..." His voice breaks. He clears it. "You look beautiful."

You blush lightly. "That's sweet."

___

Once you're seated, something weird happens: Mike relaxes.

You're talking about math again- how you got into it, what fascinates you about patterns, why you still read academic journals 'for fun.'

Mike is wide-eyed, leaning, in, drinking in every word.

"Nobody ever wants to hear this stuff," you laugh softly. "I promise I'm not usually this nerdy."

"No," Mike says immediately. "Please. Keep going. I love it."

You blink. "You... love it?"

Mike blushes. "I love listening to you talk about things you care about."

You tuck hair behind your ear, suddenly a little shy.

The conversation flows like water. You ask about law school and he panics internally but smooths it over by talking about his photographic memory instead.

You say, "That's incredible."

He says, "you're incredible."

Then immediately wants to die because who says that aloud on a first date?

But you're smiling. Softly. Like you enjoyed hearing it.

___

Mike insists on walking you home. You protest. He protests harder.

So you walk side by side through the quiet evening streets, hands not touching but... close.

Dangerously close. Close enough that Mike keeps debating taking your hand. His heart says do it, but his brain says otherwise.

You glance over. "You okay? You're awfully quiet."

Mike swallows. "Just- thinking."

"About what?"

He looks at you. "...you."

You stop walking. He does too.

Your voice is soft. "Yeah?"

Mike nods. "I've been thinking about you since the moment I first saw you in the bar."

Your breath catches. "Mike..."

"I'm trying really hard not to be too much," he admits. "But I can't help liking you."

You step closer. "I like you too."

Mike's heart explodes.

You're standing close now. Too close for Mike to keep functioning. He looks at your lips for half a second- just a flicker- and you notice.

You whisper, "Mike..."

"Yeah?" His voice cracks.

"Can I kiss you?"

Mike nearly passes. He nods- too fast, too eager.

You step closer, one hand rising to his jaw, thumb brushing lightly along his cheek. He shivers. Then you kiss him. Soft. Warm. Slow. Gentle. Everything he wanted and didn't dare to hope for.

Your lips move against his and he sighs- a quiet, helpless sound- and kisses you back.

When you pull away, Mike looks stunned.

"Wow," he whispers.

You smile. "Yeah?"

"...Can- can we do that again?"

You laugh softly. "Come here."

___

This time, you kiss him deeper.

Mike's hands finally- finally- find your waist, fingers tentative at first, then firmer when you lean into him.

It's lush and slow and impossibly sweet. When you break apart again, Mike looks drunk.

You bite your lip. "Still okay?"

Mike nods vigorously. "More than okay."

You tug him gently toward the wall next to your building, pulling him closer by his tie.

Mike makes a soft, surprised noise- then melts into you. His hands slide up your back. Yours tangle in his hair. He kisses you like he's memorizing every possible angle, every breath, every small sound.

It's still sweet -- it's always going to be sweet with Mike- but there's heat now too, a growing, pulsing want.

When you finally break apart, both a little breathless, your foreheads rest together.

"Mike," you whisper, "you can kiss me again."

He laughs breathlessly. "You're going to kill me."

"Is that a no?"

"That's an-" Mike kisses you again, quick and warm. "-absolutely not."

You let out a breathy laugh against his lips.

___

Eventually - reluctantly - you both force yourselves to stop.

You pull him toward your apartment door. "This is me," you say softly.

Mike nods. He looks shy suddenly, fiddling with his tie like a teenager.

"I had a really good time," you smile.

He meets your eyes. "I had.. the best time."

You touch his chest lightly. "Call me tomorrow?"

Mike's voice comes out soft, sincere, a little breathless. "I'll call you the second I wake up."

You blush. "I'd like that."

He kisses you one more time - slow, tender - before stepping back. "Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Mike."

He walks away with a smile so ridiculously bright a stranger across the street actually turns to stare.

And Mike? He touches his lips the whole walk home like he can still feel you.

finally after what feels like hours, the bell rings and class is dismissed. you cheer internally as you swiftly turn to him, “let’s sneak out!” you whisper-yell as students start filtering out of the classroom.

mike looks at you with confusion, “why would we do that?” he asks, organizing his books in the order he brought them in. you look at him with disbelief, “the question should be why not? c’mon, now!”

you look at him with your sweet pout and your best doll face that you know gets him to do whatever you want. “this is exploitation.” mike says as he stands up, shaking his head.

