pairings: mike wheeler x cheerleader!harrington!reader
summary: Mike stood trapped in the narrow space between a Centipede cabinet and the girl who felt like a different species, the distance between them had never felt more deafening. Mike was beginning to realize that the most dangerous game in the room wasn't on a screenâit was the quiet, terrifying glitch in the air every time Steveâs younger sister looked his way.
post contains: fem!reader, slow burn, yearning mike, down bad mike, nervous mike, basically canon mike, cupid in action.
authorâs note: i did NOT expect for the first part of this to blow up like hello ?? ik weâre grieving puppy mike just about right đ
đ
not proofread! criticism & feedback are appreciated!! part 3 will be posted soon
In the high school ecosystem, noticing someone new is like a âglitch in the Matrix.â Y/N has been at the top of the food chain so long that sheâs used to everyone being predictable. Suddenly, Mike Wheeler starts to look like the nonexistent insecurity in real life. He starts to show up out of nowhere. Heâs like the characters that suddenly shows up in the middle of a TV show even though theyâve always been there before.
In the hierarchy of Hawkins High, there were rules. You stayed in your lane, you wore the right shoes, and you never, ever looked too closely at the 'freaks' in the back of the cafeteria. As a Harrington, Y/N was the judge, not the contestant.
But lately, the contestants were acting... weird.
She feels a weird ping of guilt. She knows Mike. Sheâs seen him at her house, eating pizza and arguing with Steve about the "physics of fireballs." She knows heâs a "10/10" in the category of actually being a real person, even if his hair is a disaster and his jeans have a hole in the knee.
Itâs not that sheâs cocky of his attention. Oh, no, she gets that every day from everyone. Itâs not foreign to her, but how is it when oil meets water? They donât go with each other.
The day when Hawkins High won the basketball championship game made the shift. That was two months ago.
She started getting love letters from a new secret admirer. These dudes are lining up in a line they refuse to acknowledge. This one specific secret admirer is quite⌠polite.
âDid you try on a new bow today? It suits you.â
âCareful on that handstand. Still, it was incredible!â
âThe schoolâs chocolate puddings are probably expired. They taste like shit to me. Donât waste your taste on such things.â
Sheâs not pointing fingers, but something about Mike Wheeler tugging a string in her heart that she canât explain why.
Another thing is that Lucas is so noisy all of the sudden. Not only to her, but the rest of the ladies in the cheer squad. Heâs not flirting. Heâs just⌠inserting himself where he isnât usually is.
It started with Lucas Sinclair. Usually, the only time she saw him was when he was trailing behind Steve and Max like a lost puppy. But for three days, heâd been appearing in the gym hallway during cheer practice, 'practicing his pivots' in a way that looked suspicious.
Heâs never alone. His girlfriend seems to be the second piece of their secret observation.
She notices the couple lurking everywhere. They aren't being subtle. Lucas would âpracticing dribblingâ in hallways he has no reason to be in. Max would leaning against walls, staring intensely at every girl who carries the schoolâs name on their back.
She rarely talks to them because sheâs âUp Thereâ and they are âDown There.â To her, they are the ânuggetsâ Steve complains about. But now, she keeps catching them staring at her friend group.
They were searching for something. Or someone.
The cheer squad were sitting together. A few basketball guys sitting beside amongst the girls. What a dream, right? Basketball boyfriend and cheerleading girlfriend are the blueprint to high-school love.
âWhat do you think theyâre doing?â Heather, the co-captain of the cheerleading team said. âY/N, you know them, right? Do you know something?â
âKnow them? I barely talk with them. Theyâre always doing their own stuff,â Y/N poked her meal, unfazed. âNever dangerous, so I choose not to worry.â
Jason, who has his hand around Chrissy, suddenly jumps in. âI donât like how theyâre looking like they have the right to. I bet theyâre up to something.â
Y/N spoke again, her tone shifting into something more defensive. âDustin and Eddie? Iâd say so. But Lucas and Max always minded their own business. Donât talk about your friend like that, Jason.â
Chrissy was quiet the entire time. Her body growing tense under Jasonâs arm. Her eyes glanced up when Eddie was mentioned, but quickly looking back down at her meal.
âHey, he associates himself with those kids, Harrington.â
âAnd heâs triving! Theyâve known each other before they learned the alphabet!â
Heather puts an arm in between the two. She sensed that this would escalate to something bigger if one doesnât stop.
âHey, Jason, itâs none of your concern,â she then turned to her friend. âY/N, heâs just trying to play safe. April is next month. Maybe theyâre planning an prankâŚ?âHeatherâs unsure of her own words.
Jason pointed a finger at Heather, his arm tightened around Chrissy. âIt is my concern that theyâre eyeing my girlfriend!â
Every time Y/N caught their eye, theyâd scramble away. It made her skin itch. She looked over at Mike Wheelerâthe lanky, pale leader of their little band of misfitsâas he hurried past her friend, Heather, he didn't look up. He never did. But for a split second, Y/N wondered if the 'glitch' in her daily life had something to do with the boy who looked like he was constantly trying to vibrate out of existence.
