62Mike hadn't nagged about the promise she made that morning. He trusted her to follow through with her word – but he had to keep telling himself to give it time. It gnawed at him more than he cared to admit, and instead tried to focus on going throughout the day as usual. That meant driving them to his place, entering from the basement door and getting comfortable in an area of the house that while still collected a lot of shitty junk, had also become his lair.
It was where the worn and torn sofa was where his friends lounged on, and the round table of gaming they'd gather around during their free time. It was also home to the infamous fort he'd built for El years ago – he had refused to take it down, even after her return, and they chose to expand it as time progressed to fit their growth spurts. It was a comfortable nest of old pillows and blankets, and a spot for them to nestle in and do productive things like studying and homework.
Or non-productive things that were ten times more fun.
Kind of like now.
"We'll probably end up taking the table," he grinned between ticklish kisses as they rested on their sides, bodies like magnets pulling them together, allowing no space in between. "Couch, too, 'til we get something nicer. Guess we'll have to build a fort at some point but I don't know where we would fit that. I mean, I'd kind of like to get an actual bed. Not my shitty twin-sized one that barely even fits me."
El was giggling, cheeks dimpled as she smiled and tried to put her hands in front of his face because her neck, good god, he knew she was sensitive there. "At least a fort until we can get a bed, maybe. Does this mean I get to deal with you farting every day?"
Mike had to pull back a bit because what. "Huh?"
"Hops told me once that it's important for couples to get so comfortable they fart around each other. Or generally speaking, just with anyone you live with?"
"I mean – I don't – he's not –"
"He farts in front of me all the time."
"Okay, you're killing the vibe here," he groaned, and it only made her giggling turn into laughter. "I thought you'd be more focused on, you know, the important things."
"Like furniture?" she cocked a brow, wrapping her arms around his neck to yank him back because she wasn't done with the kisses, and his hands started to get a little adventurous. A slip under her blouse, a pluck of her bra against her skin.
"No, that's just practical," he countered, rolling on top of her but using his elbows to support most of his weight. "I meant we can do things whenever," a kiss, "wherever," another one followed, this one to her jaw – she quivered and he swelled with pride, "we want, without worrying about whose home or waking someone up."
Thankfully no one was home to risk interruption; his parents were off to their marriage counseling appointment (god knows they desperately needed that), and Holly was out at a friend's. Nancy was out of state, only coming home during breaks and holidays. No one in the family knew about his plans and while his father might be miffed about them dodging tradition – because the right way to do things, apparently, was to get married first – his mother wouldn't be too resistant. Fuck tradition, anyway. He was all about doing things their way, at whatever pace fit them the best.
El let out a pleasant hum, and while he ghosted her skin with little pecks, she twirled her fingers into his raven hair. "That is important," she mused, but she felt immediately how forced the smile following it was.
She bit her lip.
"Mike?"
He knew that tone. She'd said his name in it before, tentative and anxious, and he lifted his head to look at her with unhidden concern. "Yeah?" Was it something I said?
"There's a light that's on," she started. "In the lab."
Mike blinked once.
The second time he blinked, his eyes tightened and his brows instantly furrowed as he processed.
Complicated, she had said that morning.
He shifted but didn't move off her, and pulled his hands from underneath her shirt. Instead, his fingers went to her cheek, thumb grazing that soft skin in thought. "Did you…" God, he hoped not. "Did you go there by yourself?"
"I didn't go in it by myself. I saw it from a distance, at night. It's dim, and you can't see it during the day, but it's there."
"How long?"
"About a month, I think," she confessed and felt like shit about his latest look of surprise. "You know when I get dreams I sometimes slip in and out of that dark place?"
That part wasn't a secret. It was just a thing that happened involuntarily every now and again, with one foot in this mental void while the other was still steeped into her own subconscious. It led to nightmares and stumbling onto beings from both planes.
Sometimes she'd see her friends, Mike, or family (Mama, mostly). Other times she'd see things she wished were just something her mind made up. There wasn't a way of stopping it and she never came in contact with any of them.
