Work Text:
Mike is shaking when Lucas finds him on the floor of his destroyed house. It’s been almost a week since the attack, but the puddle of blood on the Wheelers’ kitchen floor was so thick that some of it was still wet. Mike was on his hands and knees, blood staining his cargos and splattered across his arms as he desperately wiped away the blood from the floor, ending up just smearing it across the tile.
His whole body shook as he did, and Lucas couldn’t help but stare at him, his house was utterly wrecked, his wall was burned where a portal had opened up, boards were ripped from the walls and his carpets were shredded, the kitchen light had burst, and the whole thing was splattered with blood and dried chunks of flesh. Lucas knew it was Mrs. Wheeler’s, who was still in the hospital.
The issue was that Holly was getting discharged today. She had mainly been there for evaluations to make sure she was fine, and she had been, much to the relief of the Wheeler siblings, who had taken the brunt of the attacks. Holly managed to escape the whole ordeal with minor scrapes and bruises. Mike had left the situation with a large gash on his rib cage that Lucas could tell was bleeding from the way blood pooled on his blue sweater.
“Mike,” he said softly. He knew why they had sent him here. Even though they all thought El was still his girlfriend, they knew the only person who could snap him out of his funk was Lucas. It’s always been Lucas.
“Mike,” he said again, louder, when he didn’t stop scrubbing the floor, breathing coming out ragged. Lucas took a step closer, floorboard creaking under his foot, and Mike snapped up, whipping around and pointing his stupid flare gun at Lucas, eyes wild.
“Fuck,” he cursed softly, dropping his arm to the ground, landing right in a mess of blood. He just stared at it. Lucas kneeled in front of him, not caring if he got blood on his pants or scraps of skin on his shoes.
“Mike,” he pushed him softly, manhandling him closer to him, one hand on his neck to control where he looked, the other on his waist to keep him still. “Look at me.”
Lucas had to force it, but eventually he looked at him, he wasn’t all there, he was looking at Lucas like he could see right through him, and he hated it. Hated seeing him like this, so lost and hurt, and he wonders if there’s anything he can do this time.
“Tell me, what are you doing?” He tightens his grip on Mike’s neck so it’ll hurt, because as much as he hates it, pain is the only thing that makes Mike Wheeler feel real these days. He can see his cloudy eyes begin to clear like a stormy day making way for a rainbow, and he finds himself hopeful that maybe he can pull Mike back from whatever cliff he’s standing on in his head.
“The house…” Mike says slowly, sounding almost drunk, “It's dirty. It needs to be clean.”
“Why?” He asks even though he knows the answer. “Why does it need to be clean?”
“Holly. Holly can’t see it like this, she’ll freak out, she’ll get upset—“
“You are upset, Mike.”
“What?” He asks, looking genuinely confused. “No I’m not.”
Lucas wipes his hand across his face, bringing wet, hot tears with it, before showing the slick on his hand to Mike. “You haven’t stopped crying since I got here.”
Mike’s eyes trail to the blood again, to where his mother had almost died, to where Holly had been taken, to where his dad had really been thrown into a wall and killed by a monster that doesn’t even exist anymore—just labeled a burglary.
Many people who knew Mike might not say he loved his family. But Lucas had known Mike his entire life. He knows he used to follow his dad sound like a puppy dog, tried baseball and soccer, and even basketball when he was smaller than every kid in their grade just to impress him, but it had never lasted long, his dad always knew what he was, that he wasn’t the son he wanted.
He treated his mom like she was his entire world when he was a kid, she was overbearing and protective to a fault, while somehow also being painfully oblivious, but Mike loved going on errands with her just to annoy her, bursting into song in her car and screaming along the words to all the oldies she had introduced him to.
Nancy was his biggest inspiration, even if he would never admit it. He had always admired her, admired that she always knew what she wanted and would do anything to get it, Nancy was driven to change the hand that the world had dealt her, to break free from her sad little suburban girl stereotype, Mike had always loved that about her. She was the coolest person he knew, superpowers or not.
Mike had hated the idea of being a big brother at first, but the second he held Holly in his arms it was like he was born for it. He would ask to hold her and feed her and take care of her, he would play with her like she was his age, sitting baby Holly in his lap while he did campaigns when his mom was busy, read her bedtime stories when his mom got wine drunk and passed out on the couch. Holly thought Mike was the coolest, bravest person she had ever known and wasn’t afraid to admit it.