For once, this is way tougher to figure out than algebra.
Right now, Mike has his arms crossed, tapping his foot against the gravel surface. In front of him, Lucas and Max has their head down in shame. This is insanely similar to when Steve is scolding them for destroying his precious deadly baseball bat.
Max is the first to speak, her voice still holds that guilt but slightly stubborn. âIâm just gathering data, Mike! Theyâre quite nice, okay? I saw Amy help a freshman with a jammed locker, and then I saw Tiffany cheer a nerd up from chemistry.â
âGathering data? You guys went full on monocle military-esque colors for field work!â
âMike, chill,â Max said, looking entirely too bored for someone who had just been caught 'spying' in the girl's locker room hallway. "Weâre being subtle.â
âSubtle?!â Mike waved a frantic hand toward the gym. âLucas, you were literally standing behind a potted plant. Youâre six feet tall! The plant is two feet tall! Estella looked right at you, and you started whistling!â
âI was blending in!â Lucas argued, whispering-yelling back. âIâm on the team! I have every right to be in the athletic wing. And for your information, she didn't just look at me. She smiled. It was a 'I know you're Mike's friend' smile. We're building rapport!â
âWe don't need rapport!â Mike groaned, stopping his pace to lean his forehead against the cool metal of a locker. âYou guys need invisibility. I told you guys about the... the girl... because I needed to vent. Not because I wanted a two-man search party investigating every pom-pom in the building.â
Lucas lowers his head down, lifting slightly to glance at his girlfriend. âI think theyâre onto us. I swear Heather looked at me today. Like, really looked at me. I think Iâm burned. I can't go back in there.â
âYeah, no shit. You streached on the bleachers, looking at the cheer squad who were doing Padahastasana with their backs facing you!â Mike runs a hand through his hair, his eyes shut in frustration and anxiety from the possibilities of humiliation.
âWhatâs that?â Max looks puzzled.
âBasically they had their asses in the air, and Lucas coincidentally was looking at the wrong time. He kept looking too.â
âI was looking at their heads in between their legs to see their faces!â
Max looks disgusted, her head snapping at him and grabs a piece of his hair and drags it back. Lucas yelps and clutches his head, muttering apologies repeatedly in desperation.
âSeriously, you guys should mind your own business. Itâs only bad that Iâm being secretive. This is the only chance I have to be close with her.â
Max lets go of Lucas, ignoring his whimpers and whining. She looks at Mike with a straight face. âIf anything, weâre trying to figure out your mysterious girl!â
âYeah, man. I can help, you know. Connections, remember?â Lucas said with a huff as he massages the stinging part of his head.
âBut I donât want that! I know I donât have a chance. I know Iâll be seen as Duckie from Pretty in Pink. I know I never get bitches other than girls who havenât experienced love because she was raised in an abusive lab. I know what Iâm facing, and Iâm perfectly fine with where I am,â he exhales heavily.
âThatâs because youâre scared of rejection, Mike! You say you know what youâre facing yet you donât back away. You still hope for the possibility of a positive outcome,â Max takes a step closer to the boy.
âI know you donât fall for assholes who care about their skin and hair. This girl has to be good for you in a way. She made you feel like life is worth chasing for. So, please, spare us for being curious friends who needs to find out on who this girl is because sheâs doing a great job at keeping you in place!â
She breathes heavily. Her chest is rising up and down. The abandoned playground is only filled with silences and the chirping of the birds in the sky.
Mike only looks at her, not knowing what to say as he glances behind her, asking Lucas for help through his eyes. They both gave each other the same intimidated eyes and chose not to say anything.
Mike pressed his lips shut before speaking in a quiet, scared voice. âAnd no, itâs not Amy, Tiffany, nor Heather.â
Max just curses and stomps the ground as she faces away from Mike, pacing and kicking rocks. Her boyfriend sighs and rests his hand in the pocket of his jacket. He starts walking to the young Wheeler and puts a hand on his shoulder.
His expression softened, just for a second. The teasing edge left his voice. âMike, this girl, sheâs not like Heather or Tiffany. Weâre sure of that. Sheâs... sheâs probably cool. Probably cooler than you.â
âExactly!â Mike threw his hands up. âThank you, Lucas! Thatâs my point! Sheâs too cool! So stop 'reconnoitering' before you blow the only thing I have left, which is the ability to walk past her without her thinking Iâm a total creep!â
âFine,â Lucas said, adjusting his backpack. âNo more spying. But we can't just leave it at 'Level 2' forever, Mike. So I did something. Something official.â
Mike freezes. âWhat did you do, Lucas?â
The cafeteria is buzzing with chatter and laughter from a table across. Yet, the table thatâs usually the loudest of all tables, is dead silent like a mime just died. No one dares to speak.
