บท 44: 44. French Day
A/N: Hi, yes, I'm not dead! I wasn't going to update because I'm not in my home state. My mom and little brother had to renovate their visas, and my dad was like "fuck it", so I'm currently in a week-long break away from the school stress haha. So, as I said, I wasn't going to update (also, the internet here is shit!— I'm in Chetumal, btw [close to Cancun]), but today is one of my favorite's birthday.
CC! It is technically still your birthday. It's 11:58 right here, so you still have 2 minutes of the day left. I hope you had a great, awesome, fun, lovely and beautiful birthday. You're one of my most loyal followers; one who comments, reads, favorites, follows everything I do (both here in FF and AO3), and you have no idea how much that means to me, gorgeous. I love you and I hope you can get your account back soon lol!
So, without further ado... here's chapter 44 (also known as CC's bday present)
PROMPT: Mileven fluff by iAmCC
"I've got an idea."
"Another one?"
"This time is a good one!"
El snorted, flipping through the glossy magazine. "Okay, shoot."
"What if—and don't laugh— what if we build a volcano, put some red gel inside, get some silver streamers, put some baking soda and vinegar inside, and then BOOM! It's like a party exploded in the classroom."
She raised an eyebrow at him, plainly stating her thoughts through her expression. "A volcano," she repeated. "With streamers. Does that scream art revolution to you?"
"Kind of... well, I don't see you proposing anything." Mike huffed as he flopped on the bed beside her.
"I'm thinking." She said as she read an article about color-opposites on eyes and clothes. It made sense that Max used so much green and blue. It was a perfect contrast to her orange hair.
He snatched the magazine from her hands, rolling to rest on his back as she protested. "Well, if we want to make a fashion show, we know what colors to use, then."
She giggled, sitting up and poking his side. "Don't be silly. Of course we're not doing a fashion show. We just need to think... how did Mrs. Sostini put it?"
"Outside of the box." Mike supplied helpfully, nodding as he lowered the magazine to his chest.
"Be original," El continued thoughtfully. "Creative."
"Ugh," Mike groaned dramatically. "I don't know why I let you and Will rope me into taking Art class."
"Because you love us both and enjoy spending the entire class doing absolutely nothing."
"Yeah, but I didn't count on the final project being a damn Golden Age revival."
"Now you're just being a drama queen," El chuckled. "Or drama king?"
"I can be both." He sat up, shifting until they were facing each other on her bed. "How about we forget about this for a minute and kiss each other senseless?" Mike wiggled his eyebrows, making her laugh loudly.
"No, I don't think I will." She whispered with a smile, lifting a hand to finger the collar of his striped shirt.
"Why?" He whispered indulgently, leaning in to brush his nose with hers.
"Because my dad is outside." She whispered back, their lips brushing slightly
"And I can hear everything that's going on in there!" Hopper's voice rang out from the living room.
Mike huffed, leaning back as El laughed once more.
She took a moment to observe her boyfriend. He was laying back all the way again, resting on her bed, his arms spread against her pillows and his hands under his head. His shirt had risen a bit from the movement, and a sliver of pale skin was showing between the bottom of his polo and the waistband of his jeans.
"See something you like?" Mike muttered teasingly, a lopsided smile tilting his lips as he watched her observe him.
"I see a lot I like." She grinned, leaning in to rest against his side.
His hand automatically went to the spot between her hip and waist, a place that was becoming pleasantly familiar to him.
He couldn't help himself and leaned down to kiss her, making sure they didn't make too much noise as to not alert Hopper.
As they kissed, she threaded her fingers into his dark locks, curling her digits around the soft curls, tugging teasingly and then relaxing her palm to scratch her nails lightly on his scalp. He sighed softly, melting further up against her, his lips leaving hers so he could place his chin on her collarbone and his nose on her neck.
She giggled softly, continuing her massage, as he threw his other arm around her waist, clasping his hands together against her lower back.