“no, it’s not; you’re in love and can’t possibly say no to your amazing girlfriend, can you now?” you ask him with confidence and his cheeks heat up at the word love and girlfriend.

you’re not wrong, and that’s what makes mike blush like a tomato, is he that obvious? yes, he absolutely is.

you giggle as you walk out with your books to the lockers, not looking back as you know who’s about to run to you. “y/n! wait up!” knew it. you smile as you reach your locker.

to your luck, his locker is beside yours. “are you sure about this?” he asks nervously, arranging his books in the locker. you close your locker, “it’s fun to be troublesome sometimes, einstein.”

“i’m not einstein!” he exclaims and you nod, giving him whatever floats your boat look, “whatever. now, follow me as i guide you to bunking.”

after traversing as discreetly as you could through the basketball court, given how mike kept asking questions every two seconds, even as you told him to be quiet; then just barely jumping over the wall that made the premises of the school in time to not be seen by the principal, who rounds the campus at the start of fourth period like clockwork.

mike is literally, not literally but still, buzzing from anxiousness but also at the thrill of doing something he’s heard so many teenagers do. “let’s sit somewhere.”

you two go to a nearby park that is pretty empty, with only a few pedestrians littered around minding their own business. your hand stays in his as your fingers are intertwined.

mike’s cheeks tingle with warmth as his tummy does a sumorsault, your hand is warm and comforting, he loves the feeling of holding your hand.

you finally reach your favourite bench, the one that gets shade from the tree it sits under and the one that is almost hidden, as it is surrounded by trees on all sides.

he looks around, amused that a quiet place like this exists in the always bustling hawkins. it’s like an oasis in a desert, he remarks internally. and it’s hard to find, too. you could lots of things like— shut up, mike! he scolds himself at the thoughts that ran in his head.

you sit down along with him, “what do you think?” you ask, making vague hand gestures to add to the mystical atmosphere. “this place looks like it’s been cherry-picked from a fairytale.”

you hum approvingly, “it does! so, are you my prince, or not?” you tease him, because seeing him flustered is best sight ever, in your humble opinion.

mike flushes, ears pink, “i’m not brave nor do I have any qualities like that of a prince.” you squeeze his hand that’s still in yours, “yes, you’re a prince. you’re my prince,”

the my does things to his tummy that he can’t place a finger to. “and my prince is a shy, sweet nerd, for your kind information.” you continue and you two burst out laughing after, the kind of softness laced in your blended giggles that only teenage love has.

he nods, “noted, princess.” you smile softly at the addressed nickname, assuming that the feeling you feel is the butterflies that flutter in your tummy that every romance novel talks about.

you lean in without thinking twice, softly pressing your lips on his and he melts. your eyes flutter shut and the smile that is present on both your faces can be felt by the other.

the kiss feels like a dream, your lips are soft against his and mike can’t get enough of it. when you pull away, heart reluctant but body in need of oxygen, he has stars in his eyes.

“bunking is a lot of fun.” he says and you laugh, head dropping on his shoulder. “told you.” you murmur against his neck. he gasps faintly at the feeling of your breath ghosting the skin.

“we should do it more often.” he says and you look up at him, smug smile on your face, “you want to because it’s fun or because you want to kiss me again?” you ask, eyes shining under the sunlight that seeps in and shadows of the leaves are casted on your skin.

mike wants this moment to never end, and with a tone that can be described as truly lovesick due to a lack of a better word, he says— “option c, please. because i love both, but your kisses and you a bit more.”

𝓚𝑰𝑹𝑨'𝑺 𝙎𝒊𝙂𝓝𝘼𝙇 ( ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ) STOP WHY IS THIS A DREAM I WANT THIS SBBBBBBBBBBB HES SUCH A LOSER I LOVE LOSERS I LOVE MIKE NDKJNDDKOA ☆ LIKE + REBLOG = MWAH ♡

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The second you entered your house, your mom gawked at you with her hands on her hips. “Now what happened to you?”

You gave her an blank look. “What does it look like?” 

