Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

September 1st, 1989 — 8 a.m.

The pounding on the door felt like a jackhammer to Mike’s skull. His temples throbbed with every knock. He groaned, half his face buried in his pillow, his mouth dry and tasting like stale beer.

“Jesus,” he mumbled, dragging his body upright. The room tilted and spun. The floor was cluttered with empty bottles, crumpled clothes, and textbooks he hadn’t opened in weeks.

Whoever was at the door wasn’t giving up. He stumbled across the room, squinting against the harsh morning light streaming through the blinds, and yanked the door open.

There she was. Ashley… was that her name? The blur of the night before wasn’t helping him piece it together. Blonde hair, smeared eyeliner, chewing gum with a lazy kind of boredom in her eyes.

She didn’t even wait for him to say anything. Instead, she shoved a crumpled envelope into his hand.

“I’m pregnant,” she said, her voice flat, almost disinterested. “It’s yours.”

Mike’s brain short-circuited. The words bounced around his skull, not quite sticking.

“What?” he croaked, his voice cracked from dehydration and panic. He stared at her, searching her face for some hint that this was a sick joke. But there was no hint of humor. No emotion at all.

She shifted her weight onto one foot, her arms crossed. “You heard me.”

His mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it might break his ribs. He swallowed. “Are you—are you sure? I mean, are you positive it’s mine?”

She rolled her eyes, popping a bubble with her gum. “Haven’t been with anyone else since you. So yeah. I’m sure.”

Mike leaned a hand against the doorframe, the walls suddenly too close. His stomach churned, last night’s alcohol swirling unpleasantly. He rubbed his eyes, hoping maybe when he opened them, this would all disappear. But she was still there. Still staring.

“What the hell?” he muttered to himself, trying to catch his breath. He looked back up at her. “What—what are you gonna do?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. But you gotta help me raise it.” The way she said it was almost casual, like she was asking him to spot her some cash or help her move a couch, not raise a whole damn baby.

His eyes widened. “Help you raise it? I—I don’t know how to do that! I’m eighteen, Ashley!” The name felt like a gamble, but she didn’t correct him. He continued, words spilling out in a panicked rush. “I don’t have any money, I can barely keep up with my classes, I—I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life! How the hell am I supposed to raise a baby?”

She shrugged again, eyes drifting away from his face. “Not my problem. Should’ve thought of that before you got me pregnant.”

His jaw clenched. “We were both there. This isn’t just my fault.”

She chewed her gum loudly, looking bored. “Yeah, well, it’s too late for all that now.”

Mike ran a hand through his tangled hair, fingers trembling. His mind raced through a million thoughts—dropping out of college, his mom’s disappointed face, his dad’s cold stare, his friends he’d barely talked to recently. And a baby. A baby.

He sucked in a shaky breath. “Okay… okay. Yeah. Of course. I’ll—I’ll help. I mean, what else can I do?” His voice cracked on the last word. He felt like the floor was slipping out from under him.

She finally looked at him, eyes narrowing like she was trying to gauge if he meant it. “Good.” Her tone was clipped. “Let me in.”

He stepped aside, and she brushed past him into the mess of his dorm room, not even glancing at the chaos. He shut the door behind her, feeling like he was sealing off a part of his life he’d never get back.

“Do you need anything?” he asked weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

She flopped onto his unmade bed, scrolling through her purse. “Nah. Just needed you to know.” She paused, glancing up with a cold, distant look. “And I’m not doing this alone. You’re in this now, Mike. Whether you like it or not.”

He nodded numbly, the weight of those words settling deep in his chest. You’re in this now.

The room felt smaller. The air felt heavier. And Mike Wheeler, who had faced monsters and other dimensions, realized that nothing had ever terrified him more than this. 

May 2nd, 1990

The cheap clock on the wall ticked away with maddening precision. Each second felt like a warning, a countdown to something he couldn’t stop. Mike sat at the rickety kitchen table, his head in his hands, staring blankly at the unpaid bills scattered in front of him. The paper edges curled and yellowed under the fluorescent light, glaring reminders of everything he couldn’t afford. Rent. Utilities. Appointment fees. Baby supplies.

The baby’s coming in a few days.

That thought alone made his stomach twist so tightly he thought he might be sick. He gripped his hair and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force the rising panic back down. It wasn’t working. His heart pounded, his breathing quick and shallow.

How am I supposed to do this?

He tried to picture what it would be like when the baby arrived, tried to see himself holding a tiny, fragile life in his arms. Instead, all he saw was failure. A tiny face staring back at him, crying because he couldn’t provide. Couldn’t give them enough. Couldn’t be enough.

Ashley’s distant voice pulled him back. She was on the couch, flipping through channels with a glazed expression. He didn’t even know if she saw the shows she was clicking past. She barely looked up anymore, barely spoke. It was like the weight of the pregnancy meant nothing to her. The baby wasn’t real to her, just an inconvenience she’d have to deal with.

But it was real to Mike. So damn real it hurt.

He thought about the days he’d come home after class, exhaustion dragging his limbs like lead weights, only to find Ashley gone. No note. No explanation. Just the suffocating silence of the too-small apartment. He’d check the clock, heart hammering against his ribs, praying she wasn’t doing something dangerous. That the baby—their baby—was safe. He’d pace the living room until his shift at the grocery store forced him to leave, the pit in his stomach growing with each second she didn’t return.

What if something happens to her? What if the baby gets hurt?

But when she did come back—hours later, reeking of smoke or cheap perfume—she’d brush past his questions, uninterested. Detached. Like none of this mattered. Like he didn’t matter. Like the baby didn’t matter.

He hated how that made him feel. Trapped. Alone. Terrified.

Mike stood up, his chair scraping against the linoleum floor. He braced himself against the sink, staring out the window. The sun was just starting to rise, but it did nothing to lift the heavy gray fog that settled in his mind. The world felt dull. Muted. His reflection in the glass stared back at him, hollow-eyed and worn. Dark circles etched beneath eyes that had seen too many sleepless nights. He barely recognized himself anymore.

Nineteen years old. He was supposed to be worrying about midterms, about what party he’d go to on the weekend, about… normal things. Teenager things. Not cribs, diapers, or whether he’d be able to keep a roof over their heads for another month.

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. This isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what I planned.

But that didn’t matter now. What mattered was that in a few days, there would be a baby in this apartment. A baby who didn’t ask for any of this. A baby who would rely on him, completely.

The weight of it crushed him.

His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the sink. What if I can’t do it? The thought echoed, louder and louder, until it drowned everything else out. What if he was a bad dad? What if he let the baby down? What if he let himself down?

The tears came suddenly, hot and unrelenting. He hunched over the sink, his shoulders shaking. He was trying. God, he was trying. But it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t enough. Every day felt like a battle he was losing. He wanted to call his mom, to hear her tell him it would be okay, that he wasn’t alone. He wanted his friends—Will, El, Lucas, Dustin, hell, even Max. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t drag them into this mess, couldn’t let them see how far he’d fallen.

He’d stopped answering their calls weeks ago. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the person he used to be. The person he’d let down.

A sudden wave of anger flared in his chest. At himself. At Ashley. At the whole damn situation. He clenched his jaw and wiped his eyes roughly. He didn’t have time to break down. He couldn’t afford to fall apart.

He turned to Ashley. “Did you call the doctor’s office yet? About the delivery date?”

She didn’t look up. “No.”

He exhaled sharply, frustration clawing at his insides. “You said you would.”

She shrugged. “Forgot.”

His fists tightened at his sides. How can you forget about something so important? He wanted to yell, to demand why she didn’t care. But the words stuck in his throat, swallowed by exhaustion and fear.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll call them.”

He grabbed the phone off the wall and dialed, his fingers shaking. Each beep of the numbers felt like a countdown to something he wasn’t ready for. He made the appointment, scribbled down the details, and hung up.

When he turned around, Ashley was already flipping through channels again, completely checked out. His chest felt like it was caving in.

I’m doing this alone.

He slumped back into the chair, the weight of everything pressing him down. He closed his eyes, a single thought looping through his mind.

God, I just want someone to tell me it’ll be okay.

But no one was coming. No one knew how deep in it he was. And that was his own damn fault.

Chapter Text

May 4th, 4:34AM

Mike’s world was a blur of motion and noise. One moment, he was lost in a half-formed dream, the stale scent of the apartment clinging to the air. The next, he was being violently shaken awake.

“Michael, wake the fuck up!”

His eyes snapped open, confusion clouding his mind. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog of sleep. Ashley’s face hovered inches from his, her eyes wide and wild, her jaw clenched tight.

“What?” he croaked, his throat dry and raw. The pounding in his skull from too little sleep and too much stress made everything feel slow, warped.

Her words were clipped, frantic. “My water broke.”

For a second, it didn’t register. The phrase drifted through his brain like a cloud, disconnected from meaning. And then it hit him—like ice-cold water poured down his back.

His heart lurched in his chest, hammering so hard it felt like it might burst through his ribcage. He shot up from the bed so quickly that his legs tangled in the thin sheet and he nearly fell face-first to the floor. His fingers fumbled to free himself, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

“Oh my God, oh my God,” he muttered under his breath, his vision swimming. His hands felt clammy, his skin cold and damp. He looked at Ashley, who stood there with a mix of annoyance and pain etched across her face, her arms wrapped tightly around her abdomen.

“I—I—do you need help getting to the car?” His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. He felt like his throat was closing in on itself, every word a struggle.

Ashley shook her head, already moving toward the door. “No. Just hurry the hell up.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay.” He said it like a mantra, as if repeating it would make it true, make it easier to believe. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, his fingers trembling. His brain was a storm, thoughts and worries crashing into each other so violently that he couldn’t hold on to any one of them.

The bag. The car seat. Do we have everything?

He glanced around the room, his vision blurring at the edges. The cheap lamp cast long, sickly shadows on the walls. The apartment was a mess—dirty dishes piled in the sink, unopened mail scattered on the counter, clothes draped over the backs of chairs. It felt like the walls were closing in on him.

He forced himself to move, his limbs sluggish, almost numb. His eyes darted toward the closet where he’d stashed everything—a hospital bag he’d packed himself, filled with whatever he thought they might need. He wasn’t sure it was enough. Wasn’t sure if he’d remembered everything. Ashley hadn’t helped. She hadn’t even looked at the bag, let alone checked the contents.

He yanked the closet door open, the hinges creaking in protest. The bag was heavier than he remembered, the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. He snatched it up, his breath coming in shallow bursts, and his gaze fell on the car seat tucked into the corner. It felt too small, too fragile. The thought of putting a real baby in there made his stomach twist into a painful knot.

God, what if I can’t do this? What if I mess it all up?

His hands shook as he grabbed the car seat and slung the bag over his shoulder. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he rushed to the door. His heart was a jackhammer, each beat pounding against his ribs with a relentless rhythm. His vision narrowed, a tunnel of panic, and all he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears.

Ashley was already halfway out the door, her movements stiff and labored. She didn’t look back. She didn’t say a word. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Mike alone in the suffocating silence of the apartment for one agonizing moment.

Breathe. Just breathe.

He tried to steady himself, but his lungs felt too small. The air was thick, hot, suffused with dread. His knees felt weak as he bolted for the door, the bag thumping against his back, the car seat digging into his palms. He fumbled with the doorknob, cursing under his breath, his fingers slick with sweat.

The hallway felt endless, the peeling wallpaper blurring as he ran. His sneakers squeaked against the worn-out carpet, each step a reminder that he was running out of time.

When he burst out of the building, the early morning sun slapped him in the face, too bright, too harsh. He squinted, his eyes watering as he scanned the parking lot. Ashley was already by the car, one hand braced against the roof, her face twisted in pain.

God, she’s in pain. This is really happening. This is real.

He ran to her, his breath ragged. “Okay, okay, let’s go,” he panted. “Are you sure you’re—”

“Just get in the damn car, Mike!” she snapped, her voice tight.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, fumbling with the keys. His hands shook so badly he nearly dropped them. The metal was cold against his skin, grounding him in the most brutal way. He finally managed to unlock the door and threw the car seat and bag onto the back seat. He slid into the driver’s seat, his hands clutching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

The engine sputtered to life, the familiar rumble doing little to ease the panic squeezing his chest. He glanced at Ashley, her face pale and drawn. She didn’t look at him. Just stared straight ahead, her lips pressed into a thin line.

He put the car in drive and pulled out of the lot, his foot heavy on the gas. The streets blurred past him—buildings, traffic lights, people—none of it registered. His mind was a whirlwind of fear and doubt. He couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts.

What if we don’t make it in time? What if something goes wrong? What if we lose the baby?

He clenched his jaw, his breath hitching. “We’re almost there,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. The words felt hollow. He didn’t know if they’d make it, didn’t know if he was doing any of this right.

When the hospital finally loomed into view, his heart skipped a beat. He swerved into the driveway, tires screeching, and pulled up to the entrance. His hands fumbled for the gear shift, his entire body trembling. He turned to Ashley, his eyes wide, desperate. “I’ll get someone! Just—just hold on!”

She barely nodded, her face twisted with discomfort.

He jumped out of the car, the slam of the door echoing like a gunshot. He sprinted through the sliding doors, his shoes slipping on the polished tile. The sterile smell of antiseptic hit him like a wall. His eyes darted around wildly, searching for anyone, someone who could help.

“Nurse! Please, I need help! She’s—she’s having the baby, her water broke!” His voice cracked, high-pitched and frantic.

A nurse behind the desk glanced up, her expression immediately shifting to concern. “Where is she?”

“Out front! Please hurry!” His chest heaved, his vision swimming.

The nurse nodded to an orderly, who grabbed a wheelchair and followed Mike at a brisk pace. He jogged back outside, his lungs burning. Ashley was still standing by the car, one hand on her belly, her eyes squeezed shut. She looked so small, so fragile, that a fresh wave of fear crashed over him.

They eased her into the wheelchair, and as they pushed her through the doors, Mike stood there for a moment, frozen. The car sat idling, the door still open, the hospital bag and car seat forgotten in the back. 

This is it, he thought, his breath catching in his throat. There’s no turning back.

He swallowed hard, the weight of everything pressing down on him until it felt like he might shatter. And then, with trembling hands and a hollow ache in his chest, he went to park the car, leaving his old life behind.

Mike’s legs felt like they were made of lead as he paced the cold, sterile waiting area. It had been two hours since they’d arrived, and every minute felt like an eternity. The ticking of the clock on the wall was relentless, each second stretching longer than the last. He clenched his fists, his nails digging painfully into his palms. It was the only thing keeping him from completely unraveling.

Please, let everything be okay. Please, just let her be okay.

The doctor’s words replayed in his mind over and over again like a broken record: The umbilical cord is wrapped around the baby’s head. We need to do an emergency C-section. Each syllable struck him like a hammer blow. His chest felt tight, his lungs straining for air. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He thought they’d have time to figure it out, time to be scared together. But now everything was spiraling out of control, and he couldn’t stop it.

When they handed him a set of sterile blue scrubs and a mask, his hands trembled so badly he struggled to pull the fabric over his clothes. The world outside the surgery room was a blur, a smear of white walls and cold, metallic surfaces. Nothing felt real. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else.

He was ushered into the operating room, the bright lights glaring down at him. The smell of antiseptic was sharp, almost suffocating. He stood next to Ashley, who lay on the table, her face pale, beads of sweat clinging to her forehead. Her eyes were distant, locked on some invisible point on the ceiling. Her jaw was clenched so tightly that he could see the tension in her neck.

Mike reached out a trembling hand to hers, desperate to offer some kind of comfort, some connection in the chaos. But she flinched away, pushing his hand aside. The rejection stung, but he swallowed it down. He knew she was in her own world of pain and fear.

She’s scared. We’re both scared.

He turned his gaze to the surgical drape that hid the lower half of Ashley’s body. The thought of what was happening beyond that blue sheet twisted his stomach into knots. The quiet, methodical voices of the doctors and nurses felt surreal as they worked, their hands hidden from view.

And then, he saw it. The smallest movement on the other side of the drape. The briefest glimpse of something he couldn’t comprehend. His breath hitched as a wave of nausea rolled through him. They were cutting her open, pulling his child from her body. Ashley was awake, conscious of everything happening, and he couldn’t do anything but stand there, useless.

Minutes felt like hours. His pulse roared in his ears, a deafening drumbeat of fear. He stared at Ashley’s face, her eyes squeezed shut, her lips trembling slightly. He wanted to say something, to reassure her, but no words came. There was nothing he could say that would make this okay.

Then, a sound broke through the suffocating silence. A cry. High-pitched, raw, and beautiful.

Mike’s knees nearly buckled beneath him. His breath came out in a shuddering gasp, his chest loosening just enough to let in a sliver of air. That sound—fragile and perfect—was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. His heart clenched painfully, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

He turned, expecting them to place the baby on Ashley’s chest, expecting that moment he’d seen in movies where everything would suddenly be okay. But instead, they whisked the baby away to a nearby table. The harsh overhead lights reflected off the metallic surface, and his stomach plummeted.