Whether or not they knew she was there was a question she didn't want the answer to, ever.
"I saw it from there," El tacked on, sighing. "So I had to go see, and I haven't – it's been hard to sleep." His face soon became unreadable and she did not like it, not one bit. She liked it even less when he peeled away from her and sat up, and she pushed herself upright to match. "Mike, I'm –"
"Stop," he interrupted, scrubbing a hand down his face. "I'm not mad."
"Liar."
"I'm annoyed," Mike made a point to correct. "But I'm not mad, El." He didn't think he could ever be – because he knew her. Out of anyone else, Hopper included, there was no one else that knew her like he did. Did he like being in the dark for a month? Fuck no. But he also knew sometimes she needed time to come around, and that she always did, and she'd never go out and do something too impulsive if it put her in danger (I can't lose you again).
Maybe one could argue that getting even in a mile radius of that place was risky as hell for her, but the gravity of what she'd just told him overcame all those petty details.
Despite his claim, all traces of that aforementioned annoyance eventually vanished from his face. "It could be nothing. Maybe. It has been shut down for a while. They're probably figuring out a way to repurpose it or something. It'd be way too risky to try and finish whatever the hell they started again, right?"
"I don't know," she admitted, tucking wavy strands of her hair behind her ear. Talking about it out loud didn't take the weight of the burden off the shoulders like she thought. Instead it cemented that feeling of dread, because it was acknowledging that all good things could come to an end. "I haven't said anything to Hops about it yet. Just you."
El was upset. He noticed how tense she suddenly looked, and the way her nails were scratching at her denim jeans, and the way her shoulders were lifted about an inch higher than usual. It made her look that much smaller and much more fragile, even if she could probably lift his very house with her mind alone and chuck it into the next yard.
That's when he pushed her back into the mess of pillows and blankets, the sanctity of their fort, and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "We'll figure it out," he promised, pressing his mouth against her forehead. "Whatever happens. We're not kids anymore."
"I think being kids is what kept us safe back then," she replied quietly, pulling at the buttons of his shirt. Mike was like an anchor that kept her here, in this world – he smelled like his mother's cooking and sweet grass, and when she listened closely, his heartbeat was a lullaby she could sleep to without nightmares. "I'm sorry."
It was a bad habit of hers to apologize for things that weren't her fault. Mike didn't know if he could ever get her to stop, but he knew he'd always assure her otherwise. "It's not your fault," he said, lifting her chin so they could be at eye level. "We're going to need to tell Hopper, eventually. Maybe he can figure out if there's someone there. There's still a chance it can be nothing."
He hoped it was nothing, with every fiber of his being. That laboratory was government property. Anyone messing with it was most likely from the government. The same people that used her as an experiment, then smeared her image with stories of how she was some kind of dangerous fugitive when she was the actual victim. They let people think Will was did, came into their homes, confiscated their belongings and then put bugs everywhere.
El couldn't come home because of them. She had to hide for two fucking years. Mike couldn't emphasize how much he hated those bastards.
"What do you think he'll take better, us moving in together or that something's going on at the lab?" she asked, actually trying to drop some form of humor into their predicament.
"Valid question. Answer probably depends on his opinion of me at the time of confession."
She was smiling again. It was small, but it was good enough for him.
They spent the next several minutes in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable, although they both knew they were ensnared by their own thoughts - Mike's fingers were in her curls, hers played with his shirt until the first button came undone.
"I want you to show me."
"What?"
"The light in the lab," he clarified, staring her straight in the eyes with the intent of not backing down. "I want you to show me. Tonight. I'll meet you outside your window."
El's eyebrows knitted together.
"Please?"
"You don't have to be polite about it," she retorted. Mike had to grin a little there. He could tell she was exasperated, but he was sure it was a fond exasperation. That's what he liked to think, anyway. "Fine. After midnight. Don't knock on the wi-"
A squeak came to interrupt her words as he flipped them, Mike on top of her all over again and his hands climbing up her sides with motive. "We've mastered the art of sneaking out at night without the Chief noticing." I think. "I know what to do."