“Hey don’t give me sass, I was just asking. It’s not everyday your daughter comes home looking like she got caught in a rainstorm.” She paused and glanced out the window, “Especially on a sunny day.”

You shrugged, placing your bag on a chair. “Just this group of boys at school, they like picking on girls and I guess they decided it would be funny to throw a bucket of water on me today.” 

Your mom shook her head before pointing upstairs. “Change before you catch a cold.” 

-

A few days had passed since the water bucket accident and nothing else happened to you, despite your suspicions. 

Your mom shouted your name from the living room. “Come downstairs, there’s a boy here for you.” 

You frowned in confusion. You tended to keep to yourself in school, so you were unsure of who would be there. 

“Mom, I don’t know any..boy.” You trailed off as you saw who was at the door. Miche Zacharius. The rich kid in school, who simultaneously acted like a delinquent, standing in your doorway, flowers in hand and a cocky smile on his face. 

Your mom looked excitedly between the two of you before mumbling something about dirty dishes that needed to be washed.

You looked at Miche expectedly with your brow raised. “What do you want?” 

Miche’s confidence faltered for a moment, but only briefly. “I brought you flowers, I saw them and thought of you.” He placed them in your hands, stepping back towards the door. “I, uh, I hope you enjoy them.” 

He left without another word, leaving you standing in your living room, the flower stems dripping on the carpet and your mouth gaped open. You didn’t think Miche Zacharius of all people would be capable of being sweet. It felt strange. 

Your mom came back in and frowned at the sight. “What did you do to that poor boy?”

You grumbled as you walked by her to get to the stairs. “I guess it’s what I didn’t do.”

When you got to your room, you debated throwing the flowers in the trash but against your judgment you placed them in a vase on your windowsill. You couldn’t help but admire them, thinking about Miche. Somehow, he was simultaneously the most annoying person ever, but also incredibly thoughtful. One second you hated him, the next you were almost falling for him. And you didn’t like it. 

-

The next day you were sitting in English, you were in the left corner alone, while Miche was in the right with his friends. You could hear them cracking jokes and talking, just generally being loud and obnoxious. The kind of people you would avoid in school. 

Class droned on until the bell rang and it was time to go to math. You stood and adjusted your skirt before picking up your books and making your way to the door. Someone tapped on your shoulder and you glanced up, spotting Miche standing behind you with a book in hand. His friends were sort of fanned out behind him, watching the interaction closely. 

“Hey, darlin’ I found this book and I, uh, I thought you’d enjoy it.” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck almost sheepishly. 

You raised a brow at him, half expecting some bug to jump out once you grabbed it. He moved the book closer to you, encouraging you to grab it. You pulled it from his grip, still confused before mumbling out a thank you and turning to the exit. You didn’t stop walking until you made it to your next class. 

You couldn’t help but admire the cover, you were a sucker for a good book. You opened the cover and took a peek inside, flipping through the pages briefly. A small piece of paper fell out and you leaned down to pick it up. 

Meet me at the oak tree after school      - m 

You rolled your eyes at his attempt to prank you. You weren’t stupid enough to fall for his little tricks, he’d have to try harder than that. 

-

You walked out of school, head held high and completely avoiding the oak tree by the front of the school. Or at least trying to. You couldn’t help but sneak a quick glance, just to see if Miche actually meant what he wrote.

You paused at the sight ahead, Miche cooly leaning against a tree talking to some girl. She was laughing at something he said, brushing her hand against his shoulder. 

Huffing in frustration, you stomped your foot and walked away from the sight. What you didn’t see was Miche watching you as you left, sighing as your figure faded.

You went straight to your room when you got home and dropped the book on your desk. Pulling out a piece of paper, you wrote a note back to Miche. 

I’m not looking to waste my time.   – Reader 

You folded it carefully and placed it inside the book and closed it with a sigh. You thought that maybe Miche was going to be nice, maybe apologize for teasing and pranking you all these years. But apparently not, he was certainly the ringleader after all.

-

As you walked into English the next day, you wordlessly dropped the book onto Miche’s desk with a thud. His mouth fell open for a moment before staring at the book in confusion. His friends were snickering behind him, as Miche never faced such open hatred before. He thought he had your attention guaranteed, as smart as you were. He figured he’d be able to reel you in with a simple note in a book he knew you were eyeing for a while. This rejection honestly hurt.