"Know what we should do in the meantime?" She asked gently as she observed his hair. He hadn't cut it since Christmas, and only because his mother had threatened to do it herself if he didn't went to the hairdresser. It was long, nearly brushing his shoulders.
"What?" He responded, his voice sluggish and muffled, and his lips tickled her skin when he spoke.
She withdrew her hand, making him whine in protest, but she only did it so she could place her fingers at his hairline, pressing her palm against his forehead as her fingers combed his dark locks, starting from the roots.
She hummed, internally nodding. "You should let me braid your hair."
He made an inquiring sound, his thumb rubbing a circle on the base of her spine.
"It's long enough," she continued, talking softly. "And I need to practice. I can't see my own hair and Max doesn't like braids."
"You should practice on Hopper."
She chuckled, her stomach caving in with the force, and she felt his shoulder shake with his snicker. "Can you imagine a braid on his mustache?" Mike continued with a snort.
She laughed again, nearly gasping from the image that came to her head. "Multiple braids on his mustache!"
They laughed, their bodies shaking together as they were pressed against each other.
She continued threading her fingers through his hair, still giggling quietly from the picture of her father talking with tiny braids slapping against his lips.
"So?" Mike mumbled.
"Hmm?"
"The braid."
"What braid?" She got easily distracted by him, and his hair was too long to not be throughly enjoyed by her fingers.
"Are you going to braid my hair?" Mike questioned, opening an eye to peer up at her face. "You have full permission to do whatever you want with me."
Somewhere outside, Hopper grunted. "With my hair." Mike corrected loudly, receiving an 'mhm' in approval.
"No, I won't be able to work with all your hair if you're laying on me." She pushed at his shoulders when he began to shift to lay his back against her chest.
"How do you want me, then?"
Hopper coughed outside.
"Christ." Mike whispered under his breath.
"Just..." she bit her lip, pondering over how she wanted him, before she sat on her knees and shuffled out of his sight. "Lay on your stomach."
He raised his eyebrows but didn't say anything, doing exactly what she had instructed. He smiled softly when he felt her straddle his hips, her palms open against his clothed back.
"Mmmm," she hummed thoughtfully. "I didn't think of this."
"What?"
"I don't want you to die from suffocation, so you're going to... there." She placed a hand on his chin and spun his head around, laying his cheek flat on her pillows.
"How are you going to reach the other side?" He asked sluggishly, already feeling his eyes flutter as her fingers started combing his hair.
"I'll manage."
He stayed quiet, sighing deeply as she tugged strands of hair, muttering to herself while she crossed the pieces underneath the others. Once or twice she cursed as a curl fell out, feeling his back move underneath her when he chuckled at her, but she continued to French braid his hair, seriously concentrated.
"How you holdin' up?" Mike questioned gently after a few minutes, when he felt her fingers going down the middle of his head.
"Your hair isn't as long as I thought. The front curls won't make it to the end."
"Oh, poor guys."
She giggled, again, making him smile. Even though they were nowhere near to even beginning their project, he was very happy with how their day was going. Every minute spent with her was worth it. Sometimes he questioned the depth of his feels for her, and... well, it didn't necessarily scare him, but he knew they were young. Still, he was very aware that they weren't a normal couple, in a normal situation. Their true love story couldn't be told, but they had adjusted the beginnings for the people, had watered down how they met, and the result was fine. It didn't matter anyway. There was only her and him. They didn't need anyone else.
"El?"
"Mmm?"
"I love you."
Her fingers stilled on the back of his head, and he felt her thighs clench around his hips. He internally panicked for the entire 12 seconds it took her to respond, thinking 'oh, shit, she isn't there yet' and 'damnit, Michael, you should've waited', but then she sighed.
"Fuck, Mike."
Shit, he should've definitely waited. She already knew what love was, but maybe she didn't feel that for him yet. God-fucking-damnit, Mike!