Perhaps itâs the stares from other nearby tables, or the inconsistent color amongst the table, but letâs address the pom pom in the room. Thereâs Y/N Harrington sitting in between the freaks.
Dustin is munching quietly, looking like he lost his appetite with a piece of pizza in his mouth. Eddie Munson is grinning like a shark, enjoying the chaos Mike looks like heâs trying to phase through the floor. Max is pretending to read a comic, but sheâs actually observing the table through her peripheral vision.
Lucas is sitting there looking proud of himself. In his head, heâs thinking: âSee? Iâm fixing the social divide! Iâm the Great Unifier!â
Lucas is the first to break the silence, coughing awkwardly before speaking with tight friendliness. âSo, Y/N... I was telling the guys how you're actually really cool for a cheerleader. Like, you don't even have that high-pitched laugh Heather has. Right, Max? Max and I were just talking about how 'different' you are.â
Y/N movements stops and glances towards him, looking puzzled. âIâm sorry?â
Max glared at him subtly, but just enough to make him notice and make his smile falter. Still, she plays the act and offers a smile thatâs incredibly smooth. âYeah, yeah! You know, I only appreciate the âGo Tigersâ thing because of you.â
Y/N just nods, a slight smile appears to seem polite. âThanks, Max.â
The tables goes silent again. The sound of pizza munches and fork being scraping on the tray are the only things that are saving the awkwardness.
Eddie doesn't know the secret, but heâs a professional chaos-maker.
He leans over the table, grinning like a shark. âWell, well. A Harrington in the Wild. Tell me, Y/N, does your brother know youâre consorting with the subterranean class? Or are you here to recruit us for the pyramid-formation?â
âI think Iâd have a hard time getting you into a skirt, Eddie. But Iâm mostly here because Lucas seemed like he had something on his mind. Heâs been following me around like a private investigator,â she settles her fork down on her tray. Her perfect posture seems like a threat than her name.
âCare to tell what issues you guys have with my team? As captain, Iâm here to settle every seed into its perspective pot.â
Mike finally looked up, and for a second, the lunchroom noise faded into a dull hum. Sheâs looking at him. Not like he was Steveâs âlittle nugget,â but like heâs a puzzle sheâs trying to solve.
âYou've been quiet, Mike,â she said, her voice soft enough that it didn't carry to the rest of the table. âYou okay? You look like you're seeing ghosts.â
He stutters, blinking nervously as he glances down the table. âJust not used to⌠this.â She just nods slowly, as if taking his words for a testimony.
âListen, weâre not doing anything. We just need to find someone right now. Itâd be awkward if we ask people one by one, so, we did it on our own,â Max cuts in. Lucas is just nodding rapidly.
âWell, you guys are creeping us out.â
âWeâre sorry, okay? Weâre not planning anything. I swear on Dustinâs mom,â she points at the said guy, who froze and looks puzzled.
âYou better not. Iâll tell Steve before you get to say excuses to him.â
The couple immediately shakes their head, stumbling with their words as they try to convince her.
Dustin couldnât take it anymore. He broke his silence and said with so much formality in his voice that he forgets that the girl heâs talking to is his babysitterâs younger sister.
âI still donât get it. Maybe itâs because Iâve been getting left out these past weeks,â his eyes glaring at a few people, clearly targeting. âBut trust me, weâd rather get up Steveâs hair than yours and your teamâs. You guys are just⌠not our taste.â
Y/N is taken back at this. Sheâs clearly not used to having her ego rejected like this. âWell, good! None of you are our taste, either!â Itâs like looking at Steve, but as a girl and younger.
Nobody notices the slouch in Mikeâs figure. Nobody notices how his shoulders went down immediately like jelly. That comment felt like a bad hair day.
Eddie suddenly cuts in, still chewing on his slice of pizza. âOkay, so, whatâs the deal here, anyway? Little Miss Glitter here is suddenly sitting with us like a virus.â
Lucas raises both hands to both sides, trying to prevent unnecessary tension. âHey, hey! Weâre here to make amends, not just talk.â
The rest of the Hellfire members are equally puzzled, saying âWe are?â in unison.
âLook, basically we arenât planning anything. We just hope that your⌠circle can be more gentler than they are.â
âGentler? You were being a creep the whole week!â she exclaims.
âLook, itâs a misunderstanding! We were just... scouting. For... spirit! We wanted to see if the cheer team wanted to collaborate on a... pep rally theme? Right, Max?â he looks at her to seek some help but heâs met with the similar look of desperation.
Y/N just raises an eyebrow. Sheâs a Harrington; she can smell a lie from a mile away. âA pep rally theme? Lucas, you were hiding behind a equipment rack for twenty minutes. Unless the theme is 'Espionage,' I'm not buying it.â
Mike felt like he was watching a slow-motion car crash, and he was the car. He looked at Lucas, pleading with his eyes for him to shut up, but Lucas was on a roll. Every 'explanation' Lucas gave made Mike look more like a weirdo by association. He caught a glimpse of Y/Nâs hand on the tableâher nails were painted a soft color of her favorite colorâand he felt a wave of nausea. She was here to defend her friends from 'creeps,' and he was the reason the creeps existed.
