#wheelclair fic

Mike's glad Lucas can't see his mortified blushing face, even though he can picture clear in his mind, Lucas cackling evilly from across the large lawns that separate their houses. Since they've been friends, he's suffered from Lucas's incessant teasing, and it drives Mike up a wall, it truly does, but he's also high-key flattered by the attention. Not like he'll ever let Lucas know that. He'd never live it down.

Only two days have passed of Mike dealing with his extended family and he's ready to be fully committed to Pennhurst, his sanity rapidly decreasing by each second. First of all, his uncle, Ted's equally underwhelming twin brother, was the type of person that could talk forever and ever about nothing of substance at all. He just loved hearing himself talk, zero conversational skills so he pretty much talked at people instead of with them, and raised the worst kids on Earth. Yes, by kids, Mike means his snooty spoiled rich cousins prepped to whine about any and everything. The judgmental assholes, honestly.

The party thought Mike's got a mouth and attitude on him, but in his opinion, if his friends and obnoxious cousins were to meet, Mike wouldn't blame the party for physically boxing them. He'd rather encourage it. Sometimes violence serves the best humble lessons. Though it'd be a pretty shit fight considering the party's very unathletic and Mike's cousins would prefer death than to possibly ruin their expensive name brand clothes.

Karen had forced Mike to give up his room for Ted 2.0 (sorry he meant his uncle). He tried to take refuge in the basement, but earlier in the week Hawkins had a really bad rainstorm that flooded some of the lowest level of their house, the Wheeler's in the process of cleaning it up. Luckily, Will's drawings and the games (both video and board) were in mint condition. Basically, all those hiccups regulated Mike to camping out in the living room with his cousins while Nancy managed to barricade her door last minute and Holly was sick, her cold being contagious, making Karen quarantine her room.

So, yes, Mike got stuck mostly on slave... no wait... uh servant... nope... host! (there we go now) - he's stuck on host duty. Karen or Ted stayed ordering him to do this or that to make their guests more comfortable. Mike hated being the little runner boy, rarely getting a moment's rest as he had to; set up the dinner table, entertain his never pleased/perpetually unimpressed cousins, be available at beck and call. Ugh, he can't even get through to his parents on why it's totally unfair/cruel and unusual punishment/just bullshit.

"If you can host for Hellfire and your little friends, you should be able to do it for family, Michael."

And that right there is why Mike's sneaking out of his house, fleeing to the Sinclair's after everyone's gone to bed. His long limbs being put to good use as he climbs through Lucas's window.

"Welcome home, honey." Lucas playfully greets, laughing as Mike falls face first through the window. "This is like, your bazillioneth time coming over, and yet you still find new ways to trip on air."

Mike pins him with a deadly dark glare, lips pouty. "I'm not that clumsy. Plus, I think I overworked my muscles doing every chore in existence cuz company's visiting. I'm bone tired and weak."

"Geez, well then help yourself to my bed. I'm gonna finish up."

By that, Lucas meant his nightly exercises. Now that he's on the basketball team, he tries to maintain his physique despite it being their off season. He returns to his standard fifty pushups, sit-ups, and jumping jacks before Mike's graceless entrance interrupted him. Mike gets cozy on the mattress, sighing in content that he'd finally get proper sleep, completely fed up with unwanted visiting family members temporarily ruining his life. He glances at Lucas, admiring the way his friend always lets him crash the night if the Wheeler home was getting too unbearable.

"Thanks for doing this, by the way." Mike yawns, and Lucas pauses his movements to stare back with warmth in his eyes.

"No sweat, dude. It's just our thing."

"Yeah." Mike ignores the butterflies in his stomach. "It's our thing."

Like normal, Lucas would finish his exercises, take a shower, and casually hop into bed with Mike. Originally, when this routine of theirs started, Mike attempted to sleep on the floor, but after whining about the number it did on his back, and the brutal teasing of Erica implying that Mike snuck into Lucas's room at night only to leave out sore in the morning as if he's doing a walk-of-shame, both boys agreed Mike should sleep in the bed with Lucas. Just to avoid Mike's inevitable groaning and lamenting about an aching back, okay, not for whatever Erica was mischievously alluding to.

"Scoot over." Lucas nudges and a half-sleep Mike does so.

They fall asleep with ease, and maybe Mike sniffs the air more than he should because Lucas's bodywash smells addictingly amazing, and maybe Lucas throws an arm loosely around Mike's waist because well.... Honestly Lucas has no reason except because he wants to and he can and Mike lets him, so yeah.

When the sun rises, Mike begrudgingly leaves the comfort of Lucas's room and Lucas begrudgingly stays up to see Mike off.

"How long your uncle and cousins staying for?"

"Who knows. I turn into my dumb dad and tune out whatever they're saying. Hope it's soon, though." Mike's bedhead is sticking in all directions and Lucas refrains from messing with it. "I'll probably come stay over again tonight, if that's cool with you."

"Hey, man, my windows always open. It's cool." Lucas reassures, giving into temptation and smoothing Mike's hair a tad. "Swing by anytime."

Eventually, Ted's brother and kids left. Mike reclaimed his room. The basement was all fixed up after the flood for the party to resume business as usual. Then in the quiet of night, Mike would occasionally climb through Lucas's window seeking refuge and Lucas happily provided with open arms.

___

Lucas was always a lot nicer than Mike was, he thinks. Lucas doesn’t snap at people unless he has a good reason. He’s only got a bone to pick with people if they hurt someone he loves. Not like Mike, who gets angry at the people he cares about for no reason, uncompromising and mean even when he doesn’t mean to be, demanding that everything goes exactly his way.

Once, Lucas was Mike’s closest friend. Once, Mike would have reached for his walkie to radio Lucas, and they would look across at each other in their windows and talk late into the night.

Now, though, Mike lifts his fingers in response, and sends across his own tentative smile.

...

“Hey!” calls a voice behind Mike, who slams his locker shut and whips around. He didn’t sleep well last night, staring up at the ceiling with a pounding heart, mind all caught up in thoughts of what was and what might have been. It is only Lucas, leaning casually against the row of lockers in his crisp letterman jacket, grinning at Mike with that same easy smile he’s always had.

“Hi,” says Mike, grumpy, sudden butterflies in his stomach doing their damn best to flap all the way up his esophagus. He doesn’t look nearly as put together as Lucas does right now. The Hellfire t-shirt he’s wearing definitely needs a wash, and so do the jeans that he’s worn every day for the past two weeks.

“You want to come over to mine after school today and get started on this project?”

“Okay,” Mike says before he can fully think it over, but as he does he realizes he doesn’t really have an excuse not to. Corroded Coffin was supposed to get together and rehearse tonight, but Gareth’s home sick with a violent flu and Eddie called yesterday that he wasn’t going to be able to make the drive out from Indianapolis to visit like he had planned. “I was going to have rehearsal today, but I don’t anymore.”

“Corroded Coffin, right? That’s a sick name, man.”

“Oh, I, uh, I play guitar now.”

“Awesome,” Lucas says, and claps Mike on the shoulder. “I’m driving Erica home today, too, so let’s meet in the parking lot after class lets out. See you later!” and he strides off to whatever class he’s supposed to be at next period. 

Mike stands there, noise of the bustling hallway swelling around him. He can still feel the warmth of Lucas’s hand on his shoulder, an old and familiar touch. Mike’s not that touchy of a person. Most people, he’d snap at. 

Lucas isn’t most people.