Mike loves his family, even if he’s snappy and rude, he never means it how he knows he can sound, he’ll always be there. He’ll come home from hanging out with his family if Holly is crying and the only thing that can calm her is her big brother.
So when Mike looks down at the blood of his mom on his childhood homes kitchen floor, eyes welling up with tears, Lucas pulls his face away forcefully, shoving his head into the bend of his neck so he doesn’t have to see, so the tears don’t spill on to the tile but instead on to his collarbones, where they’ll seep into his skin and he can keep them safe.
Mike wiggles like he wants to escape his hold, hands still gripping the filthy towel in his hands, blood soaking into every crack and crevice in his dry skin, staining his nails and cuffs of his sweater.
“I need to clean. For Holly,” he whines through his tears, harsh and bubbly like he’s about to sob.
“No, you don’t.” Lucas grips him tighter so he stops trying to escape. “You’re not gonna do anything.”
“Holly—“
“Can wait another night,” Lucas threads a hand through his greasy hair. He hasn’t showered since the day after every ended, too busy trying to put the world back together to realize he stank like sweat and the blood from his wound that he won’t let heal because he refuses to rest.
“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Lucas tilts his head up, presses their foreheads together, and his face blurs in front of him, but he can still see the speckles of blood like freckles on his cheeks.
“I’m gonna take you back to the hospital. I’m gonna tell them you and your sisters need to stay another few days, and me and the party are gonna fix your house. As best as we can, alright?”
It takes a moment, a beat where Lucas thinks he’s going to argue with him, but he opens his mouth, dry skin around his lips cracking, and he says “Alright.”
Lucas laughs a little, happy that he agrees. “The Byers are moving into Hopper’s cabin, so we’ll get all their stuff out, and you’ll get your basement back.”
Lucas knew that the basement had always been Mike’s escape, his place to hide away from his family, whether it be in a DND game or a good book, or a writing session, that basement was his favorite place in the world.
Mike doesn’t smile, but he can see that light begin to return to his eyes, and it’s enough for now, it has to be enough. Lucas presses a kiss to his lips, nothing more than a reminder that he’s there, no matter what, that he’ll always be there.
Lucas gets him up, grabs some clothes from his bedroom, and a few pairs of clothes for Nancy and Holly before packing them in a bag and coming back down, Mike isn’t looking at the blood anymore, but instead at the front window, which has been shattered into about a million pieces.
“Blankets,” Mike says suddenly, and Lucas raises a brow at him, “in the basement. Can you guys leave a stack of blankets? Holly likes to sleep in forts when she’s upset.”
Lucas grabs his hand, knowing that the second they leave the house he can’t hold it anymore, and squeezes. “Of course we can.”
It’s easy now, to pull Mike from the house, harder to drop his hand in the short walk to the WSQK van where Steve is waiting. They get in the back and Lucas doesn’t expect it but Mike curls into his side like a needy lapdog. Maybe he should be concerned about what it all means, about what Steve is thinking about them right now, but then he remembers Robin and Vickie right next to them in the hospital, holding hands and kissing in what they thought would be their final moments, and Lucas thinks he might be safe around Steve.
So he presses a kiss to Mike’s head and lets Steve drive them back to the hospital. Because Mike needs time to heal, and so does he, he knows he’s popped the stitches on his slash mark across his chest at least twice today.
When they get there Mike will insist on rooming with Holly, and Lucas will pair up with Dustin, but it won’t matter because they’ll spend all their time together anyways, Max in her wheelchair with El and Will in hospital chairs, Mike and Lucas pretending they’re not wrapped around each other in his bed, but they’re all together, and that’s all that matters.
The government will pay for the house to be fixed, the windows will be replaced and the carpet will be removed and redone, the wall paneling will be replaced with wallpaper, and Mike will walk in and immediately know every difference. Know that the carpet doesn’t have the years of history it used to have.
But for now, they don’t think about the Wheelers’ ripped apart house, they think about getting better, about what the future holds for them now that they aren’t being hunted down by the government or monsters from another dimension. Lucas thinks that now, for the first time since they were twelve, they can finally be kids again.