It was well past sundown when he dropped her off. "After midnight," Mike reminded after their kisses goodbye, something they almost couldn't stop again but Hopper was at home, waiting, and she wanted to be mindful of time before suspicions arose. El didn't let him escort her to the porch much to his dismay, but they'd see each other in a couple hours at best.
He often made a point to linger around the path, car engine off, windows rolled down, as she disappeared into the woods in case he heard something strange or off. He hadn't, not in the years of her finally being home, but he tonight he was particularly anxious.
Tonight, and probably for the next several nights, that peace was threatened.
Jim Hopper always had a signature knock before entering the cabin.
Eleven didn't.
Her signature entrance was, of course, undoing the locks of the inside from the outside without breaking a sweat or bloody nose. When he heard steel clink against steel, chains coming undone, the Chief knew it was unmistakably her and that she'd come home.
"Hey," was his gruff greet from the partitioned kitchen area. He was still in uniform with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, prepping something over the stove for the evening. Judging from the blue box on the counter, he was cooking up the scrumptious cuisine of macaroni and cheese. "Eaten yet?"
"No," El told him, dropping her backpack so she could undo her sneakers for the second time today. "Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler had a rough evening." Again. Mike hadn't wanted to stay home long when they came storming through the front door, their entrance spoiling their mood. He was off picking Holly up from her friend's, probably.
Hopper couldn't help but snort. "Jesus," he mumbled around his cigarette. "Figures. How'd school go?"
It was a question he didn't fear so much anymore. The Don't Be Stupid rules had been expanded on drastically when she was introduced to society, and before she'd been a snot about following them until she reunited with her friends. Especially the Wheeler boy. The older she got, the more she understood his reasons.
She didn't always like it - and there were times shit was thrown across the room during their disagreements - but she came to see his side a little more. And he saw hers, and then they'd sit on the couch and eat something detrimental to their cholesterol like nothing happened.
"Good," she answered with a shrug and went to get a soda from the fridge. "Max and Lucas are still fighting."
"How's that going for them?"
"Badly."
"About college crap still?"
The can of Pepsi (because Coke could conjured memories she cared to forget) was opened, and the carbonation hissed. "Yes."
"Relationships get complicated the older you get," Hopper said, straining the pasta into the sink. Steam billowed, and he took a moment to enjoy a puff of his cancer stick. "Sometimes people want to move on and see what else the world offers. Puppy love doesn't cut it anymore."
Eleven knew the reasoning behind it. It was something Max struggled with, a lot, because she loved Lucas, but the distance and separation would take a toll. She was afraid of the future and afraid of limiting herself. El herself couldn't empathize much. She'd once asked Mike if he ever felt the way Max and Lucas did, and he looked at her like she sprouted eight heads.
It was relieving.
Then they had sex in his car, which was even more relieving.
He started mixing the melted cheese into the macaroni shells and she watched, leaning against the off-white fridge with her fingers tapping against her aluminum drink. El had things to say to him. Two, in fact, but she wouldn't dish it all out in one night.
Baby steps.
"Mike asked me to move in with him," she spoke quietly, like usual, though the words reached his ears and she saw him pause in the stirring. "I said yes."
El coudn't see his face to even try and decipher what the hell he was feeling or thinking. It had her anxious, though, and she bit her lip as wordless seconds passed along with every tick of the wall clock.
What she didn't know right away is that her words, initially, filled him with fear. Fear. Hopper didn't know if every parent felt this way when their child suddenly announced they'd be leaving the nest, but that's where he knew this was going - because she wasn't a child anymore. She knew what words like compromise meant, and she was literate, close to getting her goddamn driver's license (that had internally wrecked him a bit), and there were only a few short months left before she graduated from the awkward horrors of high school, becoming a full-fledged legal adult.
He didn't trust the world. It was sick. Ruthless. It wasn't kind to anyone. It sure as fuck hadn't been kind to her from the start, and sharing a home - becoming her father - made him feel like he could keep the outside world from hurting her again.