A nurse quickly, efficiently began wiping the baby down, her small limbs flailing weakly. Then, they placed a tiny oxygen mask over her face.

Panic seized his chest like a vise. The air was suddenly too thick, the walls of the room pressing in on him. He stumbled forward, his voice breaking. “What—what’s wrong? What’s happening?”

A doctor looked up, eyes calm behind a surgical mask. “She’s okay,” he said gently. “She just needs a little help with her breathing. She’ll be fine, I promise.”

The words were supposed to be reassuring, but they felt like a lifeline barely keeping him afloat. His legs wobbled, relief crashing over him in a wave so strong it almost knocked him down. He sucked in a shaky breath, the tears he’d been holding back slipping down his cheeks.

He didn’t care.

The nurse glanced over and gave him a soft smile behind her mask. “You can come see her now,” she said.

His feet moved before his brain caught up, carrying him to the table. The world around him faded away until all that was left was the tiny, squirming bundle before him. His breath caught in his throat as he saw her—really saw her—for the first time.

Her skin was slightly red and blotchy, her head covered in a fine layer of damp hair. Her tiny fists were clenched, her face scrunched up in indignation at the world she’d just entered. She was imperfect and wrinkly and utterly beautiful.

A laugh bubbled up in his chest, half a sob, half pure joy. “Hey there,” he whispered, his voice breaking. His fingers trembled as he reached out, hesitant, terrified of hurting her. He brushed the back of his knuckle gently against her cheek. Her skin was soft, impossibly delicate.

In that moment, everything else melted away. The fear, the panic, the uncertainty—they all faded to the background. All that mattered was her. His baby girl. His daughter.

Tears blurred his vision, but he didn’t care. He blinked them away, desperate to take in every detail of her tiny face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth open as she let out another weak cry. But she was here. She was alive.

He swallowed hard, his chest aching. He didn’t know how he was going to do this, didn’t know if he was ready. But staring at her, he knew one thing with absolute certainty.

He would do anything for her. Absolutely anything.

“Welcome to the world,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’ve got you. I promise.”

And for the first time in hours, his heart felt steady.

Chapter Text

Mike’s arms ached from cradling the baby, but he refused to set her down. He watched the rise and fall of her tiny chest, the way her delicate fingers curled into her blanket. She looked so fragile, so innocent. Her soft breaths were steady and reassuring, but his own chest felt like it was collapsing.

He glanced over at Ashley, who was staring blankly at the hospital room television, the flickering screen casting shadows over her pale face. Her eyes were empty, glazed over with a distance he couldn’t reach. He had tried—God, he had tried—to break through to her, to share the overwhelming joy and fear of bringing their daughter into the world. But she remained a wall of indifference.

He remembered the first time he gently laid the baby in her arms. The way her body stiffened, her lips pursing in a grimace, like the tiny girl in her lap was a burden she couldn’t wait to shed. Ashley didn’t even look down; she stared straight ahead, her arms going limp until Mike, heart pounding, scooped the baby back up before she could slip through.

“Ashley,” he had whispered, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. “Please. She needs you.”

But Ashley had just shrugged. “I’m tired, Mike.”

We’re both tired, he thought bitterly, his grip on their daughter tightening just a little. He hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours since the delivery. Every cry jolted him awake, and every moment was a struggle to learn what his baby girl needed. Diaper changes, feeding times, soothing her tiny sobs—all of it fell on his shoulders. And he did it gladly, even through the exhaustion, because the alternative—letting her suffer, letting her feel unwanted—was unbearable.

The nurses saw it too. Mike didn’t miss their glances, the way their brows creased with concern or pity when Ashley refused to hold the baby or acknowledge her. He’d catch them watching when he gently encouraged Ashley to try breastfeeding, his voice raw with hope. They’d linger just a bit longer, their eyes soft with unspoken sympathy when Ashley turned her head away, rolling her eyes.

“It’s not gonna work, Mike,” she’d said flatly. “She doesn’t need me.”

But Mike needed her. He needed her to care, to show some flicker of love for the tiny life they’d created. He needed to know he wasn’t in this alone, that he hadn’t just doomed his daughter to a life where one parent would always be absent—even when she was right there.

He felt like he was drowning. Each refusal, each disinterested shrug from Ashley was another weight dragging him deeper into the depths. His arms were full, but his heart felt impossibly empty. He was trying to tread water, to keep them both afloat, but the exhaustion was seeping into his bones.

She’s just in shock, he told himself over and over. It’s the trauma from the c-section. She just needs time to recover. She’ll come around.

He clung to that hope like a lifeline. Maybe once they were home, away from the hospital walls and sterile smells, things would change. Maybe when Ashley held their baby girl in the quiet of their apartment, when the reality of her tiny existence settled in, she’d finally feel what he felt—the crushing, beautiful weight of love and responsibility.

But every time he looked at her blank face, that hope cracked a little more. The fear that she wouldn’t change, that she’d keep turning away, settled in his gut like a stone.

The baby stirred in his arms, a soft whimper escaping her lips. He immediately swayed side to side, whispering, “Shh, it’s okay. Daddy’s here.” The words tumbled out before he realized what he was saying. Daddy. The title felt enormous, terrifying, but it was his now. His to bear, no matter how scared he was.

Her whimpers faded, and her little face scrunched up before relaxing again. He let out a shaky breath, pressing his lips to her downy forehead. The warmth of her skin against his lips soothed him, a momentary balm to the storm inside.

He looked back at Ashley, who was now flipping through the channels, the remote clicking rhythmically in her hand. The disconnect was jarring. How could she be so far away when everything was happening right here? How could she not see the miracle in his arms, the life they were supposed to nurture together?

“Hey, Ash,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “Do you want to try holding her again? Just for a little bit?”

Ashley’s eyes didn’t leave the screen. “I said no, Mike.”

The finality in her voice crushed him. He wanted to scream, to beg her to see them, to be part of this. But all he could do was nod, swallowing the ache in his throat.

The nurse walked in then, a warm smile on her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “How’s everything going, Mike?” she asked gently, her gaze flicking to Ashley for the briefest of moments.

Mike forced a smile, though it felt like his face might crack. “We’re… we’re doing okay.”

She nodded, but he saw the doubt there. “Let me know if you need anything, all right?” Her hand brushed his shoulder, a quiet gesture of support, before she left the room.

He felt a lump form in his throat. He didn’t know what he needed. He didn’t know how to fix this. All he knew was that his baby needed him, and he couldn’t afford to fall apart.

But as he looked down at her tiny, sleeping face, he wondered how long he could keep this up. How long before the exhaustion and fear swallowed him whole? How long before he couldn’t pretend everything was fine?

Please, Ashley, he thought desperately. Please love her. Please care.

But the room stayed quiet, filled only with the sound of the television and the steady rhythm of his baby’s breaths.

And Mike held on, because there was no other choice.

Chapter Text

May 6th, 1990

Mike cradled his daughter close to his chest, the steady rhythm of her breathing anchoring him in the chaos of his mind. He’d named her Aurora Melody Wheeler—Rory for short. The name had come to him in a quiet moment when Ashley’s apathy had left a hollow space where hope should have been. He’d whispered it to his daughter, testing the sound of it in the sterile hospital air. When Ashley didn’t care enough to agree or disagree, he took it as permission.

Now, as the early morning sun filtered through the blinds, he studied Rory’s tiny features while feeding her. She was so beautiful it took his breath away. Her hair was thick and pitch black, just like his, soft tufts curling slightly at the ends. But her eyes… those eyes were a shade of green that made something twist in his chest. They looked like Will’s eyes. He shook the thought away as quickly as it came, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

They were still in the hospital. The doctors wanted to be sure Rory was healthy and that Ashley had recovered enough from the C-section to go home. They were supposed to leave tomorrow. We’ll be a family, he kept telling himself. It’ll get better once we’re home.

A gentle knock pulled him from his thoughts. The nurse peeked in, her warm smile a small comfort. “Mr. Wheeler, we’re ready for her hearing test and footprints.”

Mike nodded, his heart fluttering with nerves. “Okay, give me a sec.” He turned to Ashley, who was lying in bed, staring out the window. “Ash, we’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

She barely glanced at them. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice devoid of any emotion.

It stung more than he wanted to admit. But he focused on Rory, carefully handing her to the nurse. As they walked down the hall, his hand hovered near the bassinet, needing to be close, to protect her.

The hearing test was quick, and the relief that washed over him when she passed was immense. Then came the heel prick. Rory’s face crumpled, and she let out a pained wail. His entire body tensed, every instinct screaming at him to take her away. He clenched his jaw and whispered soothing words until it was over. The nurse smiled apologetically as they moved on to the tiny ink footprints. When he asked if he could have a copy, she kindly agreed, pressing her little feet onto a piece of paper just for him.

Finally, the nurse handed Rory back to him. “She’s all good to go,” she said softly.

“Thank you.” He held his daughter tightly, walking back to the room with a fragile sense of calm. But when he stepped inside, something was wrong. The bed was empty.

“Ashley?” he called, his voice tight.

The bathroom door was open. Empty.

Confusion turned to panic, a cold, sharp wave crashing through his chest. He rushed back into the hall, his heart pounding. “Have you seen Ashley?” he asked the nurses at the station, his voice trembling. “Did she go for any tests?”

Their faces fell, their eyes filled with the kind of pity that made his stomach drop. “No,” one nurse said gently. “We haven’t seen her.”

Dread gnawed at his insides as he stumbled back into the room. That’s when he saw it. A piece of paper on the table beside the bed. His hand shook as he picked it up.

You can keep the baby.

The words blurred as his vision filled with tears. He read it again, hoping, praying, that he’d misunderstood. But the meaning was clear. She was gone. She had walked away, leaving them behind.

His knees buckled, and he barely managed to set Rory in the bassinet before he collapsed into the chair. His breath came in ragged gasps, the walls of the room closing in on him.

A nurse entered, her voice soft with concern. “Mike, what happened?”

“She… she left.” His voice cracked. He handed her the note, his fingers numb. “She left us.”

The nurse’s face crumpled. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Can’t you call someone? The cops? She can’t just leave like this!” Desperation clawed at his throat.

The nurse shook her head sadly. “Because of the Safe Haven laws, we can’t force her to come back. Legally, she can surrender the baby if she doesn’t want to be a parent.”

The room tilted, his world splintering apart. Safe Haven laws. Just words on paper, but they sealed his fate. He was alone now. Completely and utterly alone.

Tears spilled down his cheeks. He turned to Rory, her tiny face peaceful in sleep, unaware of the storm that had just descended on her world. How could Ashley do this? How could she abandon something so precious, so perfect?

A sob escaped his lips, but he clamped his hand over his mouth, muffling the sound. He had to be strong. For her.

Wiping his face, he stood and leaned over the bassinet, brushing a trembling finger against Rory’s cheek. “It’s just us now, baby girl, ” he whispered. “I promise I won’t leave you. Ever.”

The weight of that promise settled heavily on his shoulders. He was terrified—of the future, of failing her, of the loneliness that stretched ahead. But as he looked at her, something else flickered beneath the fear.

Determination.

He would do this. He had to do this. Because she deserved love. She deserved someone who wouldn’t turn away.

Even if it killed him, he’d give her everything.

“Daddy’s got you,” he whispered, his voice steadying. “And he always will.”

Chapter Text

May 7th, 1990

Mike stood in the small, pale-blue hospital room, his arms aching from exhaustion as he cradled Rory against his chest. The discharge process was supposed to be straightforward, but for him, it was like preparing for an expedition to the moon with no guide, no map, and barely any air to breathe. Panic coiled in his gut like a living thing, and his fingers trembled slightly as he adjusted Rory’s tiny blanket.

The nurses bustled around him, their voices kind and patient, but their words felt like they were coming through a fog. He tried his hardest to focus, but his mind kept slipping back to Ashley, to the note, to the way everything had unraveled so quickly.

“Okay, Mike,” Nurse Jenkins said softly, drawing his attention back. Her smile was warm but tinged with a sadness he couldn’t quite face. She crouched in front of him and the car seat, her hands carefully showing him the straps. “You want the straps snug, but not too tight. See how I can slip just two fingers under here?” She demonstrated, adjusting the belt across Rory’s tiny chest. “That’s how you know it’s secure without being uncomfortable.”

Mike nodded, his throat dry. Two fingers. Okay. I can remember that. He took a deep breath, trying to absorb every detail. He couldn’t afford to mess this up.

“Now, when you put her in the car,” Nurse Jenkins continued, “make sure the car seat is at the right angle. Her head needs to stay supported, and the base needs to be locked in properly. If it’s too loose, it could slide around.” She pressed down on the seat, showing him how it shouldn’t budge.

He nodded again, his eyes flicking to Rory’s peaceful face. He was terrified to move her, terrified to breathe wrong around her.

“Don’t worry, Mike. You’re doing great,” she reassured him, sensing his tension. “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Everyone does.”

Everyone, he thought bitterly. Everyone except Ashley.

He swallowed the lump in his throat as another nurse approached with a clipboard. “Alright, let’s go over the basics one more time,” she said gently. “Feeding every two to three hours, even if she’s sleeping. Newborns need to eat frequently because their little stomachs can’t hold much.”

He nodded, feeling like his brain was crammed full of facts that might leak out at any second. Every two to three hours. Got it.

“After feeding, you’ll need to burp her. Hold her upright against your shoulder or sit her on your lap and gently pat her back. You might not get a burp every time, but don’t worry. Just give it a few minutes. And remember, spitting up is normal, but if you see a lot or she seems in pain, call the doctor.”

Mike’s heart pounded. Burp her. Don’t let her choke. Watch for pain. His mind raced through scenarios where he’d miss something important, something that could hurt her.

“Changing her diaper should be done every two to three hours, or whenever it’s wet or dirty,” the nurse continued. “Make sure to clean her thoroughly to prevent diaper rash. Use the ointment if you see any redness.”

She handed him a small packet of ointment, and he clutched it like it was a lifeline.

“Bathing can wait a few days,” Nurse Jenkins added. “For now, just sponge-bathe her gently. Don’t submerge her until the umbilical stump falls off. And always keep one hand on her during bath time. Newborns can be slippery.”

Mike’s head was spinning. Feeding, burping, changing, bathing. It was like his entire life was being rewritten in these steps, and there was no room for mistakes. His eyes darted between the nurses, his breathing shallow. He wanted to scream that he couldn’t do it, that he wasn’t ready, that someone needed to help him because he was just a kid. But instead, he nodded, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

The kind nurse reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Remember, Mike, you can call us anytime. The nurses’ station is always here for questions. You’re not alone.”

But I am alone, he thought bitterly. He glanced at Rory’s tiny face, her dark hair peeking out from beneath her hat. She looked so fragile, so innocent, and he felt like a giant standing on a cliff’s edge, about to fall. His chest tightened painfully. She’s counting on you. You can’t fall. Not now.

When everything was finally explained, and the last of the paperwork was signed, it was time to go. Mike’s legs felt like lead as he carried Rory in her car seat toward the elevator. The nurses’ words echoed in his mind, a swirling storm of instructions he was terrified he’d forget.

He took careful steps down the hallway, every movement deliberate, as if one wrong move might shatter the world. Each glance from a passing nurse or doctor felt like a spotlight on his failure, on the fact that he was an nineteen-year-old boy who was supposed to be ready for something men twice his age struggled with.

Finally, they reached the car. The wind hit his face, cold and sharp, as he placed the car seat in the back, double and triple-checking the straps. His hands shook as he clicked the buckle into place.

When Rory was settled, Mike slid into the driver’s seat. The door shut with a heavy finality. Silence wrapped around him, broken only by the faint rustle of the blanket behind him. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white, his forehead falling onto the cool, smooth plastic. The panic he’d held back all morning surged forward, crashing into him with relentless force.

What the hell am I doing? The thought screamed in his mind. How did I end up here?

Tears burned in his eyes, but he squeezed them shut, refusing to let them fall. He couldn’t break down now. Rory didn’t need a broken dad. She needed someone strong, someone who could protect her, even if he felt like he was crumbling inside.

His breath came in short gasps. The weight on his chest was suffocating, pressing him down into the seat. He wanted to run, to scream, to disappear. But he couldn’t. He turned his head just enough to see Rory through the mirror, her tiny form swaddled in the car seat, her eyes closed in peaceful oblivion. She trusted him. Completely.

He forced a long breath in, then out. You can’t fail her. You won’t.

“Okay,” he whispered to himself, his voice shaking. “Okay. We’ve got this. I’ve got this.”

His heart still pounded, and the fear still gnawed at the edges of his resolve, but he took another deep breath, gripped the wheel tighter, and turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life. The world outside moved on, indifferent to his terror.

He glanced back at Rory one more time. “We’re going home, baby girl,” he whispered. “I don’t know how, but we’ll figure this out. I promise.”

With trembling hands and a heart full of fear, Mike pulled out of the parking lot, into a world that felt bigger and scarier than ever before. But he wasn’t turning back. Not now. Not ever.