âIâm here because I like Steve, and I like you guys. But my girls are getting weirded out. Lucas, you were lurking by the equipment shed yesterday. Max, youâve been 'tying your shoe' outside our locker room for four days straight. If thereâs a prank coming, just tell me now so I can help you make it actually funny instead of just... unsettling.â
This just makes the Hellfire members even more confused. They feel left out and offended, especially Dustin. Theyâre not even a part of the duoâs creepy scheme but they somehow have to endure this? Unfair.
She had expected them to be mocking or defensive, but as she looked around the table, she saw genuine confusion on the faces of the rest of the Hellfire members. They clearly had no idea what their friends were up to. But Mike... Mike Wheeler looked like he was vibrating out of his skin. He hadn't said a word. He looked guilty. Not 'creepy' guilty, but 'Iâve made a terrible mistake' guilty. It piqued her curiosity more than the lie about the pep rally did.
Y/N decides to be the bigger person, but with a warning.
âOkay. I'll tell the girls it was a 'misunderstanding.' But if I see a Sinclair or a Mayfield within ten feet of our practice again without a valid reason, Iâm telling my brother. And you know Steve... heâs protective.â
She stands up from the table, taking her tray with her. Before she leaves, she looks directly at Mike. âYou should talk more, Wheeler. Your friends are doing a lot of the talking for you, and it's not working out in your favor.â
Her hand brushes against Mikeâs. He flinched like heâd been hit by a Level 10 Lightning Bolt. His face turned a shade of crimson that he didn't know was biologically possible for a human of his complexion.
As soon as she stands up and walks away, the tables erupts with fingers of accusations and confused murmurs.
Eddieâs eyes settles on the girl that just walked away, then he glances at Mike, who looks like heâs cornered by Vecna. Eddie leans in with his hands under his chin, a sinister smirk is plastered on his face. âWheeler. Start talking. Why is the Cheer Captain giving you 'the look' and why are our friends acting like private eyes?â
âYeah, Mike! If youâre involved in some secret mission, we want in! Or at least tell us so we don't look like idiots!â another member said.
Eddieâs eyes then darts between Lucas and Max. âIs there a rebellion in the ranks, Sinclair? Are you trying to defect to the athletic department? Because if you're looking for a pom-pom scholarship, I think your footwork needs help.â
Lucas is sweating. He realizes that âbringing Y/N to the tableâ didn't make them look cool; it made them look like theyâre on trial.
Dustin doesn't just âfeelâ something is wrong; he calculates it. You can have him list the evidence in his head like a mental chalkboard.
While Y/N was doing her "Captainâs Negotiation" at the table, Dustin wasnât entirely listening to the wordsâhe was watching the biometric feedback. He remembers the way Mikeâs pulse was visible in his neck. He remembers the way Mikeâs eyes shook and dilate when Y/N looked at him.
Dustin, tapping a pencil against his lips as heâs sitting on his desk, recalling the day when Y/N Harrington walked away from their table, her ponytail swaying with a rhythmic, infuriatingly organized grace.
He remembers every face on that table. How one was acared, confused, unbothered, and there was Mike. He was trying to merge with the structural atoms of his plastic chair.
âInteresting,â Dustin thinks. âVery interesting.â
That day where Y/N sat with the freaksâŚ
âHey, Dustin!â Lucas nudged him. âWasn't that cool? We totally smoothed things over with the squad. Weâre in the clear!â
Dustin took a long, slow sip of his milk, his eyes never saw how Mike was still staring at the spot where Y/N had been sitting as if her ghost was still there.
âYeah, Lucas,â Dustin said, his voice dropping into a low, mysterious tone. âTotally smoothed over. You guys are real James Bonds. Elite spies.â
âRight?!â Lucas grinned.
âBut,â Dustin added, leaning in closer. âJust a tip from a fellow intellectual. Next time you âscoutâ for a pep rally? Maybe donât do it behind a rack of volleyballs. You look like a periscope.â
Max frowned. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âIt means,â Dustin said, standing up and slinging his backpack over his shoulder, âthat the game you guys are playing is ass. Simply because Iâm the only one who doesnât the rules.â
He walked away, leaving a confused Lucas and Max behind, and a still-shaking Mike. Dustin didn't say a word to Mike. He didn't have to. The "Mastermind" will search for information now. And information is the most powerful thing in the world.
That same day, his room looks like you can find a fossilized sock, but to Dustin Henderson, it was a data stream. He sat at his desk, ostensibly picking the pepperoni off a slice of lukewarm pizza, but his eyes were closed, trying to recall every part of his day when he thought was boring.
He had a theory. Well, more than a theoryâhe had a Manifesto of Suspicion.