It turns out you did spot him under that tree talking to a different girl, but it was an accident. She just happened to be talking to him when you passed, he didn’t think it was that big of a deal until he saw you rush off without looking back. It was a shame, he truly did want to apologize for how he acted. He had only done it because he wanted your attention. It was a childish method, yes, but it worked...he got your attention at least. Your affection was another story. 

Miche glanced at you every so often during class, but you wouldn’t so much as remove your eyes from the board. He inwardly groaned at that, frustrated with being unable to gain your attention. If he could just meet your eyes for one second, he could get another chance. 

Instead, he put his chin on his palm and opened the book. He absentmindedly flipped through the pages, looking for anything to do but listen to the teachers lectures. As he was going through it, a small white paper stuck out. He frowned, he was sure you saw his note; you had to have, you stopped by the tree. He glanced up for a moment before unfolding it, his frown furrowing deeper as he read what was written. 

He threw it on the desk and leaned back, crossing his arms. This was going to be more difficult than he thought. You were stubborn, that’s for sure, but something about that drew him in. Miche picked up his pen, thinking for a moment. He flipped your note over and began writing again. 

The bell rang and everyone stood. You were leaning down, putting your stuff away in your bag when a bang echoed right by your head. You shot up, frowning as you watched Miche walk away and the book sitting on your desk again. 

You debated leaving the book or throwing it in the trash, but you just figured Miche didn’t know how to read so you gave him the benefit of the doubt and placed it in your bag. 

-

By the time you got home, the book and Miche had been long forgotten. You’d been outside enjoying the sunshine in the garden, finding relaxation in the earthy smell. 

The gate creaked and you glanced up, assuming it was your mother. 

“Miche? What are you doing in my backyard?” 

“I thought you read my note.” He gave you a confused look. 

“Note?” You frowned, thinking back to the end of class. “I didn’t think there was a note, I thought you just gave me the book back.” 

Miche chuckled, “I saw your note and I wrote one back to you.” 

You stood and dusted off your hands. “Well now you’re here.” 

“I figured we could talk,” Miche shrugged. 

“How’d you even get back here? I’m fairly sure my mother wouldn’t let some random boy into our house.” You asked, brow furrowed. 

Miche grinned, his hands clasped behind his back. “I guess I just have a certain charm...Oh and these.” He held out another bouquet of flowers. “I thought the other ones would be dying soon so I got you these.” 

You couldn’t help the small smile that found its way onto your face. “Oh, um, thank you.” 

Miche nodded before taking a seat on the swing you had out back, he gestured for you to join him. Hesitantly, you sat next to him, making sure to keep distance between the two of you. 

“I’d like to apologize, I realize that I was being immature all those times I teased you or dumped water on you...even though it was funny.” 

You gave him a bored expression, to which he rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. “Anyway. I just wanted to apologize for that since I couldn’t the other day.” 

“To be fair, you were talking to another girl. I couldn’t just walk up to you then.” You rolled your eyes. 

Miche smirked, cocky attitude returning. “Oh really?” 

“Oh stop it,” you rolled your eyes. “Just ‘cause you apologized doesn’t mean anything changed.”

“I guess I could just dump more water on you,” Miche shrugged. “It’s your call.”

You only laughed and shook your head, both of you spending the afternoon talking instead of arguing for what felt like the first time ever. 

-

Weeks went by and Miche stuck to his word, him and his friends didn’t prank you or even attempt to. It honestly felt weird, but you weren’t complaining. 

You heard a whistle, gaining your attention. Sitting in the corner of the library, Miche was waving you over. You shook your head with a smile and gathered your things. “Yes?” You asked expectantly, but amused. 

“I have another book for you,” he pulled out a copy of Catch-22. “I don’t wanna read it, but you probably would.”

You laughed quietly, taking it from his hand. “I see. Sometimes I wonder if you even know how to read.”

Miche’s friends erupted into laughter while he gaped at you for a second. He quickly recovered, brushing off the joke with a grin. He stood and put his arm around your shoulder, directing you away from his friends as you walked. 

“You may want to read this one soon and carefully too.” 