Mike pushed open the apartment door, balancing Rory’s car seat in one hand and the diaper bag slung over his shoulder. The weight felt unbearable, not just physically but emotionally too. He stepped inside, his heart pounding, and gently set Rory’s car seat on the floor near the bassinet he’d managed to get a few weeks ago. He unbuckled her and picked her little body up and gently set her in the bassinet. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. They were home. His and Rory’s home.

As he looked around, his stomach dropped. The apartment felt emptier than it had when he left. Ashley had been here, that much was clear — everything of hers was gone. The closet door was slightly ajar, and dread shot through him as he rushed over to it. His hands trembled as he reached up to the shelf where he kept the envelope with the money he’d been saving.

He let out a shaky breath of relief when he saw the envelope still there. But something else caught his eye — another envelope, smaller, labeled in Ashley’s handwriting: I’m sorry, Mike. His fingers felt numb as he tore it open. Inside, he found a wad of cash — $912. He blinked at it, a hollow ache swelling in his chest.

Relief mixed with bitterness. He clenched the envelope in his hand, his jaw tight. At least the money would cover rent for the next two months. That bought him a little time. But it didn’t change the reality. She was gone. She’d left him to do this all on his own.

A sharp, sudden cry pierced through his spiraling thoughts. Rory. He spun around, his heart lurching. She was in the bassinet, her face scrunched up and red, her tiny fists waving in distress.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Mike whispered, scooping her up carefully. The warmth of her little body against his chest grounded him, but the fear still gnawed at the edges of his mind. He rocked her gently, patting her back.

He glanced at his watch — it was feeding time. The nurses had drilled the schedule into him: every two to three hours, like clockwork. He set Rory back in the bassinet just long enough to grab one of the bottles the hospital had sent home with him. He could almost hear the nurses’ voices reminding him how to warm it up properly, not too hot, just enough to take the chill off.

He ran the bottle under warm water, testing a few drops on the inside of his wrist. When it felt right, he picked Rory up again, cradling her in his arm as he settled onto the edge of the bed. The weight of exhaustion was catching up to him, but he forced it back. Rory needed him.

She latched onto the bottle, her cries fading into soft, contented gulps. Mike’s shoulders sagged a little, the tension easing just a fraction. He watched her with a mixture of awe and fear. Her eyes were half-closed, dark lashes fanning out against her cheeks. The tiny rise and fall of her chest, the warmth of her in his arms — it felt so fragile, so overwhelming.

As she finished the bottle, Mike lifted her to his shoulder, patting her back gently until he heard a soft burp. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. One task down. Hundreds more to go.

He looked around the apartment — the bare walls, the empty space where Ashley’s things used to be. It was just the two of them now. He’d known it was going to be hard, but this… this was terrifying. What if he messed up? What if he wasn’t enough for her? The doubts clawed at his mind, relentless and cold.

But then he looked down at Rory, now asleep against his shoulder, her tiny fingers curled into a fist near his collarbone. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in the soft baby scent. His eyes stung, but he blinked away the tears. There was no room for falling apart. Rory needed him to hold it together, so he would. One day, one task, one moment at a time.

He stood up, cradling her close, and whispered, “We’re gonna be okay, Rory. I promise.”

Once he was sure Rory was settled and wouldn’t wake, Mike took careful steps toward the crib. He lowered her in with a tenderness he didn’t know he was capable of, his hands lingering for a moment as he watched her sleep. The crib was simple, something he’d picked up from a second-hand store weeks ago. The paint was chipped in places, and the wood had a few scuffs, but it was sturdy. He wished Will was here. Will could make anything look better, his artistic touch turning even the most battered things into something beautiful. He could already imagine Will painting little stars or clouds on the crib, something soft and gentle, something that would make it feel like hers.

But that thought felt like too much. Too much to wish for. Too much to hope for. He shook his head, chasing away the ache that tried to creep in. This was his reality now. He couldn’t rely on wishes.

He walked out of the bedroom quietly, closing the door just enough to block the noise but leave a gap to hear her if she cried. The apartment was dim, the weight of the afternoon sun casting slanted shadows on the walls. He headed to the kitchen, the worn linoleum cool beneath his feet. The phone was mounted on the wall, a relic that felt more like a lifeline now. He glanced at the clock — he had to make the call. He couldn’t afford to lose his job, not now.

He took a steadying breath and dialed the number he knew by heart. The line buzzed before a familiar, gruff voice picked up.

“Delgado’s Market, Mr. Delgado speaking.”

Mike swallowed the lump in his throat. “Hi, Mr. Delgado. It’s Mike Wheeler.”

“Mike!” Mr. Delgado’s tone warmed immediately. “I was wondering when I’d hear from you. Everything okay?”

Mike’s fingers curled around the phone cord. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well… the baby was born.” His voice wavered slightly, but he pushed on. “I, uh, need to take my leave. The mother… she left. It’s just me now.”

There was a pause on the other end, a heavy silence that made Mike’s heart pound. Then Mr. Delgado sighed, a mix of sympathy and understanding. “I’m sorry to hear that, kid. But listen, you’ve earned this. You’ve been one of my hardest workers. Take the six weeks, and don’t worry — your job will be here when you’re ready.”

Relief flooded Mike’s chest, a pressure lifting just enough to let him breathe. “Thank you, Mr. Delgado. Really. I appreciate it.”

“You’ve got this, Mike,” Mr. Delgado said, his voice firm. “And if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

A small smile tugged at Mike’s lips. It was the first thing that had gone right in days. “Thanks,” he said again before hanging up.

The quiet settled in again, and Mike sat down at the small, wobbly kitchen table. The surface was scratched, a few water rings from forgotten glasses marking the wood. He rubbed his eyes, exhaustion pressing against the edges of his mind, but there was no time to give in.

He grabbed a small, crumpled piece of paper and a pencil, staring at the blank sheet for a moment before jotting down the essentials the nurses had drilled into his head.

•Diapers (more than he thought possible)

•Wipes (the kind that wouldn’t irritate her skin)

•Formula (he had a week’s supply, but that would go fast)

•Bottles and nipples (extras, just in case)

•Baby soap (gentle, unscented)

•Clothes (onesies, socks, little hats)

•Blankets (soft, warm, but not too heavy)

He paused, tapping the pencil against the table. The basics would get them by, but he needed to stretch every dollar. The money Ashley left would cover rent for a while, but after that… he’d have to figure it out.

He made a mental note to swing by the second-hand store. Baby clothes were almost always in good shape since kids grew out of them so fast.

He’s sure whatever he picks out his mom would probably think was ridiculous, let’s just say he has no clue how to dress a little girl.  A pang of homesickness hit him, but he pushed it away. He couldn’t think about that now.

The apartment felt too quiet, the silence pressing in on him. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. The weight of everything — the exhaustion, the fear, the overwhelming sense of responsibility — was a boulder on his shoulders. He closed his eyes, just for a second, letting the darkness wash over him.

But then a soft noise came from the bedroom, a tiny whimper that made his heart squeeze. Rory.

Mike took a deep breath, pushing the weight down, locking it away. He folded the list and tucked it into his pocket. There wasn’t time to fall apart. He had things to do, and a little girl who needed him.

He stood up, the chair scraping softly against the floor. He’d wait until Rory woke up fully, change her, feed her, and then they’d head out. One step at a time. One moment at a time. That was all he could do.

Chapter Text

The day was warm, the sun casting soft shadows on the cracked sidewalks as Mike carefully tucked Rory into the little stroller he’d picked up at a local flea market. It wasn’t brand new, but it was sturdy enough, and the faded blue fabric looked almost cheerful. He adjusted the straps to make sure she was snug and secure, a habit he was quickly developing. Rory stirred a bit, her tiny face scrunching up before she settled back into sleep, the motion of the stroller soothing her.

Mike took a deep breath, gripping the stroller’s handle. Walking seemed like the best option — gas was expensive, and he needed to save every cent. Plus, the fresh air would probably be good for both of them. Maybe it would clear his mind, at least a little. As they moved down the street, the familiar sights of his neighborhood blurred together: the old brick buildings, the worn-out benches, the corner store with the faded awning. He kept glancing down at Rory, his heart swelling and twisting at the same time. She was so small, so fragile, and yet she made everything feel heavier — more real.

When they reached the grocery store, Mike paused just outside the entrance. He checked Rory again, brushing his fingers lightly across her cheek. She was still sleeping, her tiny hands curled into fists. He took out the crumpled list from his pocket and straightened up. He could do this. One step at a time.

Inside the store, the familiar smell of produce, cleaning supplies, and something vaguely metallic greeted him. He maneuvered the stroller carefully through the aisles, glancing back at the list and picking up what he needed. Bottles of baby soap, packs of formula, and soft blankets were tucked into the compartment beneath the stroller. It was almost full, but he still needed the most important things: diapers and wipes.

He rolled into the diaper aisle, scanning the shelves, mentally calculating the cost of each pack. Just as he bent down to grab a pack of newborn diapers, a familiar voice called out behind him.

“Mike! Hey!”

Mike turned to see Mr. Delgado, his manager, walking toward him with a warm smile. Mr. Delgado was a middle-aged man with graying hair and kind eyes that always seemed to understand more than he let on.

“How are you, son?” Mr. Delgado asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Mike straightened up, offering a small smile. “I’m doing okay.”

Mr. Delgado’s gaze shifted down to the stroller, and his eyes softened. “Oh, is this the little one?”

Mike nodded, the smile on his face growing just a little wider. “Yeah, this is Rory.”

Mr. Delgado leaned down slightly, peering at the sleeping baby. “She’s beautiful, Mike. Congratulations.”

A warmth spread through Mike’s chest. “Thanks.”

“What are you looking for today?” Mr. Delgado asked, straightening up.

“Just baby necessities,” Mike said, glancing at the list again. “Things I didn’t get before.”

Mr. Delgado nodded knowingly. “What’s left on your list?”

“Diapers and wipes,” Mike replied.

Mr. Delgado smiled and clapped Mike gently on the shoulder. “Okay, grab them. I’ll check you out.”

Mike hesitated for a second before picking out the diapers and wipes he needed, making sure to grab the most economical options. He followed Mr. Delgado to the front of the store, pushing the stroller carefully. As Mr. Delgado scanned the items, Mike dug into his pocket for the cash Ashley had left. He started to hand the bills over, but Mr. Delgado held up a hand.

“Hold on a second.”

Mike watched in confusion as Mr. Delgado pressed a few buttons on the register. The total on the screen dropped drastically, cutting the cost by more than half.

His eyes widened. “What—what did you do?”

Mr. Delgado smiled, his eyes kind. “I gave you the prices I pay for this stuff. It’s the least I can do, Mike.”

A lump formed in Mike’s throat, and he swallowed hard. “Thank you. Really. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Mr. Delgado replied. “You’re a good kid, Mike. And a good dad, too.”

Mike blinked, his eyes stinging slightly. He took the bags, carefully arranging them in the stroller. “Thanks again, Mr. Delgado.”

“Anytime, son,” Mr. Delgado said, waving as Mike headed out the door.

The walk back to the apartment felt lighter somehow, even with the weight of the bags. He glanced down at Rory, her face peaceful in sleep, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. His heart swelled, a mix of love, fear, and determination.

Even though everything felt uncertain, even though he was terrified about what the future held, he couldn’t deny the happiness that bloomed inside him every time he looked at her. His beautiful Aurora. His Rory.

He smiled softly. “See? What’d I tell you..We’ve got this,” he whispered. 

Chapter Text

Five weeks had flown by in a blur of sleepless nights and quiet moments that made Mike’s heart ache with both joy and exhaustion. But the reality he’d been dreading had finally arrived: he had to go back to work the following week. Trying to find a daycare that would accept a baby as young as Rory had been pure hell. His options had dwindled rapidly, each place turning him away with apologies and polite, pitying glances. He was down to the last daycare within a reasonable distance from both his apartment and his job, and he could feel the weight of desperation sitting heavy on his shoulders.

Walking into the daycare, the sterile scent of cleaning supplies mixed with faint notes of baby powder did little to calm his nerves. In his right hand, he carried Rory’s car seat, the weight of her little body grounding him. In his left hand, he clutched a stack of documents: her birth certificate, vaccination records, and his own identification. He was prepared, or at least as prepared as someone in his position could be.

Approaching the front desk, Mike took a steadying breath. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman with soft eyes and graying hair, greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hi there,” she said gently. “How can I help you today?”

Mike cleared his throat. “I need to see if you have any spots available for my daughter. I need care starting next week.” His voice was steady, but there was a tremor beneath it he couldn’t quite hide.

The woman nodded and started typing into her computer. After a few moments, she looked up, her expression hesitant. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. We don’t have any room as of right now—at least not until next month.”

His heart sank like a stone. “Please,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Could you double-check? I’m a college student, and I have to go back to work. I—I’m a single dad. I don’t have any other options.”

The woman’s eyes softened, and she exchanged a glance with her colleague behind the desk. But when she looked back at him, her expression hadn’t changed. “I wish we could help, truly. But we’re full. The earliest we can take her is next month.”

Mike swallowed the lump in his throat and forced a nod. “Thank you anyway,” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. He turned to leave, his chest tightening painfully, the pressure of tears building behind his eyes.

“Wait a second, hon,” the woman called softly. He turned back, blinking rapidly to hold back his tears. She beckoned him closer and leaned in, her voice low and kind. “Give me a piece of paper.”

Confused but hopeful, Mike fumbled in his pocket for an old receipt and handed it to her. She scribbled something down and handed it back—a phone number.

“This is my number, okay?” she said, her voice soothing. “And here—” She slid another scrap of paper toward him. “Write your number down for me.”

He did as she asked, his hands trembling slightly.

She smiled gently. “I have a daughter who’s looking for temporary work. She’s good with kids. I’ll see if I can convince her to help you out with little Aurora.”

A surge of relief washed through him, so overwhelming he nearly sagged under its weight. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” His voice wavered, the sincerity pouring out of him.

The woman held up a hand, her smile kind but cautious. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do my best.”

Mike nodded, clutching the pieces of paper like they were lifelines. He glanced down at Rory, still sleeping soundly in her car seat, oblivious to the storm of uncertainty swirling around them.

As he stepped outside, the cool air hit his face, and he took a shaky breath. For the first time in hours, a small sliver of hope pierced through his anxiety. He prayed silently that this woman’s daughter would say yes. He needed a break, just one break, for both their sakes.

Rory stirred slightly, her tiny fingers curling into fists beneath the soft blanket. Mike leaned down and brushed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Two days had passed, and each hour felt longer than the last. Mike sat at the kitchen table, his fingers drumming anxiously against the surface, eyes flicking to the phone every few minutes. Rory lay in her bassinet beside him, gurgling softly in her sleep, unaware of her father’s mounting desperation. The morning sunlight crept through the thin curtains, but it did little to ease the weight pressing on his chest.

He’d spent the past forty-eight hours running scenarios through his head, each one ending in panic. What if the woman’s daughter said no? What if he couldn’t find anyone else? The thought of leaving Rory alone wasn’t an option, and the idea of losing his job made his stomach twist painfully. He needed this to work. He had to find a way.

The minutes stretched into hours, and just as defeat started to settle in his bones, the shrill ring of the phone shattered the silence.

Mike’s heart leapt into his throat. He scrambled to grab the receiver, nearly knocking it off the table in his haste. “Hello?” he answered, his voice shaky with a mix of hope and fear.

“Hi, is this Mike?” a young woman’s voice asked, polite but tentative.

“Yes, this is Mike,” he said quickly, his fingers tightening around the phone cord.

“Hey, my mom gave me your number. I’m Emily,” she said. “She told me about your situation, and I wanted to let you know I’m available to babysit for you.”

Relief surged through Mike, so sudden and overwhelming that he felt his knees go weak. He closed his eyes, a shaky breath escaping his lips. “Thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Emily’s voice was kind but businesslike. “I charge $3.50 an hour. Does that work for you?”

Mike’s mind spun. He did the quick math in his head — $3.50 an hour for an eight-hour shift, five days a week. It would eat up nearly half of his paycheck. The numbers squeezed around his brain like a vice, but he didn’t hesitate. “Yes, that works. Absolutely.”

If it meant he’d be living on sink water and ramen noodles for a while, so be it. He’d tighten the budget, skip meals if he had to. As long as Rory was safe and cared for, nothing else mattered. He could find a better job later. Somehow, he’d make it work.

“Great,” Emily said, sounding pleased. “I can start right away. What hours do you need me?”

Mike glanced at the clock and ran through his schedule in his mind. “I need someone from 12 PM to 8 PM, Monday through Friday. At least until I can get her into daycare.”

“That works for me,” she replied. “Just let me know if anything changes.”

“Thank you, Emily,” Mike said, his voice thick with gratitude. “Really. Thank you.”

“No problem, Mike,” she said. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

They exchanged a few more details before hanging up. As the dial tone buzzed in his ear, Mike let out a long, shaky breath. He set the phone down carefully and looked over at Rory. She stirred a little in her bassinet, her tiny mouth twitching as if she could sense his relief.