It had started small. A change in Mikeâs walking cadence. A sudden, suspicious spike in Mikeâs use of expensive deodorant. Then, the âLumaxâ anomaly. Lucas and Max, who usually treated the schoolâs social elite like a separate, boring species, had suddenly become obsessed with the gymnasium's perimeter.
Dustin had watched them from the shadows, squinting as Lucas tried to âblend inâ with a trophy case. Heâd watched Max âstudyâ on a bench that provided a direct line of sight to the cheer squadâs practice mats.
âSomething is rotten in the state of Hawkins,â Dustin thought, narrowing his eyes. âAnd it smells like Aqua Net and desperation.â
Dustin Henderson was a man of science, and science demanded an explanation for the "Wheeler Glitch."
For three weeks, Dustin had been tracking the anomalies. He sat at the lunch table, his eyes narrowed, watching Mike Wheeler stare at a slice of pizza with the intensity of a man staring into the void. Mike was vibrating. Not metaphoricallyâactually shaking. The day that Y/N sat down with the freaks made Mike Wheeler realized heâs an actual freak.
Theory One : The Soviet Connection.
It made sense. The suspicious whispering with Lucas and Max? The secret âreconnaissanceâ missions around the gym? Maybe Mike had found a spy in the faculty and was trying to handle it himself.
He sees how the three seems to find themselves comfortable to go at a specific hallway where it always smells like a jockâs armpit and a cheerleaderâs sweat mixed with lavender. Maybe the three are planning a revenge attack ever since Jasonâs buddies messed with Eddieâs trailer.
They wouldâve invited him to do so.
Theory Two : The Demogorgon Parasite.
Perhaps a piece of the Upside Down had hitched a ride back in Mikeâs sweater? It would explain the sweating, the social withdrawal, and why Mike suddenly smelled like an entire bottle of Drakkar Noir (presumably to mask the scent of inter-dimensional rot).
âHeâs found a new gate,â Dustin whispered to himself. âHeâs found a gate and heâs trying to hide it so we don't get in trouble with the government again. Heâs protecting us. What a hero.â
But he wouldâve said something by now. If he didnât, he wouldâve been stupid enough to give himself away.
Dustin groans in frustration, crossing the theory with a chalk.
Maybe Mike owed money to a local jock? Or worse, to Erica Sinclair? That would explain why Lucas and Max were âscoutingâ the hallwaysâthey were lookouts, watching for the muscle to come collect.
Maybe Mike sought help to the nicest cheerleader out there to help him out. Whoever it is, that person poured their heart out to the captain of the team. Theyâre creeped out by the coupleâs tactics. That wouldâve made sense.
Again, Karen Wheeler always hated Sundays because thatâs the day where her son bugs her for extra lunch money for the week.
âNo, Michael. I already gave you enough to buy a freaking arcade set!â
Mike gave his best, annoying puppy eyes. He whines and groans like a child being rejected for candy. âBut mom, you gave Nancy fifty and Holly a twenty!â
Theory Four : The Russian Spy ďżź
When no monsters appeared, Dustin moved on to political intrigue. This was the 80âs, after all.
Lucas and Max were âreconnoiteringâ the gym. Why the gym? The gym was near the boiler room. The boiler room had pipes. Pipes that led to the townâs infrastructure.
Lucas was using binoculars. Max was taking notes.
âTheyâve found a sleeper cell,â Dustin decided. âThe Russians have infiltrated the Hawkins High athletic department. Mike is the lead investigator, and heâs using Steve Harrington as a double agent. Itâs brilliant. Itâs like a Tom Clancy novel.â
Again, theyâre way to stupid to handle it on their own. Heâs not underestimating them, but he just knows them so well.
Dustinâs thinks about the messy chalkboard back in his room, full of frantic scribbles when the âAnomalyâ herself approached.
The Harringtons donât walk; they glide. She was the peak of Hawkins High social evolution, all high-waisted denim and a ponytail that moved with the precision of a Swiss watch.
Dustin looked at Mike, expecting to see the face of a boy being interrogated by a spy. Instead, he saw something much worse.
Mike wasn't looking at her eyes. He was looking at her hands. Then her hair. Then his feet. He looked like a man who had just seen the face of the dead and realized he was wearing his shirt inside out.
Steve is tossing the keys in his hands as he walk along side his sister towards the group in front of the building. His voice cutting through the night like a silver bell. "You okay, Mike? You're a little... pale."
Mike didn't answer. He just let out a small, pathetic squeakâa sound so high-pitched it probably shattered a window in the chemistry lab.
In that instant, Theory One, Two, Three, and Four crumbled into dust. Dustinâs brain performed a massive, high-speed recalculation.
The cologne. The gym-hallway detours. The way Mike had been asking Steve if 'good hair' was genetic. The way Lucas and Max were 'scouting' the cheerleaders not for secrets, but for a reason.
Dustinâs eyes went wide. He looked at the Cheer Captain. He looked at the Paladin. He looked at the social canyon between them that was currently being bridged by a shared fruit cup.