You looked at him unimpressed. “And why is that? Is this another one of your-”

“Nope!” Miche interrupted, “it’s just a thought.”

“Hm. I’ll consider it,” you said with a smile. 

The bell rang soon after that and you went to your next class - boring chemistry - and so you skimmed the first few lines. Little did you know that there was yet another note wedged into the pages. When you lifted the book, it fluttered down and onto your desk. 

Meet me by the tree...again? - m 

You chuckled softly, getting a sense of deja vu. Pocketing the note, you impatiently waited for school to end so you could hear what Miche had to say. 

As you walked to the tree, you hugged your books to your chest and thought about how this situation had progressed. At first, you were annoyed and completely uninterested in this boy. But now, after a book and some flowers, you’re meeting him under a tree, for a second attempt, to talk about who knows what. 

You shook any doubts from your head as you got closer, noticing Miche leaning against it and staring off down the road where everyone else was leaving. The fallen leaves crunching under your feet gained his attention as he turned to you with a smile. 

“Hey!” Miche pushed himself off the tree and walked towards you, pulling a flower out of nowhere and handing it to you. “I got this for you.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled quietly, suddenly feeling shy. “I got your note.”

“I can see that,” Miche said excitedly, “I’m glad you saw it. I have something I wanna ask you.” 

Miche chuckled quietly at the look you gave him before continuing, “I know I was kind of a jerk in the beginning, but I was wondering if you…you’d like to be my girl?” His face was bright red and you were pretty sure yours looked the same. “You don’t even have to do anything, I can just buy you nice things and you can keep me company.” 

You gave him a small smile as you peered up at him shyly and nodded. Miche cheered and pulled you into an unexpected hug, your face pressed into his shoulder warmly. 

He pulled back with a bright smile, his hands on your shoulders. “Honestly I’m surprised you even said yes.”

You giggled and shook your head as you smiled at each other. 

-

“How’re you doing today, darlin’?” Miche asked, kissing you on the cheek and passing you a flower. Which has now become a sort of tradition for you. He brings you flowers every time he sees you. You both had begun dating a few months prior, a few weeks after you met under the tree. 

“Hi there,” you smiled, pulling him into a tight hug. He was sweet, quite the contrast to when you first met him. You were happy together, it was nice. 

you were laying next to mike on your bed, when an idea popped into your head, mike was focused on his phone when who climbed into his lap and kissed his cheek, his attention was on you now

"mike, you know" you said staring down at him "ive wanted a cat for a while, we should get one" you stared down at him, a hopeful look on your face, how could he say no?

"i mean.. we COULD get one" the moment you heard him say that, you got off his lap, jumping up and down

"IM GONNA GO GET READY!!" you said, a huge smile on your face, mike stared at you, almost admiring you

you both got into the car, driving to a random animal shelter near by, you left the car, going inside the animal shelter, you were immediatley greeted with cats and other animals scattered around the shelter

as you walked deeper inside, you stopped for a bit, playing with the cats, until a tiny orange cat caught your eye

a energetic and playfull kitten, "mike come look"

mike walked over to where you were "what is it?" he said, confused "we should get this one" you said carrying the cat ,standing up with it in your hands

you got the cat, and you both left the building happy, once you got home, you immediatley let the cat out of the cage, you notiecd it exploring the new enviroment,

you looked at mike and tols him to"give it a name" "me? how about.. just cheese" he said giggling, it was obviously a joke but you thought the name was cute, especially since the cat did look like a block of orange cheese

after a few days, the cat got used to you and mikes house, it was running around, scratchinf the doors, and climbing onto the kitchen counters when mike caught it "oh no no no buddy" he said as he held the catx lifting it off the counter "you stay down here" he said, dropping 'cheese' back onto the floor, he then noticed one of its cat toys on the ground, he picked it up, it was a little ball that made noise, he threw it across the room, cheese soon chasing after it trying to catch it.

also the exact same day, you and mike were sleeping when cheese climbed onto your bed, you woke up to drink some water ,then you felt pressure on your chest you looked over and thats when you noticed cheese sleeping, curled up in a ball near your neck.

you whisper-shouted "mike! help!"

mike woke up "whats wrong" he said in a sleepy voice, obviously annoyed because you chose to wake him up in the middle of the night