Mike knelt beside her, brushing a gentle finger against her soft cheek. “We’re gonna be okay, Rory,” he whispered, his voice steady with newfound determination. “I promise.”

Mike’s bones felt like they were made of lead. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on him, a constant reminder that sleep was a luxury he hadn’t been able to afford since returning to work. The past two days had blurred together—each shift at the grocery store was long, monotonous, and punctuated by the ache in his feet and the dull throb behind his eyes. But he pushed through, fueled by sheer necessity and love for Rory.

Emily had assured him that Rory was an easy baby, a joy to take care of. But even hearing that didn’t ease his gnawing guilt. Every morning, he handed her over to Emily with a forced smile, and every evening, he picked her up, weary but determined to keep everything running smoothly.

That night was no different. After a long shift, he bathed Rory with gentle, careful hands, the warm water making her eyelids droop sleepily. He fed her and placed her in the crib, whispering soft reassurances as he brushed a stray curl from her forehead. When she finally closed her eyes, Mike exhaled a sigh of relief. Maybe tonight, they’d both get some rest.

He stumbled to his bed, barely managing to pull the blanket over himself before his head hit the pillow. The cool fabric felt like heaven against his skin, and for the first time in hours, his body relaxed.

But the peace shattered in an instant. A sharp, piercing shriek jolted him awake.

Mike shot up, his heart pounding. The cries grew louder, raw and desperate, echoing off the walls of the small apartment. He rushed to the crib, scooping Rory up into his arms, his hands trembling. He rocked her gently, murmuring soothing words that he wasn’t sure were coherent.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here. Shhh, it’s okay.”

Her tiny face was scrunched in agony, her fists clenched tight. Her cries were relentless, each sob cutting deeper into his heart.

He checked her diaper—dry. He inspected her tiny body for any signs of injury—nothing. He looked into the crib, half-expecting to find something that had startled or hurt her. Nothing. Desperation clawed at his chest. He offered her the pacifier; she spat it out with a renewed wail.

“Please, Rory,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

He prepared a bottle with shaky hands, hoping she was still hungry. She refused to latch, her cries never faltering. His vision blurred with tears as he rocked her harder, praying she’d settle down. He could barely keep his eyes open, his limbs heavy with fatigue. But she kept crying, her wails intensifying like she was trapped in a pain he couldn’t reach.

The sound was unbearable. It wasn’t just the volume; it was the sheer helplessness woven into each sob. His heart cracked with every cry, knowing she was in pain and that he couldn’t fix it.

Desperation took over. He grabbed the paper with the nurses’ station number and dialed with trembling fingers. Rory’s cries filled the silence as the line rang. When someone finally answered, Mike’s words tumbled out in a rush.

“Please, she’s screaming—she won’t stop. I don’t know what’s wrong. Do I need to bring her in?”

The nurse’s voice was calm, a stark contrast to his panic. She asked him a series of questions—Did she have a fever? Was she refusing food? Were there any rashes or signs of illness? No, no, no. The answers just left him feeling more lost.

“It sounds like colic,” the nurse said gently.

“Colic?” Mike repeated, his voice cracking. “What—what do I do?”

“It’s common in infants her age,” she explained. “It means she has stomach pain, but it’s not dangerous. You can try rubbing her tummy or moving her legs gently, like she’s riding a bicycle. It might help relieve the pain.”

“But there’s nothing else?” His voice was small, desperate.

“I’m afraid not. It’s something she has to grow out of. I know it’s hard, but it’ll get better.”

The call ended, and Mike felt hollow. He set the phone down and looked at Rory’s tear-streaked face, his own eyes welling up. He lowered himself onto the couch, cradling her close, and began to rub her tiny belly, his fingers tracing gentle circles. He whispered to her, promises that things would be okay, even if he wasn’t sure they would be.

The minutes stretched into hours. Her cries finally faded into exhausted whimpers, and she fell into a fitful sleep against his chest. But Mike didn’t move. He was too scared she’d wake up again.

By morning, the sun’s pale light crept through the window. Mike’s head throbbed, his body aching from the awkward position. He felt like a ghost. When he handed Rory to Emily later that day, he barely managed a smile. Emily’s concern was evident, but he brushed it off.

That night was the same. Hours of screaming, hours of helplessness. His thoughts spiraled. I can’t do this. I’m so, so tired.

And then it hit him, cold and crushing: there was no way he could go back to college in the fall. Not with Rory needing him like this. The dream he’d clung to felt like it was slipping away, just out of reach.

He pressed his lips to Rory’s forehead, his voice a fragile whisper. “We’ll figure it out, baby. I promise.”

But doubt gnawed at him, whispering back that maybe, maybe…he couldn’t.

Chapter Text

Mike was officially sending in his letter of leave of absence for school. It was a decision he’d been putting off for a while, but now, it was finally time. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, as if the simple act of typing those words made everything feel so final. The weight of it pressed down on him, and he couldn’t escape it. A part of him had hoped things would get better—hoped that he’d be able to go back to school once he had things more figured out. Maybe when Rory was a bit older and more self-sufficient, maybe when he was more financially stable. But right now, it wasn’t possible. The thought of returning to classes, to the English degree that had once felt like his future, felt so distant, so impossible.

He had worked so hard for this. All those years, writing the perfect essays, always being the overachiever in all his honors English classes. It had felt like it was all falling into place, like everything was leading him to this degree, this life that he had envisioned. But now it felt like a waste. Like all of that time, effort, and energy had been spent on something that was never going to happen. He wasn’t getting his English degree anytime soon—or ever, if he was being honest. The frustration swelled inside him. It wasn’t fair.

Ashley had left them. She had walked away from their life and didn’t look back. She had gotten to be free. She got to leave them behind while Mike was left to pick up the pieces, alone. He wasn’t sure why it hurt so much. It wasn’t like he had ever loved Ashley, not really. All those months she had lived with him, carrying their baby, had only made one thing clear: he was gay. He had tried. He had tried to make it work because he wanted his daughter to grow up in a two-parent household. But now, even that was a distant memory. He wasn’t even sure if he could go back to school at all. It was all slipping away from him, and it made him sick to think about it.

Just as he was about to give in to the overwhelming frustration that threatened to consume him, a sharp cry rang through the apartment. Rory. His heart jumped in his chest, his body reacting automatically. He quickly pushed away from the desk and rushed toward the sound of her wailing, his steps quick and urgent. He was already running on fumes, tired from the long days of adjusting to his new life, but nothing mattered when it came to Rory. She was everything.

He reached her bassinet, where the little girl lay, her face scrunched with tears, her tiny fists clenched. She was only about two months old, but already she had a presence that Mike couldn’t ignore. He could feel his heart breaking as he picked her up, trying to comfort her with his touch. His tired eyes scanned over her, and he could tell immediately that she had spit up. The familiar sour scent hit him, and he sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging in a moment of exhaustion.

“It’s okay, baby,” Mike murmured as he lifted her gently into his arms. The weight of her small body settled against his chest, and he could feel her little chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths. She was still crying, but he could tell that she was calming down, if only a little. He didn’t know what it was, but her presence always soothed him, even when everything else seemed to fall apart around them.

He moved toward the changing table, grabbing the towel he’d set aside earlier. Everything felt more chaotic lately. He had to juggle taking care of Rory, trying to figure out finances, keeping his emotions in check, and everything else in between. But he was getting used to it, they were Mike and Rory now. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed her until she’d come into his life. The moment she had been born, Mike realized he had never known a love like it.

After setting her on the changing table and carefully removing her onesie, Mike reached for the towel and gently cleaned her up. His movements were slow and deliberate, trying to soothe her as best he could. She continued to fuss for a moment, but her cries started to quiet as he wrapped her in the soft towel and held her close. He carefully carried her to the bathroom, where he’d set up the baby tub inside the bathtub. The small plastic tub was just big enough for Rory, and Mike had been using it for her baths since she was born.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, huh?” he said softly, trying to get her attention. Her big, hazel eyes were wide, her lips still trembling, but Mike could see a hint of curiosity. He turned the faucet, adjusting the water to make sure it was warm but not too hot. He reached over and dipped his fingers into the water, feeling the temperature before settling her into the small tub.

Once he was sure the water was just right, he gently placed Rory in the baby tub, cradling her head with one hand while the other washed her little body. Her skin was still so soft, so new, and he marveled at how quickly she was growing. The water flowed over her small frame as he gently rubbed the cloth against her skin, trying to get the last of the spit-up off her. The moment the cloth touched her, her expression shifted, and Mike couldn’t help but smile.

Her little face lit up, her lips curling upward into a gummy smile. It was the most beautiful thing Mike had ever seen. No matter how tired he was, no matter how much life weighed on his shoulders, that smile would always make everything feel better. His heart soared as he continued to bathe her, his eyes glued to her face as she looked up at him, giving him one of those smiles that melted him every time.

“Look at you,” Mike whispered, his voice filled with adoration. “You’re getting so big.” Rory gurgled in response, the sound of it making Mike chuckle softly. He leaned over and kissed the top of her head, taking in the smallness of her, the warmth of her. There was something about moments like this that reminded him of what truly mattered. She was his everything. No matter what the future held, no matter how much he’d lost or how much he wished he could have things differently, he had Rory. And that was enough.

Once he was done bathing her, Mike carefully lifted Rory from the tub, using the towel to gently dry her off. Her little limbs stretched out, her face still glowing with the remnants of her smile, and Mike couldn’t help but marvel at her. He wrapped her in a clean onesie, making sure she was snug and warm. She cooed softly, her little eyes fluttering as she began to get sleepy. Mike could feel the exhaustion in his own body, but he couldn’t help but cherish these quiet moments with her. The world outside their little apartment could fall apart, but as long as he had Rory, he knew he’d be okay.

Mike laid back against the headboard of the bed, carefully settling Rory on his chest. She rested her head against him, her small body nestled into his, and Mike rubbed her back gently. The rhythmic motion of his hand seemed to lull her into a peaceful sleep, her breathing slowing as she drifted off.

It wasn’t long before her little breaths became steady and deep, signaling that she had fallen asleep. Mike stayed there, holding her, for what felt like hours. He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to let go of her. He kissed the top of her head, the soft smell of baby lotion filling his nose, and he let himself relax into the moment. He didn’t need anything more than this.

With Rory in his arms, Mike felt a sense of peace that had eluded him for months. The worries of the world seemed to fade, and in that quiet moment, he realized that this—just being with her, loving her—was enough. The future was uncertain, and the past had left him with scars, but in this moment, nothing else mattered.

Once he was sure she was asleep, Mike reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the remote. He turned the TV on to the lowest setting, the soft glow of the screen casting a quiet light over the room. He didn’t really care what was on. The noise in the background was just enough to keep him company. As he lay there with Rory, the world outside seemed so far away.

He kissed the top of her head once more and let his eyes close. He would cherish these days, these moments, because nothing else mattered. Nothing else but his sweet Aurora.

Chapter Text

October 20th, 1990

It was four months later, and everything had gone to absolute shit. For a while, Mike thought he had been managing—Rory had started daycare, and he had applied for a financial assistance program that helped cover some of the costs. The first couple of months had gone relatively smoothly, and for the first time, Mike felt like he might be getting the hang of things.

But, as it turned out, life wasn’t going to let him catch a break.

The first blow came when his car broke down. He’d been on his way to drop Rory off at daycare when the engine gave out with a loud, terrifying clunk. The tow truck driver had delivered the grim news: the car needed a whole new engine. Mike didn’t have the kind of money to pay for it outright, but he also couldn’t go without the car. There was no way he could drop Rory off and still make it to work on time without it. He maxed out his credit card to cover the repairs, and even though the car was eventually fixed, the financial setback hit him like a truck.

Just as he was trying to recover from that, he found himself falling behind on daycare payments. The assistance program helped, but it didn’t cover everything, and with his other expenses piling up, he couldn’t keep up. The daycare started sending polite but increasingly firm reminders, and each one made his stomach churn with anxiety. He knew he couldn’t afford to lose their spot—finding reliable childcare was hard enough as it was—but he had no idea where the extra money was going to come from.

And then, as if the universe wanted to test just how much he could handle, Rory started teething.

Teething was a whole new kind of hell. Rory’s gums were tender and swollen, and the pain left her completely inconsolable for hours at a time. Her cries were loud and unrelenting, and no amount of teething rings, chilled washcloths, or baby-safe pain relievers seemed to help. Mike had read everything he could about teething remedies, tried every tip and trick, but nothing worked. He hated seeing her in so much pain, hated that he couldn’t do anything to make it better.

The sleepless nights started to pile up. Rory would cry late into the night, her little face scrunched up in discomfort, and Mike would pace the apartment with her in his arms, shushing her softly even though he knew it wouldn’t help. He was barely getting any sleep himself, and it was starting to show. His eyes were red and heavy, his head constantly throbbed with stress, and he could feel his patience wearing thin.

Worse still, her tender gums meant she didn’t always want her bottle. She’d push it away with a frustrated little cry, only to wail in hunger a short while later when she was too hungry to ignore it anymore. It was a vicious cycle—teething pain kept her from eating, but hunger made her crankier, which only made everything worse. Mike didn’t know how much more he could take.

The daycare was supposed to make things a little easier, to give him a few hours to focus on work and earn the money they so desperately needed. But now, with Rory teething, he couldn’t even rely on that. The idea of leaving her at daycare when she was in so much pain made his stomach turn. What if they didn’t comfort her when she cried? What if they just left her alone in a crib while she sobbed? He couldn’t take that chance. So, on the worst days, he’d call out of work and keep her home with him, holding her close as she cried against his shoulder.

But calling out of work came with its own set of problems. His paychecks were smaller now, which only made it harder to catch up on daycare payments, credit card bills, and rent. His boss wasn’t thrilled about the missed shifts either, he was a kind man, but there was only so much kindness someone could give and Mike could feel the tension whenever they spoke. He was teetering on the edge, barely holding everything together, and every day it felt like the thread holding his life together grew thinner.

Mike sat at the kitchen table one evening, his head in his hands as Rory screamed in the background. He had tried everything—gave her another dose of the baby pain reliever, offered her a cold teething ring, even let her chew on his clean knuckles—but nothing seemed to work. The cries felt like they were echoing inside his skull, and for a brief moment, he thought he might break.

“I’m trying, Rory,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m trying so hard.”

He got up and walked over to her, scooping her up from her play mat and cradling her against his chest. She squirmed and kicked, her cries growing louder as he paced the small apartment. He rubbed her back, bouncing gently on his feet as he whispered soothing words, but it was no use. She was in pain, and nothing he did was going to change that.

Mike felt the sting of tears at the corners of his eyes, but he blinked them back. He couldn’t cry. He had to stay strong, for her. But God, it was hard. He hadn’t felt this overwhelmed since the early days after she was born when everything was new and terrifying. He thought he had gotten better at this—thought he was finally figuring out how to be a dad. But now, it felt like he was failing all over again.

By the time Rory finally cried herself to sleep, Mike was completely drained. He collapsed onto the couch, cradling her in his arms as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The apartment was quiet now, save for the soft sound of her breathing, but the silence didn’t bring him any comfort. His mind was still racing, replaying everything that had gone wrong and all the ways he was falling short.

He knew he needed to find a way to fix things. He needed to catch up on the daycare payments, figure out how to stay on top of his bills, and maybe even try to save a little money for emergencies. But it all felt impossible. No matter how hard he worked, there was always something else—a broken car, an unexpected bill, a teething baby. He was running out of energy, running out of options, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep going.

Still, as he looked down at Rory, her tiny face peaceful in sleep, he knew he couldn’t give up. She was his whole world, and no matter how hard things got, he had to keep going. For her.

Mike pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, whispering a soft, “I love you,” before leaning his head back again. He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, he was grateful for the small moment of peace. It was all he could do to hold on.

The next morning, Mike woke up to the soft cooing of Rory in her crib. He blinked groggily, the weight of exhaustion settling in his bones. The apartment was quiet except for her tiny noises, her little fists waving in the air as if trying to grab his attention.

He rubbed his face with his hands and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost 8 a.m.—a rare luxury to sleep this late, though “sleeping in” had taken on a new meaning since Rory was born. Yawning, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, the old mattress creaking under his weight. Rory’s cooing turned to a happy squeal when she saw him, her gummy smile making his chest ache with love and a pang of guilt.

“Good morning, my love,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. He reached into the crib and scooped her up, holding her close against his chest. She snuggled into him instantly, her warmth grounding him in a way nothing else could. “You’re always so happy in the morning, huh? What’s your secret?”

He kissed the top of her head, taking in the faint baby powder scent. For a moment, he stood there, swaying slightly as she giggled against his shoulder. The world outside the apartment might be chaos, but here, with Rory in his arms, he felt a fragile kind of peace.

By the time he shuffled into the kitchen, the sun had started to stream through the small window above the sink, painting the worn countertops in soft, golden light. He set Rory in her high chair and started preparing her bottle. His stomach grumbled loudly, and he glanced at the cupboard.