"I'm sorry, I- it's okay if you—"
"Shut up, mouth-breather." She said, tugging on the braid. He protested lightly, feeling the tiny hairs on the nape of his neck strain and tug at his scalp from their place inside the braid.
She sighed again, and he wanted to cry.
She surprised him by laying her front on his back, her chest, stomach and whole torso pressed against him. Her breath tickled his ear and her neck was laying next to his.
"I love you too, silly," she whispered lovingly, kissing his cheek twice, and then the corner of his tilted lips, grinning against his smile. "You just made me mess up my braid."
"You can do it again." He started to move, trying to grab at her waist so he could lay on his back and kiss her properly, but stopped at her protests.
"Wait, wait, wait, hold on," she sat back on his hips, one hand holding on the end of the messy braid, while she held the other in the air towards her dresser. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, and then a hair tie flew into her palm. With a sniffle, she turned back to the braid, tying the thing with rapid fingers. She took a moment to inspect her work, noticing the places where his curls had escaped, and where she needed to tighten the hair a bit more (next time, she thought), but then her seat was moving underneath her.
She made a sound between a yelp and a laugh, trying to hold onto his shoulder as Mike shifted until he was flat on his back, a huge smile on his lips and his hands on her hips.
"Hi." He grinned widely, squeezing her hips, his thumbs pressing on her skin as they sneaked underneath the waistband of her shorts.
She couldn't help but laugh; his hair was pinned back by the braid, his usual halo of dark curls hidden on the back of his head and smashed against her pillow. His eyes were bright, a show of twinkling stars against the dark wideness of the universe, constellations blinking all over her face; his lips were also wide, the gleaming set of teeth made visible by the huge grin.
She leaned down, pressing her lips to the scatter of freckles adorning his nose and cheeks. His arms wrapped around her again, squeezing her gently against him as he kissed her jaw. "Hi." He mumbled again.
She grinned, moving back to peer down at him. "Hi."
They kissed again, their warm breaths mingling with the other's as they deepened the kiss. She had learned what a French kiss was a few months ago, thanks to Max and a very structured explanation from Will, and they had been trying it out ever since then.
The rasp of his tongue still felt weird against hers, but it wasn't unpleasant. It never was. And she felt herself enjoying this type of kissing more and more each time.
They separated with a noisy sound, their lips moist and gleaming, breath a puff of air from their nostrils.
"I love you." She repeated, matching his grin.
"I love you," he repeated too, just because he could now. "I love you, I love you, I love you." She laughed, feeling enormously happy and dizzy with love, for him. He pressed noisy kisses to her cheek, her nose sliding against his skin.
He leaned back, the smile never leaving his lips, and they shared another giddy laugh, their gazes flooding with warmth and amusement. She was still sitting on top of him, her chin resting on his chest, and if he tried to concentrate better, he could count the gold rays around her irises. But because they were so damn distracting, he refocused on her lips.
"Mmm, we're... not doing...anything," she mumbled between kisses. "Mike, we have a project to do."
"You're a very important task, and I think I need to focus on you first." He nodded seriously.
"Oh, so I'm part of the project now?" She laughed, letting him maneuver her onto her side so they were facing each other.
"You're my whole project," he whispered cutely, leaning in to kiss her nose. "And you've always been the biggest part."
She smiled, half of her face smashed against the pillow. "You always say the sweetest things."
"That's because you give me reason to."
She giggled, returning his kiss, before she leaned in to snuggle against him.
His neck was warm, and so was his breath as he sighed against her cheek.
They loved each other, and they knew those feelings wouldn't change, no matter what. Even better, they would grow and grow as the years progressed.
But for now, they settled for cuddling and kissing, ignoring Hopper's reprimanding voice and their unplanned project.
Homework could wait.
And Art wasn't even a subject he cared about.
Screw you, Sostini, Mike thought as they made out, this is my Golden Age.
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