But he had strived to make sure she lived the most normal life she could within these walls. Moving on after high school was normal; just another phase of life that naturally came, and while his knee-jerk reaction was something along the lines of you can't leave, he knew that wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be right.
She heard him breathe in deep. He washed his hands at the sink, smothered his cigarette into the ashtray on the windowsill, and slowly turned to face her.
Midst the scruff of his beard was the tiniest, saddest smile. El felt her heart ache.
"Indianapolis?"
Her head nodded once.
Hopper exhaled a sigh, thinking it over. "Not too far. He's not doing a dorm?"
"An apartment," she said, quiet still.
"Still no college for you?"
"I don't want to throw money at classes if I don't know what I want to study."
"That's smart," commended the Chief. He didn't want her to feel pressured about finding some bullshit career. All he wanted her was to be happy. Wherever the hell that took her in life.
"You're not…" she nibbled the inside of her cheek, "going to give me some kind of lecture about puppy love and limiting myself?"
"Do you want me to?"
"No."
"Good, because it doesn't really apply to you."
"What do you mean?"
He started filling two bowls of the cheesy pasta for them. Tomorrow he'd do something with vegetables to make sure she got her greens (because she was fucking impossible with eating healthy), but tonight this would do. "You. Wheeler. Sometimes that shit does work out. People that meet when they're kids and stay together for the rest of their lives. Not common, but it ain't impossible. Had a feeling that's how it'd turn out for the two of you punks for the longest time. Come on, take a seat."
Their table only fit two people still. Any larger gatherings usually happened elsewhere, like Joyce's. A couple times at the Wheeler's when they felt like faking their marriage in front of people.
Hopper dropped to his chair, and it wasn't the curly-haired little person that sat across from him anymore. Instead it was an almost-woman, petite in size with wavy brown locks and a fondness of dark clothes and leather. An almost-woman who devoured books at night, who made sure to let people know her quiet nature wasn't due to shyness (she was picky with her company, much like he was, and heaven help someone who tried to bully her), who would do anything for the tight-knit group of friends she did have.
She was stubborn, loyal, and often unforgivably blunt. He couldn't be more proud.
"Kid's always been a huge pain in my ass with his heart eyes," he groused on. "He never stopped looking at you like you made the world spin on its axis, not once. Don't think he'll stop, either. So if you two are going to get more serious than you already are, I gotta be glad you're with someone who gave me a bruised rib when he was thirteen because he was pissed that I'd hid you from him for an entire year."
Eleven laughed. She laughed so much she couldn't even safely sip her soda, and her smile must have been miles wide. "I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said about him, Pops."
Pops.
That title had been a slip from when she referred to him as Hops, and it was perfect.
"Yeah, yeah," he huffed, stabbing several noodles onto his fork. Him and Mike's relationship had been tense at first; there was a part of the kid that couldn't forget all the days of wondering whether Eleven was dead or alive. Jim couldn't blame him. Over time, Mike chose to treat him with stoic civility instead of fear. And sometimes, they even smiled at each other. "Just – do me a favor. Don't take it too fast, alright? Enjoy one another before shit gets even more serious."
"Promise," El assured him, happy. So happy that she almost, in fact, forgot about the other detail waiting in the dark. She didn't want to ruin this.
So she'd tell him later.
He was asleep by 10:34pm. By 11:53pm, she knew Mike was already waiting outside her window. Figures he'd interpret after midnight to be seven minutes before actual midnight.
Their eyes met in the night, one leg dangling out the window while the other was still in her bedroom. She moved with caution, careful not to make the bones of the cabin creek and crack - last thing they wanted was their plan to go tits up due to the awakening of her father figure.
Mike noticed she wore a pair of sweatpants he'd outgrown ages ago. It fit her like glove.
They said nothing to one another this close to home, not even in whispers. She slowly shut the window with what seemed like only a spare glance, and Mike knew he'd never stop being at awe at her literal mental prowess, whether they did something entirely mundane or fantastical (like, oh, opening and closing inter-dimensional gates, no big deal).
It wasn't until some distance was between them and the cabin that they said anything. Mike had a flashlight out, and she made a noise of protest because that was a beacon of obvious. "I can't see," he defended himself.