The last packet of ramen sat on the shelf, along with a half-empty jar of peanut butter and a box of crackers he’d been rationing for days. His mind drifted to last night—he hadn’t eaten dinner, choosing instead to stretch what little food he had left for the week.

“Maybe later,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he focused on mixing Rory’s formula. He poured it into the bottle, tested the temperature on his wrist, and handed it to her. Rory latched on immediately, drinking with the same determination that always made him smile.

“There you go,” he murmured, pulling up a chair to sit beside her. “At least one of us is eating well.”

As she drank, Mike leaned back in his chair and stared at the peeling wallpaper in the kitchen. The quiet hum of the fridge filled the space, along with Rory’s contented suckling sounds. He tried to push away the worry creeping into his chest—the unpaid bills stacked on the counter, the looming rent deadline, the persistent ache of hunger gnawing at his stomach.

Once Rory finished her bottle, Mike wiped her mouth with a burp cloth and carried her to the bedroom to change her diaper. She squirmed and giggled on the changing table, her tiny hands grabbing at his fingers.

“You’re gonna be trouble when you start crawling, aren’t you?” he teased, gently tickling her belly. She let out a delighted squeal, kicking her legs in the air. “Yeah, I see it in your eyes. You’re gonna keep me on my toes, huh?”

After dressing her in a soft pink onesie with little clouds on it, Mike sat on the edge of the bed, holding her close. He kissed her forehead and let out a deep sigh.

“Alright, kiddo,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “Let’s get out of here for a bit.”

The apartment had started to feel suffocating lately. Between the endless cycle of work, daycare drop-offs, and trying to keep everything from falling apart, the four walls felt like they were closing in. He needed air, and Rory could use the change of scenery too.

He packed her diaper bag carefully, double-checking for all the essentials: diapers, wipes, a clean onesie, bottles, and formula. He strapped her into the baby carrier on his chest, adjusting the straps until she was snug and secure, then stepped outside into the crisp October air.

The walk to the park was about an hour, but Mike didn’t mind. The chill in the air helped wake him up, and Rory seemed content for now, her wide eyes taking in the sights around them. She kicked her little feet against his chest, babbling softly every now and then.

“Yeah, it’s a nice day, isn’t it?” he said, glancing down at her. “Sunny but not too cold. Perfect park weather.”

The leaves had started to change, painting the trees in fiery shades of red, orange, and yellow. Mike found himself pausing occasionally to admire them, pointing out the brightest ones to Rory even though she couldn’t understand him yet.

“You see that one?” he said, gesturing toward a particularly vibrant maple tree. “That’s a good one, huh? Maybe we’ll come back in a few weeks when they’re all like that. I bet you’ll love it.”

They were about 45 minutes into the walk when Rory started to cry. Her tiny hands grabbed at her mouth, her face scrunching up in discomfort.

“Shit,” Mike muttered, stopping by a bench to check her. He fumbled with the straps of the carrier, carefully freeing her so he could cradle her in his arms. “What’s wrong, huh? Are your gums bothering you again?”

He rummaged through the diaper bag, his stomach sinking as he realized the teething gel wasn’t there. “Shit,” he said under his breath, looking around desperately. A CVS stood about 200 feet away, and he made a beeline for it, bouncing Rory gently in his arms as she wailed.

Once inside, he grabbed the gel and headed straight for the checkout. The cashier gave him a sympathetic smile as she scanned the item, and he offered a tired nod in return.

In the bathroom, he washed his hands thoroughly before applying the gel to Rory’s gums. She calmed almost instantly, her cries turning to soft whimpers before fading altogether.

“Better?” he asked softly, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. She blinked up at him with watery eyes, then let out a small sigh and rested her head against his chest.

Relief washed over him as he kissed the top of her head. “You’re a trooper, you know that? Tough as nails.”

As they stepped back outside, the crisp air hit him again, and his stomach rumbled loudly. He frowned, glancing down at Rory, then back toward the park. Hunger gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside.

The park wasn’t far now, and Mike picked up his pace, eager to get there and settle down. By the time they arrived, the playground was bustling with kids running and laughing, their parents chatting on nearby benches.

Mike found an empty bench near the edge of the playground and sat down, adjusting Rory in the carrier so she could face outward. She stared at the bright swings and slides, her tiny hands reaching out as if she wanted to join in.

“You like that, huh?” Mike said, smiling despite his exhaustion. “Maybe in a year or two, you’ll be out there too. Bet you’ll love the swings.”

He leaned back against the bench, letting his head rest against the wooden slats. His legs ached from the long walk, and his empty stomach churned uncomfortably, but he ignored it. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the moment—watching Rory’s fascination with the world around her, feeling the cool breeze on his face.

“Guess we’ll call this your first park day,” he said quietly, brushing his fingers against her little hand. “Not bad, huh?”

Rory babbled in response, and Mike chuckled softly.

After spending a while at the park, Mike felt the gnawing hunger in his stomach become unbearable. He’d been ignoring it for as long as he could, but now it was impossible to push aside. Each growl felt louder, more insistent, like his body was yelling at him to do something about it.

He looked down at Rory, who was kicking her little feet as she gazed around the park, her teething temporarily forgotten. He adjusted the straps of the carrier and gave her a small smile.

“Alright, kiddo,” he said softly, brushing a hand over her curls. “Time for Dad to find some food. You cool with that?”

Rory babbled in response, and he chuckled quietly, taking it as her approval. He gathered their things and started walking toward his favorite sandwich shop. It wasn’t far—only about a five-minute walk from the park—and the promise of even a simple meal was enough to make him pick up his pace.

As he approached the shop, the familiar sight of a line stretching out the door greeted him. It was always busy, no matter the time of day, but Mike didn’t mind waiting. The sandwiches were good, cheap, and filling—exactly what he needed right now.

By the time he reached the front of the line, Rory had started to fuss. Her soft whimpers grew louder, and Mike shifted her in the carrier, gently bouncing her as he tried to soothe her.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “Just a little longer, Rory. We’re almost there.”

Her cries escalated to full-blown wails just as he stepped up to the counter. The employee behind the register, a woman with dark hair tied back in a ponytail, gave him a sympathetic smile. Mike felt his face flush with embarrassment as he tried to calm Rory down.

“Hi,” he started, his voice a little rushed as he glanced over the menu. “Uh, can I get the turkey and cheese sandwich?” He paused for a moment, as if considering. “Actually, no, just the ham and cheese, please. Uh—on white bread. And no mustard.”

The employee nodded as she rang up the order, Rory’s cries continuing to fill the small shop.

“And can I get, uh… a water cup, too?” Mike added quickly, adjusting Rory in the carrier as her little fists balled up in frustration.

“Sure,” the employee said with a kind smile, punching the numbers into the register. “That’ll be $1.75.”

Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, flipping it open. He froze when he saw the lone dollar bill inside. His heart sank, a wave of frustration and humiliation washing over him.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. He glanced up at the worker, his cheeks burning. “Uh, hold on a second,” he said, forcing a tight smile.

He pulled off his backpack, setting it on the counter as he dug through the front pocket. His fingers scrambled for the loose change he knew was in there, the sound of coins clinking together only adding to his growing embarrassment. Rory’s cries echoed in his ears, drawing glances from the people behind him in line.

“Almost got it,” he said, more to himself than anyone else, as he tried to count out the change with shaky hands.

Before he could finish, a voice from behind him spoke up.

“Here, I got it.”

Mike froze, his head snapping up slightly, but he didn’t turn around. The heat of embarrassment crept up his neck, and he shook his head quickly.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, keeping his eyes on his hands as he continued to dig through the pocket. “I’ve got it.”

“It’s really fine,” the voice said again, calm and insistent. “I’ve got it.”

Mike sighed, his stomach twisting in equal parts frustration and shame. He finally straightened, turning around to thank the stranger, but the words died on his lips.

His heart dropped.

Standing there, holding out two dollar bills with a look of cautious disbelief, was Will.

Mike felt his breath catch in his throat, the world around him seeming to blur as every detail of Will’s face hit him all at once—the soft hazel eyes, the faint freckles dusting his nose, the way his lips parted slightly as he stared at Mike like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Mike…?” Will’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but it cut through the air like a sharp knife.

Mike could only stand there, rooted to the spot, his mind racing as he tried—and failed—to process what was happening.

Chapter Text

Mike stared at Will, completely frozen, his mind scrambling to make sense of what was happening. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. The word echoed in his head like a broken record. He hadn’t seen Will in a year, and now, of all places, of all moments, here he was—standing in line at a sandwich shop, witnessing Mike scrounging for loose change with a crying baby strapped to his chest.

Before Mike could even think of something to say, Rory let out another sharp cry, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. He turned his attention to her for a moment, bouncing slightly on his heels in an attempt to calm her.

“Here you go,” the cashier interrupted, sliding his sandwich and bottle of water onto the counter.

Mike muttered a quick, “Thanks,” avoiding eye contact with Will as he grabbed the items and tried to adjust Rory’s position in the carrier.

Then, Will spoke. “Do you, uh… want to sit with me?”

Mike looked up, his heart thudding in his chest. Will’s voice was soft, his expression unreadable. Mike’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He finally managed to stutter, “S-sure. Yeah. Of course.”

Will nodded and stepped up to the counter to place his order—a muffin and a coffee. Mike waited near the door, bouncing on his toes as Rory’s fussing grew louder. He kept his head down, trying to focus on soothing her instead of the million thoughts racing through his mind. Why was Will here? Why now? What the hell was he supposed to say?

Once Will got his order, they walked outside together. Will led them to a small table a bit further away from the bustling crowd, giving them some privacy. Mike sat down, carefully unstrapping Rory from the carrier and cradling her in his arms. Her cries had quieted to soft whimpers, but he could feel the tension in her tiny body.

For a few moments, there was only silence between them, save for Rory’s occasional sniffles. Mike avoided Will’s gaze, focusing instead on adjusting Rory’s little blanket.

Finally, Will broke the silence. “Is… is she yours?”

Mike’s heart sank. He looked up at Will, nerves knotting in his stomach. “Yeah,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. He nodded for emphasis, feeling like his answer wasn’t enough.

Will’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Mike opened his mouth, but no words came out. He closed it again, biting his lip as he searched for an explanation. He didn’t have one—not one that would make any sense to Will. Instead, he shrugged, a gesture so small it was almost imperceptible.

Will sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Mike… you should’ve told us.”

“I know,” Mike murmured, his voice cracking slightly.

Rory started to fuss again, squirming in Mike’s arms. He sighed, his exhaustion evident as he tried to rock her gently. After a moment, he glanced at Will. “Look, do you want to come to my apartment? I can explain there. She’s getting fussy, and it’s probably better to talk somewhere quieter.”

Will hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, okay.”

Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and a pen. He scribbled down his address and handed it to Will. “I don’t know if you have a car with you or anything, but I walked here. It’s gonna take me about an hour to my place. So you might have to wait a while.”

Will frowned, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. “You walked an hour? With her?”

Mike shrugged, feeling even more embarrassed. “Yeah. I don’t have a car right now.”

Will stared at him for a moment, then said, “I can drive you. It’s no problem.”

Mike hesitated but eventually nodded. “Okay… thanks.”

He stood up, carefully securing Rory back into the carrier as Will led the way to his car. Mike’s mind raced the entire time, dreading the conversation that awaited them once they reached his apartment.

They stepped out of Will’s car, and Mike felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment bubbling up as they approached the building. His apartment wasn’t just modest—it was depressing. Bare, old, and far from the image of stability he wished he could present. He fumbled with his keys at the door, avoiding Will’s curious gaze as he muttered, “It’s not much, but it’s… home, I guess.”

Will didn’t respond, but Mike could feel the weight of his unspoken thoughts. He pushed the door open, revealing the small, dingy space he called home. The paint was peeling in places, and the furniture, what little there was, was secondhand and mismatched. A threadbare couch dominated the small living room, and there was barely any decor to make the space feel lived in. Mike was painfully aware of the silence stretching between them as Will took it all in.

“You can, uh, sit on the couch,” Mike said quickly, motioning to the worn cushions. “I’ll be back in a second.”

Will nodded, stepping further into the room, his gaze flickering between the sparse surroundings and the baby in Mike’s arms. Mike hurried into the bedroom, trying not to let his nerves get the better of him. Once inside, he set Rory down on the changing and grabbed her teething medicine from the shelf.

“Okay, baby girl, let’s get you feeling better,” he murmured as he gently applied more gel to her gums. Rory squirmed but settled as the soothing effects began to kick in. Mike let out a sigh of relief and picked her up again, cradling her against his chest as he walked back toward the kitchen.

His relief was short-lived as he opened the cabinet to grab a clean bottle. The shelves were nearly empty, save for a few packs of crackers, a single packet of ramen, and Rory’s formula. Mike’s stomach twisted, from the shame of knowing Will could see all of this. He tried to be quick, shoving the cabinet shut, but he knew it was impossible to hide.

Will was sitting on the couch, his eyes inevitably drawn to the sparse kitchen just a few feet away. If he had any thoughts, though, he kept them to himself.

Mike mixed the formula, shaking the bottle vigorously before making his way back to the couch. He sank down beside Will and shifted Rory in his arms to begin feeding her. Will’s gaze was fixed on the baby, his expression soft but unreadable.

For a few moments, the only sounds were Rory’s contented gulps and the occasional creak of the couch as Mike adjusted his position. Finally, Mike cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“I don’t… really know what to say,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He glanced at Will, then back down at Rory. “If you have questions or… whatever, just ask.”

Will nodded slowly, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “Okay,” he said, his voice just as quiet. “How old is she?”

“Six months,” Mike answered without hesitation.

“What’s her name?”

“Rory,” Mike said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Aurora Melody Wheeler .”

Will nodded again, his gaze still on the baby. He asked a few more questions—about her personality, her habits, her milestones so far—and Mike answered them all, his initial nerves easing slightly as he talked about Rory.

But then Will hesitated, his brow furrowing. “Who’s… who’s her mom?”

The question hit Mike like a ton of bricks. His body stiffened, and he froze mid-bounce as Rory started to fuss again. He felt Will’s eyes on him, filled with confusion.

“Mike?” Will prompted gently.

Mike took a deep breath, his grip tightening on the bottle. “She’s not here anymore,” he said finally, his voice flat.

The look of horror on Will’s face was immediate. “Oh my god… Did she… Did she pass away?”

Mike let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “I wish,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?” Will asked, leaning forward slightly, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Mike cleared his throat, trying to gather his thoughts. “She left,” he said simply. “She decided that being a mom wasn’t for her, so she took off. It’s just me and Rory now.”

Will’s expression softened, a look of deep sympathy crossing his face. “Mike… I’m so sorry.”

Mike nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah. Me too.”

The weight of the conversation settled between them, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Rory let out a soft coo, her little fingers curling around the edge of Mike’s shirt, and he glanced down at her, his heart aching with a mix of love and exhaustion.

After a while, Mike decided to shift the focus. “So, uh… what about you?” he asked, looking up at Will. “What are you doing in Indianapolis?”

Will sat back slightly, running a hand through his hair. “I transferred to Herron School of Art and Design,” he said. “It’s been… a lot, but I’m glad I made the move. I’m closer to mom now, so that’s a bonus, you know how she worries.”

Mike managed a small smile. “That’s great,” he said sincerely.

Will hesitated, then asked, “What about you? Are you still at the University of Indianapolis?”

Mike felt a lump form in his throat, and he shook his head. “No,” he admitted. “I had to drop out. Between work and Rory… it just wasn’t possible. I couldn’t do all three.”

There it was again—that look of sympathy on Will’s face, the one that made Mike feel like a failure all over again.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Will said softly.

“Don’t be,” Mike said quickly, though his voice cracked slightly. He looked down at Rory, who was now dozing off in his arms, her tiny fist clutching his shirt. “This is my life now. And it’s… hard, but it’s worth it. She’s worth it.”

Will nodded, but his expression remained thoughtful. 

The silence between them was suffocating, broken only by the faint gurgling sound of Rory drinking from her bottle. Will sat stiffly on the worn-out couch, his hands clasped in front of him, his gaze flitting between the bare kitchen cabinets and Mike’s hunched figure. The question that had been on his mind since the sandwich shop lingered, unspoken, but the weight of it pressed on him until he couldn’t keep quiet any longer.

“I just…” Will hesitated, choosing his words carefully, his voice soft and cautious. “I just don’t get it, Mike. Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Mike froze, staring at the bottle in his hand. Rory shifted slightly, her little fingers curling around his shirt, but he barely noticed. Will’s question hung in the air, cutting through the thick tension like a blade.

“I—” Mike started, but his throat tightened, and the words caught in his chest. He clenched his jaw, trying to steady his breathing, but the frustration and shame that had been building inside him for months finally spilled over.

“Mike—”

“Because I was embarrassed, okay?” he snapped, his voice rising sharply. Rory flinched at the sudden noise, her face scrunching as if she might cry again. Mike took a shaky breath, lowering his voice, but the edge of his frustration remained.