âItâs not a conspiracy,â Dustin whispered to himself, his heart skipping a beat. âItâs not the Soviets. Itâs not even a debt.â
He watched as Y/N gave Mike a tight smile, giving Mike a small, lingering smile that made Mike looks like heâd been hit by a tranquilizer dart.
âHoly Mother of Gygax,â Dustin thought. âHeâs not a spy. Heâs a romantic suicide mission.â
The Ending: The Mastermindâs Advantage
âDustin? You okay?â Max asked, poking his arm. âYouâve been zoning out for a long time.â
Dustin blinked, coming back to reality. He looked at the empty space where the Harringston had been, then at the Mikeâs shirt that used to be Mike Wheelerâs dignity.
âIâm better than okay, Max,â Dustin said, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face. âIâm a genius. Iâm the only person in this room who understands the true nature of reality.â
âPlease donât bring your bullshit into this nice night,â Erica says with a very judgmental look.
The group of teenagers starts following Steve inside the arcade. Y/N is much ahead than the rest of them, being closer to Steve.
Lucas leans over, looking proud. âSee? Y/N is chill. I told you Iâd fix the âcreepâ thing. She thinks weâre just enthusiastic about school spirit.â
Dustin looks at Lucas with genuine pity. âLucas, you are a beautiful, dim-witted butterfly. You wouldn't know school spirit if it bit you on the nose. But don't worry. The Mastermind is here now.â
Lucas just furrow his eyesbrows, glancing at Max for answers, but sheâs just as confused
Dustin leans over to whisper into Mikeâs ear as he passed.
âNice cologne, Wheeler. Does Steve know youâre trying to join the family, or should I tell him?â
Mikeâs eyes snapped open, a look of pure, unadulterated horror crossing his face. Dustin didn't wait for a response. He just whistles a cheery tune and walks faster towards Y/N, the secret humming in his pocket like a winning lottery ticket.
Dustin looks at Steveâs sister, then at Mike. Suddenly, the "Gold Dragon" code-talk from Lucas and Max makes sense. His eyes lit up like he discovered a time machine.
Dustin looks at Lucas and Max, who are still whispering their lies about pep rallies. He feels a sudden, overwhelming sense of intellectual superiority. Heâs the only one who actually understood the gravity of the situation.
Mike Wheeler hadn't just developed a crush. He had developed a crush on the sister of the man who carried a bat with nails in it. He had fallen for the girl who lived at the very top of the social food chain.
Dustin took a slow, deliberate bite of his chocolate bar. It tasted like victory. It tasted like leverage.
"Wheeler," Dustin thinks, a slow, predatory grin spreading across his face as he watches Mike try to act normal. "You are in so much trouble. And luckily for you... I'm the only one smart enough to navigate this minefield without getting us all blown to pieces."
Itâs not 'a' cheerleader. Itâs the cheerleader. Itâs the Harrington girl. Mike Wheeler is an absolute madman. Heâs trying to climb Mount Everest in flip-flops.
They all eventually got inside. The neon lights of the games seducing them to be played.
Dustin leans into Mikeâs personal space, the smell of Farrah Fawcett hairspray (borrowed from Steve) wafting off him.
"Don't look so pale, Wheeler," Dustin whispers, his grin wide enough to show off his happiest smile. "Iâm not going to tell Steve. Yet. But I think I deserve a little entertainment for my silence, don't you? Consider tonight a... collaborative effort."
Before Mike can respond, Dustin claps him on the backâhard enough to make him stumbleâand shouts, "Hey, Harringtons! Wait up! Mike was just telling me how he's a world-class champion at Galaga. Heâs practically begging for a challenger!"
Before they played, Dustin somehow convinces Steve that he need to go "supervise" Erica at the prize counter because "sheâs definitely going to steal something."
He then pulls Lucas and Max away, basically dragging them with him. âLook, guys, the Dragons Lair! Iâm telling you that machine doesnât want us to touch it,â he leaves Mike and Y/N standing in a narrow aisle. For a few minutes, they are in their own world.
âSo⌠do you guys come here often?â Y/N says, trying to break the tension.
Mike blinks, then shakes his head slightly, internally screaming at himself. âY-yeah? Yeah! Not that often, but often enough to know around. You know how high-school is, right?â
She just nods and looks around. Itâs been a long time since she had been to this place.
After a moment of silence, she tilts her head at a random direction, walking slowly to where her feet will take her. âIâll just go find Pac-Man⌠have fun?â
âYeah! Have fun, t-tooâŚâ Mike waves awkwardly. He then realizes that Pac-Man is literally the opposite of where sheâs going. Too late to speak.
Dustin watches from behind a Pac-Man machine, eating a bag of chips. âLook at him,â Dustin thinks. âHeâs actually doing it. Heâs talking to her without fainting. Iâm a genius. Iâm the Cupid of Hawkins.â
Everyone is busy doing their own thing. Lucas and Max are probably making out in the parking lot, Erica is swearing at a bunch of eight year olds for making her wait, and Steve is supervising but also canât help being frustrated with a bunch of eight year olds.
