Mileven One Shots

For Better or Worse (1990)

***********

It all began with built up pressure behind his raven tinted eyes. At first, Mike had just chalked the uneasy tension that had settled in his veins up to unresolved stressors. Yet, as he sat in his third lecture of the day, he felt a creeping ache begin to settle within his esophagus. To make things even more clear, as he was turning in his assignment, he accidentally released a sneeze onto his professor's hand. With one lesson left of the day, Mike thought he could tough through it. However, as he walked across campus, an unsettling wooziness ached in his bones. Rather than suffer longer, he dragged his lanky body blocks away to his apartment.

He was finally inches away from his doorway when he heard muffled voices speaking through the drywall. He knew El's schedule gave her a few free afternoons, but he never suspected her to have people over during that time. His mind lacked clarity and boundary as he pressed his ear up against the lament frame as he listened in; completely unaware of the noticeable noise his congested breath was making. For several seconds, he didn't hear any sounds at all. Then, before he could make sense of anything, nearby shuffling echoed towards him so rapidly that he failed to lean away in time.

And that is exactly how Mike found himself laid flat out on the foyer floor. A gruff sigh came from above him as a deep voice deadpanned, "really, kid?"

Mike's bleary eyes peered up at the burly man before him as he muttered, "Hopper."

"You look like hell," Hop lowly spoke as he crouched down and placed the back of his hand on the boy's pale forehead. After a brief moment, he uttered under his breath, "you are definitely sick."

"Thank you for pointing out the obvious," Mike whispered into the hardwood flooring that rested beneath his skull. He tried mustering as much strength as possible to hoist himself up, but somehow, he remained splayed out on the ground; entirely gassed out of all energy.

Before Hopper could manage to help him up, a cheery voice called from across the room, "dad, who was at the door—"

El's words died within her throat at the sight of her disheveled boyfriend. She scampered quickly to where he laid and gradually flung herself onto her knees beside him. Her hands canvased along his skin as her eyes searched for any signs of harm on him.

Recognizing her panic, Mike croaked, "I'm okay, baby. I promise—" a hoarse cough interrupted him as he found his own windpipe threatening to burst within him. The only relief he found was in the cool touch of his girlfriend's nimble fingers as she soothingly massaged his scalp.

Once his breath had been caught, Hopper wisely suggested, "Ellie, help me get him to bed."

Before Mike could protest, he found himself awkwardly sprawled between his partner and future father in law as he was carted to their sanctuary. After he had been plopped on top of the mattress, El worked to remove the shoes from his feet. She then searched for his pajamas, suddenly shooing Hopper from the room, before she tenderly changed him into something more comfortable.

In her flurry of motions, Mike practically begged, "love, it's okay. Don't worry."

"Don't worry?" Eleven spat as she tugged on his shirt, "you look really sick and you practically fainted, but you don't want me to worry? How would you feel if the roles were reversed? What if it was me that was evidently ill?"

Something Mike had learned about his beloved soulmate in the years they spent together was how passionately she could ramble under immense stress. It didn't happen often, but when it did, he had to make sure to bite back his laughter as her antics were rather adorable.

Fighting against the headache pounding within him, Mike murmured, "hey, look at me," he gently palmed El's face, running his thumb along her furrowed brows as he cooed, "it's a common cold. I'm not going anywhere, El. I'll be okay. I just need to rest with you by my side."