“Look around, Will.” He gestured around the apartment, his movements jerky and desperate. “I live in a fucking shithole. The cabinets are empty, the floors are falling apart, and half the outlets don’t even work. I couldn’t even afford a $2 sandwich without digging through my backpack for loose change. Do you know how pathetic that feels? How embarrassing?”

Will’s face fell, his expression shifting from confusion to hurt. Mike’s words hit him like a punch to the gut, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I’m not embarrassed of Rory,” Mike continued, his voice breaking as he looked down at his daughter. Her wide eyes stared up at him, innocent and unaware of the storm raging inside him. “She’s the only good thing I’ve ever done. But me?” He laughed bitterly, tears pooling in his eyes. “I’m a fucking failure, Will. Look at this place. Look at me. I can barely keep the lights on. I don’t even know if I’ll have enough for rent this month. How the hell am I supposed to give her a good life when I can’t even take care of myself?”

The tears spilled over now, and Mike didn’t bother trying to wipe them away. He clutched Rory closer to his chest, as if holding her tighter might somehow shield her from the mess he’d made of his life.

Will’s chest tightened at the sight of Mike breaking down in front of him. This wasn’t the Mike he remembered—the confident, stubborn, quick-witted boy who always seemed to have a plan. This was someone weighed down by circumstances far beyond what anyone his age should have to handle. And it hurt. It hurt Will in a way he couldn’t put into words, seeing Mike like this—so defeated, so full of shame and self-loathing.

“Mike… it’s okay,” Will said softly, his voice trembling as he reached out.

Mike shook his head, his shoulders trembling with silent sobs. “You don’t get it,” he choked out. “You don’t understand, Will. You have no idea what it’s like to feel like this—to feel like you’re failing at everything, all the time. I look at her, and I just… I feel like I’m letting her down every second of every day.”

Will’s hand hovered in the air for a moment before he finally leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Mike in a firm but gentle hug. Rory was squished between them, letting out a small noise of protest, but neither of them moved.

“It’s okay,” Will murmured, his voice steady despite the tears pricking at his own eyes. “Mike, it’s okay. You’re not a failure.”

“Yes, I am,” Mike whispered, his voice breaking.

“No, you’re not,” Will said firmly, pulling back just enough to look at Mike’s tear-streaked face. “You’re doing the best you can. You’re taking care of her on your own, Mike. That’s not failing—that’s being a damn good dad.”

Mike let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “A good dad wouldn’t have her living like this.”

Will tightened his grip on Mike’s shoulders, his expression fierce. “A good dad does whatever it takes to keep his kid safe and loved. And that’s exactly what you’re doing. This?” He gestured around the apartment. “This doesn’t matter, Mike. She doesn’t care if the floors are falling apart or if the apartment is fancy. All she cares about is you. And you’re here. You’re doing everything you can for her, and that’s more than a lot of people would do.”

Mike looked away, his lip trembling as fresh tears spilled over. He wanted to believe Will, but the weight of his failures still pressed heavily on his chest.

“You’re not alone in this,” Will said quietly, his voice softer now. “I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m going to help you. Whatever you need, I’ll be there. You’re not doing this by yourself anymore.”

Mike’s head dropped, his tears falling silently onto Rory’s tiny head. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to lean on someone else, to believe—just for a moment—that maybe he didn’t have to carry it all on his own.

Will held him for a long time, the silence between them no longer heavy but comforting. 

After comforting Mike for what felt like hours, Will eventually pulled away and stood up. Mike watched him, still sniffling but quieter now. Will made his way to the small kitchen, his footsteps slow and deliberate, as if afraid of what he might find.

He opened the fridge first. The light flickered faintly, illuminating the barren shelves inside. A single can of soda sat in the back, alongside a half-empty container peanut butter. Will’s throat tightened as he stared into the emptiness. His chest ached as the thought hit him: Had I not stepped in and paid for his sandwich, would Mike have eaten today?

The thought was unbearable. He moved to the cabinets next, the hinges creaking as he pulled them open. The contents weren’t much better—crackers, a lone packet of ramen, and Rory’s formula. That was it. Will shut the cabinet quickly, feeling like an intruder in Mike’s private struggles.

When he turned around, Mike was standing by the doorway to the kitchen, holding Rory in his arms. His face was flushed with embarrassment, and his eyes darted nervously between Will and the cabinets.

“I… I know it’s bad,” Mike said quietly, shifting Rory in his arms. “But it’s fine. We manage.”

Will took a deep breath and stepped closer, his gaze steady. “Mike, this isn’t managing. You can’t keep living like this.”

Mike swallowed hard, his shame evident. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know you are,” Will said softly, his voice laced with compassion. “But you shouldn’t have to do it all on your own.”

Mike opened his mouth to respond, but Will held up a hand to stop him. “Get your stuff,” he said firmly.

Mike blinked, confused. “What? Why?”

“Just grab your things,” Will repeated. “We’re going somewhere.”

“Where?” Mike asked, his brow furrowed.

Will didn’t answer, already moving to grab Rory’s car seat. “Trust me,” he said simply.

Reluctantly, Mike grabbed his bag and followed Will to the car. He buckled Rory into her seat while Will climbed into the driver’s side. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Mike glanced at Will, his curiosity growing with every turn. When they finally pulled into the parking lot of a grocery store, Mike’s stomach sank.

“What are we doing here?” he asked.

“We’re stocking your fridge,” Will said matter-of-factly.

Mike’s face flushed. “Will, I can’t… I don’t have the money for this right now.”

Will turned to him, his expression calm but unyielding. “It’s not your money. It’s mine. And I’m doing this because I want to.”

“No,” Mike said quickly, shaking his head. “I can’t let you do that. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Will said, his voice tinged with frustration. “You need real food, Mike. Not just for you, but for Rory. You can’t take care of her if you’re running on fumes.”

Mike opened his mouth to protest, but the lump in his throat stopped him. He looked down at Rory, who was chewing on the strap of her car seat. As much as he hated it, Will was right.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “But just… not too much, okay?”

Will smiled softly, a look of relief washing over his face. “Okay. Not too much.”

When they got inside, though, Mike realized Will had no intention of sticking to “not too much.”

Will grabbed a cart and immediately started tossing in essentials—bread, milk, eggs, vegetables, pasta, chicken, rice. With every item, Mike grew more and more mortified.

“Will, stop,” he said, reaching into the cart to take out a bag of apples. “We don’t need this.”

Will grabbed the apples and put them back in the cart. “You do need this.”

“I can’t pay you back for all this,” Mike said, his voice strained.

“I’m not asking you to pay me back,” Will replied, moving to grab a carton of juice.

Mike sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Will, seriously. This is too much.”

Will stopped and turned to face him. “Mike, you’ve been surviving on ramen and crackers. You didn’t even have enough for a sandwich today.” His voice softened as he continued, “Let me do this. Please.”

Mike hesitated, his eyes darting to the cart, then to Rory, and finally back to Will. The sincerity in Will’s gaze broke down the last of his resistance.

“Okay,” Mike said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Will nodded and continued down the aisle, adding baby formula, diapers, and even a small pack of baby clothes to the cart. Mike wanted to crawl into a hole. Every time Will added something new, the shame burned hotter in his chest.

By the time they reached the checkout, the cart was full, and Mike felt utterly humiliated. But when he glanced at Will, he didn’t see judgment—only determination and quiet kindness.

As the cashier rang up the items, Mike stood silently, holding Rory close to his chest. He hated that he needed this. He hated that Will had to see him like this. But more than anything, he hated that a part of him was beyond relived.

As soon as they got back to the apartment, Will immediately started unpacking the groceries, moving with a quiet efficiency that Mike couldn’t help but admire. Meanwhile, Mike took Rory to the bedroom to change her diaper. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but his thoughts kept drifting to the sight of Will stocking his once-empty fridge.

When Mike emerged from the bedroom, Rory now happily settled in her crib, he froze in the doorway of the kitchen. His fridge was full. Not just with essentials like milk and eggs but with an array of fresh produce, meats, snacks, and more. His cabinets were brimming with supplies, too—pasta, rice, cans of soup, cereal, and everything in between. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen so much food, not since he lived with his parents. The sight stirred something deep in his chest, a mix of gratitude and a gnawing sense of inadequacy.

Quietly, he grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the counter and approached Will, who was putting the last bag of groceries away.

“How much was it?” Mike asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Will turned to him, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What?”

“The groceries,” Mike clarified, holding up the paper and pen. “Just tell me how much it was, and I’ll pay you back as soon as I can.”

Will blinked at him, then let out a soft laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Mike, no. I’m not letting you pay me back.”

Mike’s face flushed, and he sighed heavily. “Will, it’s too much. I can’t just… I can’t just take this from you.”

Will closed the fridge door and turned to face him fully, his expression firm but gentle. “You’re not taking anything. I wanted to do this.”

Mike opened his mouth to argue, but Will cut him off. “Seriously, Mike, if you keep asking me to pay you back, I’m going to lose it.”

The room fell silent for a moment as Mike stared at Will, his frustration warring with his shame. Finally, he sighed again, dropping his pen onto the counter. “Why?” he asked softly. “Why won’t you just let me pay you back?”

Will’s expression softened, and he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. “Because I know what it’s like,” he said simply.

Mike frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Will hesitated for a moment, then asked, “Do you remember when my dad left?”

Mike nodded slowly. “Yeah, of course.”

Will let out a small breath, as if bracing himself. “You know my mom struggled after that. When I was a kid, I didn’t notice it as much, but when I got older, I started to realize… sometimes she’d give the food to me or Jonathan, and she wouldn’t eat.”

Mike’s eyes widened slightly, a pang of guilt settling in his chest.

“No one deserves to go through that,” Will continued, his voice quieter now. “And no one deserves to feel like they’re failing because of it.”

Mike swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. “Will…”

Will gave him a small, sad smile. “I’ll never forget one time you came over to my house. My mom made us mac and cheese, and I remember you asked her why she wasn’t eating. She said she wasn’t hungry, but… I noticed you looked at the pot and saw it was empty.”

Mike’s brows furrowed as he struggled to remember, but the memory came rushing back in pieces. He had noticed. He remembered going home and telling his mom about it, how it didn’t seem right.

Will’s voice broke through his thoughts. “The next day, there were bags and bags of groceries by our front door. I didn’t know it then, but now I’m sure your mom was the one who left them. I’ll never forget the look of relief on my mom’s face.”

Mike’s throat tightened, and his eyes began to sting. “I—I didn’t know,” he murmured.

Will shrugged gently. “You helped us back then, even if you didn’t realize it. And now I want to help you. Regardless of whether you had helped us or not back then, i’d still do this. Because that’s what friends do. It doesn’t matter how long we didn’t talk, Mike. I’m always going to be here when you need me.”

The words broke something inside Mike, and before he could stop them, soft tears began spilling down his cheeks. He looked away, embarrassed, but Will stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

Mike let himself be held, his shoulders shaking as he whispered, “Thank you.”

Will tightened his arms around him, his voice steady and warm. “You don’t have to thank me, Mike. You’re my best friend.”

Chapter Text

Since Rory was now in daycare, Mike had settled into a routine. He worked the 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. shift at the grocery store, which wasn’t glamorous, but it paid the bills. Most days, getting out of bed felt like a monumental task—especially when Rory refused to sleep through the night—but they managed. He’d gotten used to the rhythm of their mornings: juggling feeding her, getting her dressed, and somehow getting himself out the door in one piece.

By the time they were back home in the evenings, exhaustion clung to Mike like a second skin, but he didn’t let it show. Not to Rory. She needed him to be present, to be cheerful, and so he gave her his best, even if his best felt like barely holding it together some days.

That evening, around 6 p.m., Mike sat cross-legged on the living room floor, coaxing Rory to sit up on her own. She wobbled uncertainly, her tiny fists planted firmly on the mat as if bracing herself for some great accomplishment.

“Come on, Rory,” Mike said softly, trying to encourage her without overwhelming her. “You’ve got this. Just… steady.” She made a small noise, her determination etched across her baby features, before her balance betrayed her, and she toppled forward onto her hands with a frustrated whine.

Mike let out a quiet laugh. “Hey, that wasn’t bad. You’re getting closer.” He reached over to help her back up when a knock at the door startled them both. Rory flinched at the sound, her wide eyes snapping toward the noise, and Mike froze. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

With a quiet sigh, he picked up Rory and headed to the door, glancing through the peephole before opening it. There, standing awkwardly with a bag in hand, was Will.

Mike blinked, caught off guard. “Will?”

“Hey,” Will said, giving a hesitant smile. “Uh… sorry for just showing up. I didn’t call because, well, I realized I didn’t get your number yesterday.” He shifted on his feet, glancing down at the bag in his hand before continuing. “But I, um, I remembered what times you said you were usually free, and I… thought I’d drop this off.”

Mike’s confusion deepened. “Drop what off?”

Will reached into the bag and pulled out a small pink dress. It took Mike a moment to process what he was seeing—a little princess dress, delicate and frilly, unmistakably meant for Rory.

“It’s, uh, for her,” Will said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking slightly embarrassed. “I saw it earlier and thought, you know, she’d look cute in it. I mean, I know she’s too young for Halloween, but I just thought… you know, why not?”

Mike stared at the dress for a moment before his lips twitched into a faint smile. “It’s… nice,” he said, and then, realizing how lukewarm that sounded, quickly added, “No, I mean—it’s cute. She’ll look great in it.”

Will seemed to relax slightly at the response, though his awkwardness lingered. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, nodding. “I mean, it’s definitely better than what I’ve been putting her in.”

Will chuckled softly, and Mike stepped back from the door. “You, uh, wanna come in?” he asked.

Will hesitated, glancing past Mike into the apartment. “Are you sure? You’re not busy or anything?”

“No, it’s fine,” Mike said, offering a small smile. “Come on. You can’t just drop off a gift and then disappear.”

Will stepped inside, and Mike closed the door behind him. He started toward his room, Rory still balanced on his hip, but paused when he realized Will was lingering awkwardly near the door.

“You can come in here,” Mike said, motioning toward his room.

Will’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Are you sure? I mean—”

“Will,” Mike interrupted, his tone teasing. “I’m not gonna make you sit in the living room by yourself. Don’t be ridiculous. Come on.”

Will followed him into the small room, taking in the sparse but tidy space. Mike set Rory down on the changing table and began carefully slipping the dress over her head. She squirmed a little but didn’t protest, her chubby hands reaching for the fabric as if to inspect it herself.

When Mike was done, he stepped back and looked at her, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “What do you think?” he asked, glancing at Will.

Will was quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on Rory. There was a strange, almost tender look on his face—like he was seeing something precious and fragile. “She looks… really good,” he said finally, his voice soft.

Mike’s smile grew. “Yeah, she does.”

After a beat, Will blurted out, “Can I hold her?”

Mike blinked, surprised by the suddenness of the request, but then nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

Will approached carefully, as if he was afraid of doing something wrong, and Mike handed Rory over. She studied Will with curious eyes for a moment before reaching out to grab his face, her tiny fingers pressing into his cheeks.

Will laughed, the sound light and genuine, and Mike couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “She likes you,” he said, watching as Rory let out a delighted babble and drooled on Will’s shirt.

“She’s got good taste,” Will said, grinning despite the slobber.

“Sorry about the shirt, though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Will said, shaking his head. “Miss Rory gets a pass for being adorable.”

For a while, they stayed like that—Will holding Rory, bouncing her gently and making her laugh, while Mike watched from a few feet away. There was a warmth in the room that hadn’t been there before, a quiet comfort that made Mike’s chest feel tight.

So apparently it was a thing now, Will coming over. It had started to feel like a new, quiet routine—one Mike hadn’t expected but had grown to appreciate. Will started coming over more often, almost always showing up without much warning, as if it was completely normal. And, in a way, it felt normal. More than normal, actually. Mike had missed him.

For the first time in months, Mike didn’t feel like he was running on empty all the time. Will wasn’t just a friend dropping by to hang out; he was a steady presence. And it helped. Mike had time to breathe again.

He even managed to start taking real showers, not the rushed five-minute ones where he was always watching the clock, afraid of leaving Rory alone for too long. It was a simple thing, but it felt like a luxury. As Mike stepped out of the bathroom, his hair still damp, he heard laughter. He poked his head out of his bedroom and froze.

There, in the living room, were Will and Rory. Will’s back was to him, but Mike could see him grinning down at Rory, her tiny face lit up with one of her biggest smiles.

For a moment, he just watched, leaning against the doorframe. Will was completely focused on Rory, making silly noises and wiggling toys in front of her, and Rory responded with her little giggles. Mike had seen this scene before, but today, it hit him differently.

He stood there for a few seconds, feeling the warmth of the moment, his heart tugging in a way it hadn’t in a long time. There was something almost perfect about it. In that split second, Mike let himself pretend, just for a moment, that this was his reality. Will, Rory, and him. A little family, in their messy, imperfect way.

It was a fleeting thought, a fantasy, but it made him feel something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. 