The three? Oh, theyâre busy alright.
Mike is playing something safe and solitaryâDig Dug, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Y/N is only ten feet away and âHellâ (Steve and his nailed baseball bat) is only twenty feet away. Suddenly, Dustin appears like a glitch in the system.
Dustin didnât just walk up; he inserted himself into the narrow space between Mikeâs machine and the next, leaning his elbow on the console.
âRough luck, Wheeler,â Dustin said, looking at Mikeâs dwindling life bar. âYouâre playing like a man with a guilty conscience. Or maybe you're just distracted?â
Dustin tilted his head toward Y/N, who is focused on her own game, her brow furrowed in concentration. Before Mike could hiss at him to shut up, Dustin rattles his empty coin cup. It is a hollow, accusing sound.
âIâm out. Bone dry. And since you forgot to tell me several important life updates recently, I think you owe me a 'friendship tax.' Hand over the pouch.â
Mike, wanting Dustin to go away as fast as possible, hands over a handful of tokens. But Dustin doesn't leave. Instead, he turns to Y/N.
âHey, Y/N!â Dustin called out, over the electronic screams of the arcade. âMike here was just complaining that this machine is rigged. He says no oneânot even a Harringtonâcan break the top five on Centipede.â
Y/N lets go of her joystick, her game ending with a sad bloop. She turned, a playful spark in her eyes. âRigged? Is that what he said?â
âIânoâDustin is exaggerating,â Mike stammers, his face heating up.
âHeâs being modest," Dustin lies smoothly, sliding a token into the Centipede slot before Mike could stop him. âHe actually bet me five bucks you couldn't beat his score. But since heâs out of tokens, and Iâm a benevolent god, Iâm donating my last few to the cause of proving him wrong. Mike, show her the 'expert' technique you were telling me about.â
Now, they are forced to share one machine. This is the âHeavenâ part Dustin plannedâphysical proximity.
Dustin stepped back, wearing a grin that was half-angelic, half-shark. He watched as Y/N stepped up to the machine, her shoulder inches from Mikeâs.
âGo on, Wheeler,â Y/N teases, nudging him with her elbow. âShow me the 'expert' moves. Or are you scared to lose to a girl in a denim jacket?â
Mikeâs hands are slick with sweat as he grabs the trackball. He can smell herâthat faint scent of vanilla and whatever hairspray the cheerleaders used. It was intoxicating and terrifying. For a moment, the arcade disappeared. It was just the glow of the screen, the roll of the ball, and the fact that Y/N was rooting for him to do well.
While they are playing, Dustin leans in close to Mikeâs ear, whispering while Y/N is distracted by the high-speed movement on the screen.
âSee? Iâm a genius,â Dustin whispered, his voice barely audible under the synth-pop music. âBut every genius needs a patron, Mike. If you want me to keep Steve busy at the air hockey table for the next twenty minutes, Iâm gonna need your pepperoni sticks from lunch tomorrow. And your seat by the window in Steveâs car. Deal?â
Mike didn't even look at him. He just nodded frantically, his eyes locked on the screen, terrified that if he stopped playing, she would walk away and the âHeavenâ would end.
They actually beat the high score together. Thereâs a high-fiveâthe first time their skin actually touches. It feels like a lightning bolt to Mike.
Lucas and Max emerge from the dark, looking a little disheveled and very out of the loop. They think theyâve been gone for ages, but in the fast-paced world of Dustinâs "Secret War," theyâve missed everything.
They spot Mike and Y/N at the Centipede machine. They see the physical proximityâthe shoulder brushing, the shared trackball
As the couple approaches to investigate, Dustin intercepts them like a bodyguard. He canât let them ruin the âHeavenâ heâs built for Mike, mostly because heâs still enjoying the âHellâ heâs putting Mike through.
âWhoa, whoa, Romeo and Juliet,â Dustin said, stepping into their path with two sodas heâd 'acquired' from the snack bar. âWhere have you two been? Scouting for more 'pep rally' locations in the dark?â
Max turned red. âShut up, Dustin. Whatâs going on? Why is she actually talking to him?â
Dustin leans back, looking incredibly smug. âWhat? Mike canât be friends with Steveâs younger sister? Iâm a professional. While you two were busy swapping spit, I was performing social surgery. I convinced her that Mike is a gaming prodigy. Now, if you go over there and say anything 'nerdy,' youâll blow the circuit. Stay. Here.â
Back at the machine, the tension is peaking. Y/N is actually having fun, and Mike is trying to remember how to breathe.
âWatch out! The spider!â Y/N yelled, her hand accidentally landing on top of Mikeâs on the trackball to jerk it to the left.
Mikeâs brain short-circuited. The spider on the screen died, but Mike felt like he was the one whoâd been zapped. He didn't pull his hand away. He couldn't. It was like his skin was glued to hers by pure, 1980s magnetism.