"Your eyes will adjust," was her protest. Eleven was used to wandering around in literal pitch blackness, and she was also well-versed in maneuvering through the woods (weirdly better than he was, really, and he hated to think it was because she had lived in them for several weeks). Her hand reached for his free one and their fingers locked, like metals fused stubbornly together. "I told Hops, by the way. About us moving in together."
Mike stumbled over his very own feet and if it weren't for his girlfriend's grip, his face would have ungracefully met the ground.
"And he's given his blessing," El continued, hoping to prevent anymore potential moments of clumsiness. She chuckled, huskily, and brought his hand to her lips. "He likes you."
"I guess the feeling's mostly mutual," he said after processing, relieved that it didn't escalate to anything needlessly complicated. Mike didn't doubt the Chief was going to pull him aside and have a serious talk with him, as he was anal retentive about Eleven's safety. That was fine. It was at least something they could agree on. "I'll tell my parents then. Soon. And we'll take a trip, just us, to scout some places?"
Both of them smiled, their eyes now adjusted enough with the night to see it in one another.
The final trek was climbing up the steep hill, and it brought them up so high to a clearing and ledge that offered them a full view of the sea of trees. Hanging in the sky was the moon, full and bright, shining down. It let them see the building in the dead center, menacingly tall, and Mike was hit with an unpleasant wave of nostalgia.
It had been a long time since he'd seen the silhouette of the laboratory - a monster in its own right, looming and immortal.
"There," she pointed, giving his eyes the direction needed to notice what they were here to observe. It wasn't the most glaringly obvious detail but when he finally noticed it, it was the only thing he could see.
A light. Dim, like she said, something not at all visible during the day. At night, it was a different story.
Mike unzipped his backpack to switch out the flashlight for a pair of binoculars to take a closer look, but there wasn't much for him to make out. Shadows, mostly, and the faint glow from that lone window was nothing more than a blur. He didn't think the building was as heavily guarded as it'd once been - as in, no armed-to-the-teeth military personnel patrolling on foot - so it had him somewhat hopeful.
While he gawked and tried to piece theories together, she sat on a fallen log and slipped a single cigarette from her pocket.
"None of the outside lights are on," he observed, squinting through the lenses. "Just that one." Why? Who the hell had managed to get even the power back up and running in that goddamn hellhole? Was there a separate generator? "And you said you saw this place in that place, that void, right? There's got to be someone in - El."
"Hm?"
"What the hell are you doing?"
He had finally noticed her casually light a cigarette without shame.
"Stressing out," she answered plainly, crossing her legs.
"So you're smoking," Mike deadpanned.
"That's what everyone usually does. It helps a little." Especially when it came to suppressing leaks of telekinesis from her feelings.
His look was enough to know that he didn't like it. No need for words there. El could tell he was a little upset, but then the slouch of his shoulders signified some sense of defeat. He lowered his binoculars and then joined her on the log, eyes ahead at the building.
"You do this most nights, then? Come up here? Watch to see if something happens?"
"Yes."
Ashes were flicked off the end of the cigarette, and the embers softly burned away the white paper as she took another puff. Mike watched her do it, noting how natural it looked for her - with her hardened face (no dimples to be seen), the remnants of black liner around caramel eyes. Unsurprisingly, she intimidated a lot of people at school with her few words and a face that said fuck off.
Over the years, the bullies left them alone. The reason was obvious.
But she wasn't the least bit terrifying to him, and he knew it was her that was scared. Scared about what this could mean for them, scared that everything she did her best to avoid in the past couple years could effortlessly come back and mess all their plans up. They were so, so close in getting out of here. They could almost taste air that didn't surround Hawkins.
Mike pulled the cigarette from her mouth in mid-smoke, and put it between his own lips for a single intake that burned his throat and stung his lungs more than he was prepared for. Then, he tossed it to the ground and smothered it under his shoe.
When he kissed her, their mouths tasted like warm ash.
Like he said earlier that day, they'd figure it out. Together.