Before he could get too lost in the thought, he stepped back, his heart pounding. He grabbed his camera from the nightstand in his room, moving quickly but quietly, and snapped a picture. The moment captured was pure, Rory and Will both smiling, their joy so genuine it almost hurt to look at.

Will turned around at the sound of the camera, and Mike couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips.

“Having fun?” Mike asked, leaning against the doorframe again.

Will grinned, his eyes still on Rory. “Of course. I’m in the presence of Her Majesty herself.”

Mike snorted at the comment, the sound escaping before he could even think about it. It felt good to laugh, like he hadn’t in a while, like a piece of himself had been waiting for this. For Will.

Will looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mike said, shaking his head, still smiling. “Just—‘Her Majesty,’ huh? You’ve been spending too much time around her. You’re picking up on her dramatic flair.”

Will chuckled, his eyes softening as he glanced back down at Rory, who was reaching for one of her toys. “What can I say? She’s got the whole place wrapped around her finger.”

Mike laughed again, a little easier this time. “She does, doesn’t she?”

He stood there for a moment longer, feeling a warmth spread through him. He hadn’t realized how much he needed moments like this—small, quiet moments where things didn’t feel so heavy. Things felt normal.

“Hey, can I—” Mike started, but he stopped himself. He didn’t know if it was weird to ask, but there was this feeling that he just needed to say something. Something like, I appreciate this, I appreciate you being here.

But before he could finish the thought, Will looked up from Rory and caught his eye. There was something unspoken in the air between them, like they both knew what the other was thinking but hadn’t said it out loud.

“Thanks,” Mike said quietly. It was simple, but it felt like enough.

Chapter Text

A few days later, it was Halloween. The air had that cool, crisp bite to it, the kind of evening that reminded Mike of pumpkin spice, candy corn, and all the things that came with October. Will had insisted they go to the park tonight for the parade—a light parade, to be specific. Rory needed to see it, according to Will, though Mike had his doubts. He figured Will probably just wanted to see the parade and didn’t want to be the one grown man standing around a park full of kids with no kid of his own.

Still, Mike couldn’t really argue. Not with the way Will was practically bouncing with excitement when he showed up at Mike’s place, already in the driver’s seat of his car. It didn’t take much convincing. And when they got to the park and saw all the brightly lit floats, the sounds of the crowd, and the excitement in the air, Mike had to admit, Will was right. It was cool.

But that wasn’t what made Mike’s chest feel tight. That wasn’t the part that hurt.

It was the baby carrier. More specifically the one currently on Will’s chest. 

Will had insisted on wearing it himself. He’d argued that Mike was already used to carrying Rory all the time, that it’d be easier if he wore the carrier and took the load off Mike’s shoulders. Mike had been hesitant at first but didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, so he’d agreed. But now, watching Will walk around with Rory strapped to his chest, with her tiny head resting against his shoulder, Mike felt something tighten in his chest.

Will would be such a great dad.

The way Will looked with her, so natural, so easy. It hurt. It hurt more than Mike was willing to admit, even to himself. Will was so good with Rory. He knew exactly how to hold her, how to make her laugh, how to keep her calm when she started squirming. He was just… right with her. And it made Mike’s heart ache. Because, god.. he wanted Will to be Rory’s dad. He wanted that more than he wanted to admit.

He looked right. It felt right. 

Rory, who was still too young to understand what was going on around her, seemed entranced by the lights. She stared wide-eyed at the parade, her little face illuminated by the glow of the floats. Will, holding her with a tenderness that Mike couldn’t quite describe, bounced her gently as they walked toward the crowd. Rory’s little hands reached out, and Will smiled down at her as if the was nothing more precious in existence.

He stood back, watching them both. Will’s eyes were soft, warm, and affectionate. The way he was with Rory—it was perfect. There was no other word for it. Perfect. Will seemed to have a way with her, as if he knew exactly how to make her feel safe, how to make her laugh, how to love her.

And that thought, Will would be such a great dad, kept repeating in Mike’s head like an echo. It made his stomach twist. He didn’t know why it hurt so much, but it did.

Mike shook his head, trying to push the thought away. Will wasn’t thinking about any of that. Will was just here to help, to be a good friend. That’s all this was—just two best friends out on a Halloween night with a baby. Nothing more, nothing less.

But as he stood there, watching Will interact with Rory, he couldn’t help but wonder. What if it could be more? A real family, like he imagined sometimes when he let himself dream for just a second.

But that was a thought Mike couldn’t keep. It hurt too much to even entertain. He wasn’t going to ruin everything with these thoughts. Will was just here to help. It didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean Will wanted anything more, or that he ever would.

“Hey, Mike!” Will called, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Look at her! She loves it.”

Mike blinked, pulling himself together, forcing a smile as he looked over at Will and Rory. Rory’s little face was lit up with wonder as she stared at the parade. Will was bouncing her gently, his eyes locked on her, his smile soft and filled with adoration.

“Yeah, she does,” Mike said, his voice quieter than he meant it to be. He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the feeling that had crept up on him. “She’s having the time of her life, iv never seen her eyes so big.”

Will nodded enthusiastically, adjusting the baby carrier as he shifted Rory higher up. “I can’t wait until she’s old enough for all the Halloween stuff. I’m gonna make her the best costumes.” He grinned like he was already imagining it. “She’ll be the best dressed kid in town.”

Mike’s heart skipped a beat, and he forced himself to look away. The idea of next year—of Rory being older, of Will still being around—felt like a punch to the gut.

Will was holding Rory, laughing with her as she cooed and giggled. And it wasn’t just the way Will was with her that made Mike’s heart hurt, it was the way he wanted that—all of that—to be his. He wanted Will in their little family, wanted to wake up in the morning and have Will there, wanted to share all the moments that came with raising a kid. He wanted Will to be there for the hard stuff too, the sleepless nights and the milestones. He wanted them to be together, to be a family.

But that wasn’t how things went. Not for him.  They were just friends. He had to remind himself of that over and over, because the longer he let himself hope, the more it would hurt.

Will looked down at Rory and smiled softly. “She’s so amazing,” he murmured, almost to himself.

Mike swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions from surfacing. He didn’t want to let it show how badly his chest ached. He didn’t want Will to see how much he wished that could be a permanent thing.

Mike couldn’t do it. He couldn’t be the one to say what he really wanted to say. So, instead, he nodded. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Will laughed, and the sound was soft, warm, as if he didn’t notice the way Mike’s voice faltered. “I’m lucky to have her.”

Chapter Text

Once the parade was over, they started wandering through the park, letting the quiet atmosphere settle over them. Rory had fallen asleep in the baby carrier on Will’s chest, her little head tucked snugly against him, her soft black curls brushing against his shirt. Every now and then, Mike glanced over, a small smile tugging at his lips. He couldn’t help it. The sight of Will carrying Rory, the way he looked so natural and at ease, tugged at something deep inside him.

“She’s out,” Mike said softly, his voice laced with a kind of gentle amusement. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head as he watched Rory’s little face smushed adorably against Will’s chest.

Will smiled back at him, his own laugh barely above a whisper, not wanting to disturb the baby. “Yeah, completely,” he said, glancing down at her. He lifted a hand, brushing his fingers over her curls with the softest touch, as if she were the most delicate thing in the world. He paused there for a moment, his hand resting lightly on her tiny head, before pulling it back and looking up at Mike again, his smile still lingering.

For a moment, the two of them just stood there, watching Rory sleep. The glow of the park’s decorative lights reflected in the dark, peaceful sky above them, the world around them quiet except for the occasional hum of laughter or chatter from other families passing by.

Will didn’t say anything, but inside, his emotions swirled like a storm he couldn’t quite name. It was this strange, overwhelming mix of joy, longing, and something he didn’t dare acknowledge fully. He felt like he should be nervous, like he was crossing some invisible line, but instead, all he felt was warmth. Pure, unfiltered warmth that spread from his chest down to the very tips of his fingers.

This was it. This was everything. Spending time with Mike and Rory, being with them like this—it felt so right. More right than anything had in a very, very long time. He didn’t even know how to put it into words. He couldn’t. All he knew was that he was happy. So unbelievably happy.

And yet, there was that tiny voice in the back of his mind, reminding him of the truth: she wasn’t his. This wasn’t his life. This wasn’t his little family. But God, for just a moment, couldn’t he let himself pretend? Just for a little while? He could close his eyes and imagine it—them as a family. Him, Mike, and Rory. This was the life he’d never let himself dream about, but here it was, right in front of him. He wanted it so badly.

He knew it wasn’t real, though. It couldn’t be. And even if he let himself enjoy it now, even if he let himself believe the illusion, it wouldn’t last. It never did. Reality had a way of breaking through, of taking moments like this and ripping them apart.

Still, he couldn’t make himself care. Not right now. He looked back down at Rory, her tiny body rising and falling gently with her breaths, and he smiled again. For this moment, at least, he could let himself have it. Even if it was selfish. Even if it would hurt later.

Mike, meanwhile, couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Will. It was the way Will looked at Rory, so tenderly, as though she were the most important thing in the world. The way he held her like she belonged there, like it was second nature. Mike swallowed hard, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets as he tried to keep his emotions in check. He knew he was staring too much, but he couldn’t help it.

Mike shook his head, letting out a quiet breath. He was getting ahead of himself. It wasn’t fair to think that way, not to Will and not to Rory. They were fine the way they were, right? Will was here. He was helping. He was… everything Mike could have asked for. That should be enough.

Will glanced over at Mike, catching him in the middle of one of his stolen looks, and Mike quickly looked away, pretending to focus on something else. Will didn’t say anything, but his smile grew just a little bit wider.

They kept walking, the silence between them easy, comfortable. Mike found himself falling into step with Will, his shoulder brushing against his every so often. And with Rory’s soft breaths filling the quiet, Mike let himself relax, just for a little while.

They’d been wandering through the park for about half an hour when Rory started to stir in the baby carrier on Will’s chest. It started with a little whimper, the kind that was half-sigh, half-complaint, and Mike glanced over, instantly alert. By the time she let out a soft, more insistent cry, he was already checking his watch.

“She’s probably hungry,” Mike said, adjusting the strap of his backpack as he slowed to a stop.

Will nodded, shifting Rory gently as if the motion might calm her down for just a moment longer. “Makes sense. We’ve been out a while.”

They spotted a picnic table nearby and made their way over. Mike slipped his backpack off his shoulders with a small groan, rifling through it until he pulled out her bottle. It wasn’t quite a graceful process—Rory’s cries were growing more insistent by the second—but eventually, Mike got it together. He handed the bottle to Will, who was already sitting down, his free hand adjusting Rory’s position in the carrier as he prepared to feed her.

Mike watched as Will expertly tilted the bottle and guided the nipple toward Rory’s mouth. She latched on immediately, her little hands resting against the bottle as she sucked greedily. Her cries quieted almost instantly, replaced by the soft sounds of her drinking. Will glanced down at her, a fond smile tugging at his lips, and Mike sat beside him, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Crisis averted,” Mike muttered, leaning back against the bench.

Will chuckled, glancing over at him. “For now, anyway.”

They sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds coming from Rory and the occasional laughter of kids playing somewhere in the distance. Mike found his gaze drifting back to Will, who was completely focused on Rory, the gentle expression on his face making Mike’s chest tighten.

Once Rory finished the bottle, Will carefully tilted it away, but the moment he did, she started softly crying again, her tiny face scrunching up in frustration. She kept sucking on the bottle’s nipple, clearly unsatisfied. Mike let out a low groan, running a hand through his hair.

“Shit,” he muttered, reaching for the empty bottle and inspecting it as if it might somehow magically refill itself. “She probably didn’t get full. She’s been like this lately—sometimes the bottle isn’t enough. She’s starting to want more solids.”

Will frowned slightly, looking down at Rory with concern. “Did you bring anything else for her?”

Mike shook his head, guilt flickering across his face. “No. I didn’t think we’d be out this long. I figured the bottle would be enough to tide her over.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I should’ve been more prepared.”

Will was already scanning the area. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out. There’s gotta be something around here.” He pointed toward a cluster of food carts in the distance. “Let’s check over there.”

They packed up quickly, tucking the bottle back into the backpack, and headed toward the carts. Rory’s cries were soft but persistent, her little fists curling and uncurling against Will’s chest. He bounced her lightly as they walked, murmuring to her in soothing tones that Mike couldn’t quite hear but that seemed to help calm her just a little.

When they reached the carts, Mike stepped forward, scanning the options. Most of them were serving things like hot dogs, pretzels, and popcorn—not exactly baby-friendly. Then he spotted a cart selling fresh fruit and made his way over, already pulling out his wallet.

“Can I get a cup of watermelon and cantaloupe?” he asked the vendor.

The woman behind the cart nodded, scooping the fruit into a clear plastic cup. When she handed it to him, she said, “That’ll be five dollars.”

Mike’s eyes widened slightly. “Five dollars? For fruit?”

The vendor shrugged, offering a polite but unapologetic smile. “That’s the price.”

Mike sighed, reaching for his wallet, but before he could pull out any cash, Will stepped forward, pulling a crisp bill from his own wallet and handing it to the vendor.

“Will—” Mike started, turning toward him with an incredulous look.

“It’s fine,” Will said, waving him off as he took the fruit cup from the vendor. “Don’t worry about it.”

Mike narrowed his eyes, clearly about to argue, but Will was already walking toward a quieter area near the pond, carrying Rory and the fruit like he hadn’t just completely disregarded Mike’s protests. Mike let out a frustrated huff but followed after him, catching up just as Will reached a patch of grass that offered a nice view of the water.

Will stopped and turned to Mike. “Got that blanket in your bag?”

Mike rolled his eyes but didn’t comment, instead pulling the blanket out of his backpack and laying it down on the grass. Once it was spread out, they both sat down, Rory still resting against Will’s chest.

Mike pulled his wallet back out, fishing around for a five-dollar bill. Once he found it, he pushed it toward Will, who was carefully adjusting Rory in the carrier so she could sit more comfortably.

“Here,” Mike said, holding the bill out.

Will barely glanced at it before shaking his head. “No, keep it.”

Mike frowned, shoving the money closer to him. “Come on, Will. Just take it.”

“I said no,” Will replied lightly, leaning back on his hands and looking out toward the pond. “It’s fine, Mike. It’s just five bucks.”

“That’s not the point,” Mike argued, his tone sharper now as he let the bill fall onto Will’s lap. “Why won’t you just take it?”

Will sighed, looking over at him with an exasperated smile. “Because it’s not a big deal. Seriously, it’s a big-ass cup of fruit. We’re all sharing it anyway.”

Mike groaned, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not about the fruit, Will.”

“Then what’s it about?” Will asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he sat up straighter.

Mike hesitated, his hand dropping to his lap as he looked away. For a moment, he seemed to struggle to find the words, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward Rory, who was starting to fuss again. Finally, he let out a frustrated sigh.

“It makes me feel like shit, okay?” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “Like…like a charity case.”

Will’s face fell, his earlier teasing demeanor fading instantly. “Mike—”

“No, let me finish,” Mike said, cutting him off as he looked back at him. “I appreciate everything you’ve done for me—seriously, I do. You’ve been…you’ve been amazing. But when you pull stuff like this, like paying for things without even asking me, it feels like you think I can’t handle it. Like you see me as some…some broke single dad who can’t even afford a cup of fruit.”

“That’s not how I see you at all,” Will said immediately, his voice firm but gentle. “I swear, Mike, that’s not what I’m trying to do. I just…” He trailed off, running a hand over his face as he sighed. “I guess I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I just do it because I care about you. About both of you. That’s all.”

Mike’s shoulders slumped, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “I know that. And I’m not trying to sound ungrateful. It’s just…hard, you know? I already feel like I’m barely keeping it together half the time. And when you step in and just…take over like that, it reminds me of everything I’m not doing right.”

Will frowned, guilt flickering across his face. “I’m sorry, Mike. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. Really. I’ll try to be more…I don’t know, mindful about it in the future. But for what it’s worth, I don’t see you as some charity case Mike. You’re my best friend. And I just want to help. That’s all. You and Rory mean so much to me and I just..I can’t help it. I’m sorry.”

Mike nodded slowly, his expression softening. “Thanks. And I’m sorry for snapping at you. I know you’re just trying to help.”

“It’s okay,” Will said with a small smile. “Truce?”

“Truce,” Mike agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Rory, who had been fussing quietly during their conversation, let out a louder whimper, drawing both their attention. Will leaned forward, reaching into the fruit cup and pulling out a piece of watermelon. He held it up for her, letting her tiny fingers curl around it before guiding it toward her mouth.

“Alright, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Let’s see what you think of this.”

Rory took a tentative bite, her face scrunching up as she processed the new texture and flavor. For a moment, it looked like she might spit it out, but then her expression shifted, and she let out a delighted coo, reaching for more.

Mike laughed, leaning closer to get a better look at her reaction. “Guess she’s a fan.”

Will chuckled, offering her another bite. “Yeah, looks like it.”