She realized it a second later. She didn't pull away immediately either. She looks at Mike, the neon green light of the screen reflecting in her eyes. âNice save, Wheeler,â she whispered.
From ten feet away, Dustin and the couple watched them. They saw the hand-touch. They saw the look. He leans over to a bewildered Lucas and Max. âSee that? Thatâs called a 'Critical Hit.' And I didn't even have to roll the dice.â
Just as the couple are about to say something brave, Erica wanders over with a bucket of tickets.
âWhy are they huddled over a mushroom-game like itâs the burning bush? I don't know what kind of weird 'Love Boat' episode you nerds are filming, but Steve is at the Air Hockey table and heâs asking why Mike is 'holding hands' with his sister. If I were you, Iâd start a distraction. Unless you want Mike to be buried in the parking lot.â
Dustin immediately pivots. He realizes âHeavenâ is about to turn into âTotal Warâ if Steve sees them.
âAbort! Abort!â Dustin hissed to Lumax. âLucas, go challenge Steve to a rematch. Max, go annoy him that the snack bar is giving out free refills. Iâll handle the lovebirds.â
Dustin sprinted back to the machine. âOkay, show's over, kids! Y/N, Steve is looking for youâsomething about a 'family emergency' involving a lost quarter. Mike, follow me. We need to go... uh... look at the new Street Fighter cabinet in the back. Now!â
Steve is leaning against his BMW, twirling his keys around his finger with the practiced nonchalance of a guy who knew he had the best car in the lot. He looks up as the group approached, his eyes instantly narrowing as he spotted Mike and Y/N walking a little too close for his comfort.
âAlright, Harrington, letâs go,â Steve called out, his voice dropping an octave into his 'protective brother' register. â I want you asleep by eleven, and I still have to drop these nuggets off. Which I want you all here to stay until I drop off princess over here,â he points towards everyone except his sister.
She slowed her pace, turning to Mike. The orange streetlights caught the gold in her hair, and for a second, the âLevel 2â friendship felt like it was crumbling.
âThanks for the help on Centipede, Mike,â she said. She didn't say 'Wheeler.' She said Mike. âI didn't think you had it in you to beat that high score.â
âI... yeah. Teamwork," Mike managed to say. His voice didn't crack, which he counted as a monumental victory. âWe should... do it again. Sometime.â
Before she could answer, Steve is there, sliding a heavy arm around her shoulders and pulling her toward the passenger side. He shot Mike a lookânot a mean one, but one that clearly communicate as if Mike committed a criminal offense.
âYeah, great teamwork, Mike,â Steve said, his grin a little too sharp. âMaybe next time you can help her with her chemistry homework instead of teaching her how to waste quarters. Get in the car, Y/N.â
Y/N rolled her eyes, but she gave Mike a small, lingering wave before the car door clicks shut. As the engine roared to life, Mike stands there, paralyzed, watching her silhouette through the glass until the taillights disappeared around the corner.
As soon as the BMW was out of sight, the âsafetyâ of the group vanished. Lucas and Max flanked Mike immediately, their faces a mix of shock and âwe need to talk.â
âOkay, spill it,â Max demanded, crossing her arms. âSince when do you and Y/N have 'teamwork'? And why was she looking at you like you just saved her life from a giant spider?â
âHe did!â Erica said loudly enough to make it sound argumentative.
âI... I don't know,â Mike stammered, his bravado disappearing. âDustin did it. He just... he pushed us together.â
Dustin was standing a few feet away, leaning against a lamp post, looking like a king surveyng his kingdom. He is tossing a single, leftover arcade token into the air and catching it with a snap.
âHeâs right,â Dustin said, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. âI performed a social miracle. I turned a 'Background Extra' into a 'Lead Protagonist' for approximately twelve minutes.â
Lucas looks between Mike and Dustin, his brow furrowed. âWait. Dustin, how long have you known? And why are you acting like a Bond villain?â
âLiterally two hours ago,â Dustin said, pushing off the lamp post and walking toward them. âAnd I'm acting like a villain because Mike here thought he could keep a secret from the Party's resident genius.â
He stopped in front of Mike, his grin turning sharp.
âHeaven was the hand-touch, Mike. That was a freebie,â Dustin whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear. âBut Hell? Hell starts tomorrow. Because now that I'm the official manager of this disaster, you're going to do exactly what I say. Starting with buying me a Double-Decker taco from Taco Bell on the way home.â
Mike looked at his friendsâthe confused ones and the one who currently owned his soulâand then back at the empty road where the Harringtons had gone. He felt terrified, exhausted, and more alive than heâd felt in years.
âFine,â Mike sighs. âBut if Steve Harrington kills me, I'm haunting your locker first, Henderson.â
âDeal,â Dustin chirps. âBut hey, Wheeler? Look at your hand. You're still shaking. Level 3 reached, buddy. Welcome to the game.â
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