They took turns feeding Rory, each piece of fruit met with the same wide-eyed curiosity and tiny, happy noises. At one point, Mike grabbed a piece of cantaloupe and held it out to her, only for her to scrunch up her nose and turn her head away, earning a laugh from both of them.

“Not a fan of cantaloupe, huh?” Mike said, popping the rejected piece into his own mouth.

“Can’t blame her,” Will said, shaking his head with mock seriousness. “Watermelon’s the superior fruit.”

“Bold opinion,” Mike replied with a grin. “But you might be right.”

They settled into an easy rhythm, the earlier tension forgotten as they focused on Rory and her first experience with fresh fruit. Her tiny hands reached eagerly for each piece, her excitement infectious as they laughed and cheered her on. By the time they were halfway through the cup, her face was sticky with juice, and her babbles had turned into soft giggles.

“She’s a mess,” Mike said fondly, using a napkin to wipe at her chin.

Will smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, but she’s a happy mess.”

Mike looked at him then, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer than usual. He loved them so much  

Chapter Text

Will stepped out of the grocery store, the weight of the plastic bags digging into his fingers as the cold November air nipped at his face. The wind sent a shiver down his spine, but he barely noticed. His mind was too preoccupied with the plan he’d been forming since the moment he stepped into the store.

Two weeks. That’s how long it had been since their night at the park, since Mike had told him—really told him—how it felt when Will pulled out his wallet without hesitation. And yeah, okay, Will got it. He really did. Back when his family was struggling, he remembers how much he hated when someone would step in and try to pay for something without him even getting his money out yet. Assuming he didn’t have any. That memory sat heavy in his chest every time he thought about Mike’s frustration, the way his voice had wavered between appreciation and something that sounded an awful lot like shame.

So Will had stopped doing that. Stopped insisting on paying, stopped offering money before Mike even had a chance to reach for his own wallet. But that didn’t mean he was just going to sit back and do nothing. Mike was a single dad now. And sure, he was stubborn as hell, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need help sometimes. It just meant Will had to be more… creative about it.

Like tonight.

Will adjusted the bags in his arms, a small smirk forming on his lips. He was making Alfredo. A big, steaming pot of it, rich and creamy, with fresh parmesan grated on top. And oh no, what a shame, he’d made way too much. Wouldn’t want it to go to waste. Guess he’d just have to call Mike and invite him over for dinner.

It was a foolproof plan. He got to help without making Mike feel like he was being taken care of. It was just a casual dinner between friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

He let himself into his apartment, the warmth of the heater immediately soothing the chill in his bones. He set the bags down on the kitchen counter and got to work. He put on some music—something soft and instrumental—before rolling up his sleeves and starting to prep.

Cooking had never really been his thing, but he’d been getting better at it. Joyce had taught him a few things over the years, and when he’d moved out on his own, he’d forced himself to actually learn instead of relying on cheap microwave meals. Now, he kind of liked it. There was something methodical about it, something calming.

As he chopped garlic, the rich scent filling the small kitchen, he found himself thinking about Mike. About how tired he’d looked the last time they hung out, dark circles smudged beneath his eyes. About how much softer he’d become when he held Rory, like the weight of her in his arms was the only thing keeping him tethered.

God, Will wished things were different.

He wished Mike didn’t have to do this alone. That he had someone to share the burden, someone to come home to at the end of the day. And selfishly, Will wished that someone could be him.

But that wasn’t reality.

Reality was chopping garlic in his small kitchen, pretending he wasn’t going to spend the next hour making a meal specifically designed to get Mike to come over. Pretending it didn’t hurt every time he had to remind himself that this wasn’t real. That he and Mike weren’t a family, no matter how much he wanted to be.

He shook his head, pushing the thought aside as he tossed the garlic into the pan, the sizzle breaking the heavy silence in his mind.

Focus, Byers.

Twenty minutes later, the sauce was coming together, thick and creamy, filling the apartment with the comforting smell of butter and parmesan. The pasta was boiling, the steam fogging up the window above the sink. Everything was coming together perfectly.

Now for the next step.

Will wiped his hands on a dish towel before grabbing the phone off the wall, dialing Mike’s number from memory. He leaned against the counter as the phone rang, tapping his fingers against the cool surface.

After a few rings, Mike picked up. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Will said, keeping his voice casual. “What are you up to?”

There was some shuffling on the other end, like Mike was adjusting Rory in his arms. “Uh, nothing much. Just got her down for a nap. Why?”

Bingo.

“So, funny story,” Will started, turning away from the stove so he could lean against the counter. “I may or may not have just made a ridiculous amount of Alfredo. Like, way too much. And I really don’t feel like eating leftovers for the next three days, so… you and Rory wanna come over for dinner?”

There was a pause. Will could practically hear the gears turning in Mike’s head, trying to figure out if this was some kind of ploy. Which, okay, it totally was. But that was beside the point.

“You just happened to make too much pasta?” Mike asked, his voice laced with suspicion.

Will rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mike. Sometimes people accidentally make too much food. It happens.”

Another pause. Then, finally, Mike sighed. “Alright, fine. But only because I don’t feel like cooking.”

Will grinned. “Sure. That’s the only reason.”

“Shut up,” Mike muttered, but there was a smile in his voice. “We’ll be over in twenty.”

“Sounds good,” Will said, hanging up with a satisfied smile.

Plan successful.

A knock came at Will’s door exactly twenty minutes later, right on time.

He wiped his hands on a dish towel, tossing it onto the counter as he walked over, already smiling to himself. He swung the door open, expecting Mike and Rory, but still, the sight of them made something warm settle in his chest.

Mike stood there, Rory balanced on his hip, both of them looking absolutely identical—down to their ridiculous, untamed curls that stuck out wildly in every direction. It was almost comical. Clearly, taming curls wasn’t exactly a skill Mike had ever mastered, and it looked like Rory had inherited the same problem.

For a second, Will just took them in—the way Rory’s big hazel eyes blinked up at him, round and curious, before lighting up in recognition. She let out an excited little squeal, wiggling in Mike’s arms, her chubby fingers reaching out toward Will.

Mike shifted his weight, smirking. “Hey, thanks for having us over.”

“Yeah, of course,” Will said automatically. Then, without missing a beat, he held out his arms. “Now, give me Rory.”

Mike gasped in mock offense. “Wow. So you only want me for my baby, huh?”

“Yup,” Will answered easily.

Rory let out another excited squeal, tiny hands stretching even further toward Will, who took her without hesitation. She fit so easily against him, warm and small, her little fingers clutching onto his sweater as she nuzzled against his chest.

Mike crossed his arms. “Wow. I see how it is. I guess I’ll just go, then.”

Will smirked. “You’re so dramatic. Get your ass in here.”

“Nope.” Mike shook his head stubbornly. “Clearly, you just want me for my baby. I’ll just go be alone and unloved.”

Will rolled his eyes, bouncing Rory slightly in his arms. “Can you blame me? She’s the cutest.”

Mike glanced over, watching as Rory snuggled into Will’s shoulder, all giggles and smiles. His face softened, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he sighed dramatically. “I guessss I understand.”

“Exactly,” Will said, grinning. “You get it.” He jerked his head toward the table. “Now come eat. I set everything up.”

Mike stepped inside, glancing around briefly before making a move to take Rory back. He was used to just keeping her on his lap while he ate, balancing her carefully with one arm, but Will sidestepped him completely and walked straight to the table.

Mike’s jaw dropped the second he saw it.

“Will,” he started, voice dripping with suspicion. “What the hell is that?”

Will looked down at the small baby chair tucked neatly at the table, then back at Mike, completely unfazed. “It’s a baby chair, Mike. Obviously.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, I can see that. What I want to know is why you bought one. Those are expensive!”

Will rolled his eyes. “It was like two bucks at a secondhand store. Chill.”

Mike huffed, rubbing his face, “And why, exactly, did you think you needed a baby chair if you didn’t plan this whole dinner?”

Will shrugged, casually buckling Rory in. “I just thought it could be useful at some point.”

Mike exhaled, exasperated. He sighed again, softer this time, then muttered, “Okay.” A beat of hesitation, then, quieter, “Thanks.”

Will just smiled. “Of course.”

He made his way into the kitchen, grabbing a smaller plate he had prepared earlier. While he and Mike were going to have fettuccine with small chunks of chicken, he had made Rory her own batch—big rigatoni pasta and slices of chicken, cut safely into big pieces to prevent any choking hazards. He carried it back and set it in front of Rory, who immediately kicked her little feet in excitement, babbling happily.

Mike turned his head slightly, giving Will a flat, unimpressed look. “Thought you made too much pasta,” he said dryly. “But you made her a whole separate batch?”

Will just shrugged again. “I wasn’t gonna just have her sit there and watch us eat, Mike. What’s wrong with you?” His voice dripped with fake astonishment.

Mike sighed but shook his head, a small laugh breaking through. “Thank you,” he said again, a little softer this time.

They sat down, and for a while, everything was easy. The apartment filled with the sounds of silverware clinking against plates, quiet conversation, and Rory’s happy babbling as she made a complete mess of her food.

It was nice.

Eventually, as Will twirled pasta around his fork, he glanced up at Mike and asked, “So… are you going back home for Thanksgiving?”

Mike immediately froze.

His entire body tensed for a split second, his fork pausing halfway to his mouth. Then, just as quickly, he forced himself to relax. He cleared his throat, twirling his fork between his fingers as he muttered, “Uh… no.”

Will frowned, setting his own fork down. “Why not?”

Mike hesitated. His gaze flickered toward Rory, then back to Will, and there was something almost guilty in his eyes. He exhaled slowly, pressing his lips together before finally answering.

“…My parents don’t really know Rory… exists.”

Will’s fork clattered onto his plate. He stared at Mike, wide-eyed. “What?”

Mike winced, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

Will just stared at him, trying to process what he’d just heard. “Mike,” he said finally, disbelief coloring his voice. “Why?”

Mike sighed, pushing his food around his plate. “What am I supposed to tell them, Will? That I got a girl pregnant and she left us? That I’m raising a baby on my own? That I had to quit college and now I’m living in a shitty apartment while working at a grocery store? I mean…” He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “They’re not exactly gonna take the news great, Will.”

Will was silent for a moment.

He had known that Mike’s relationship with his parents was strained—distant at best—but he hadn’t realized it was this bad. That Mike hadn’t even told them. That he had been carrying all of this alone.

Something in Will ached.

Then, after a moment, he said, “Then I’ll stay here and you can spend Thanksgiving with me.”

Mike blinked, startled. “Will—”

“No, seriously,” Will cut in, leaning forward slightly. “You shouldn’t be alone on Thanksgiving.”

Mike shifted uncomfortably. “I wouldn’t be alone. I have Rory.”

Will huffed, crossing his arms. “Mike. That’s not the same and you know it.”

Mike looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know…”

Will didn’t let up. “Then spend it with my family.”

Mike’s eyes snapped back to him, wide with surprise. “No Will, I can’t just… invade your family’s Thanksgiving like that.”

“Bullshit,” Will said immediately. “You’re basically part of the family already. And you know my mom—she’d love to have you and Rory over. She wouldn’t judge you, Mike. You know that.”

Mike exhaled, his expression conflicted. He did know that. Joyce had never been anything but warm and accepting. If there was anyone who wouldn’t judge him, it was her.

“I know,” he admitted quietly.

Will watched him carefully. Then, softer this time, he said, “Just think about it.”

Mike didn’t answer right away. He glanced at Rory, who was happily smacking the table with her tiny hands, completely oblivious to the weight of the conversation. She deserved to be around people during holidays. 

After a long moment, he sighed.

“I’ll think about it.”

Will nodded, satisfied. He didn’t push.

They both went back to eating, but the air felt different now—heavier, softer. Like something unspoken had just shifted between them.

Chapter Text

After some light bugging throughout the week, okay, literal harassment. Will finally convinced Mike to come to his family’s Thanksgiving. It started with a few “hey did you decide yet?” then phone calls, then Will randomly showing up at Mike’s place just to bring it up again. When all of that failed, Will resorted to sheer, brute-force manipulation.

“You’re seriously just gonna sit in your sad little apartment with your baby on Thanksgiving while I’m stuffing my face with homemade pie and Mom’s turkey?”

“Yes, Will. That is exactly what I’m gonna do.”

“You’re lame.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

“Mike, my mom loves you. You could walk in there covered in dirt, with a baby on each hip, and she’d still kiss your forehead and ask if you were eating enough.”

“…You don’t know that.”

“I do know that.”

And somehow, somehow, that’s how Mike found himself here.

The car was externally packed, like they were moving across the country instead of just going for a few days. The backseat was an absolute disaster—an overstuffed diaper bag, an obnoxiously large tote filled with Rory’s clothes, a cooler with formula and snacks, and, of course, Rory’s portable crib because God forbid she sleep anywhere that wasn’t her sacred, designated sleep zone. Mike had learned that the hard way.

And in the middle of it all, Rory sat strapped in her car seat, kicking her feet happily, completely unaware of the sheer mental breakdown Mike was having in the front seat.

He barely lasted five minutes before he whipped his head back to check on her.

“She’s fine,” Will said without even looking.

“She could be choking on her pacifier,” Mike muttered, peering into the backseat.

“She’s literally just staring out the window.”

Mike huffed, forcing himself to face forward, but not without checking one more time. Just to be sure.

He was shitting actual bricks. He didn’t know how to introduce Rory to Joyce, Hopper, El, and Jonathan. The Byers had been like a second family to him since he was five, but this wasn’t some random sleepover. He wasn’t just showing up for Thanksgiving dinner. He was bringing his daughter.

Like—how the hell was he supposed to drop that bomb?

There was no easy way to say it. No gentle, lead-up conversation to ease into it. Just a straight plunge into the deep end.

“You’re thinking too much,” Will said, breaking through his thoughts.

Mike scoffed. “You don’t even know what I’m thinking.”

“You’re thinking about how you’re gonna tell my family about Rory, how they’re gonna react, if they’re gonna be weird about it, and if you should just turn the car around and make a break for it.”

Mike stared at him, wide-eyed. “Are you a mind reader?”

“No, you’re just obnoxiously predictable. And..I know you.”

Mike rolled his eyes, sinking lower into his seat. “Whatever.”

Will glanced at him briefly before turning his attention back to the road. “Mike, you know my family. They’re not gonna judge you.”

Mike sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I know. It’s just—it’s not that simple, Will.”

“It is that simple,” Will insisted. “My mom’s literally gonna be thrilled. She’s probably gonna start baby-proofing the house the second she sees her.”

Mike groaned, covering his face. “God, you’re making it worse.”

Will laughed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Dude, you should be more worried about Hopper. He’s gonna grill you.”

Mike sat up straight, eyes wide with horror. “Oh, shit.”

“Yup,” Will said cheerfully. “Better get your story straight now.”

Mike flopped back down, groaning dramatically. “He’s gonna kill me. He’s literally gonna murder me in front of everyone.”

“Nah, he likes you.”

“He tolerates me.”

“Okay, true.”

Mike glared at him.

Will smirked. “But you know what’s gonna win him over?”

“What?”

Will grinned, tilting his head back towards Rory. “Her.”

Mike hesitated, glancing over his shoulder again. Rory was still happily babbling to herself, gripping her little sock-covered feet.

“…You think so?”

“Mike, it’s Hopper. You’ve seen how he is with El. He’s gonna take one look at Rory and turn into a complete sap.”

Mike bit his lip, considering it. Maybe. Maybe.

They fell into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, just the soft hum of the road beneath them.

Then Will asked, “Have you talked to your parents lately?”

Mike stiffened.

He hadn’t.

In person, at least.

Not since last year.

The last time he’d seen them was Thanksgiving, 1989. Back when things were still normal. Well, normal enough. His parents were wary of him, his dad was distant, but it was still home.

But by winter break? Everything had changed.

Rory’s mom hadn’t gone home, which meant Mike hadn’t gone home. He’d been stuck, scrambling to figure out what the hell to do, how to raise a whole-ass human when he was barely an adult himself.

And now? Now it had been an entire year since he’d seen his family.

And it hurt.

He missed his mom. He missed Nancy and Holly. He missed home.

His dad?

He missed him an okay amount. ..Not really.

Will must’ve noticed his hesitation because his voice softened. “Mike?”

Mike sighed, rubbing his face. “Iv talked to mom a few times, but she has no clue I dropped out or that I have Rory.

Will frowned, hands tightening on the wheel. “Do they even know where you live?”

Mike shook his head.

“Mike…”

“What am I supposed to do, Will? Just show up at their house with a baby? ‘Hey, Mom, hey Dad, surprise! I had a kid and didn’t tell you for over a year!’ That’ll go over great.”

Will exhaled, glancing at him. “Maybe they’d just be happy to see you.”

Mike scoffed. “Yeah. Sure.”

Will didn’t push it after that, and for a while, they just sat in silence again.

Then Mike cleared his throat. “Do you ever wish you had a dad?”

Will blinked, caught off guard. “…What?”

“Like, after Lonnie left. Did you ever…wish you had a different dad?”

Will frowned, thinking. “I used to. When I was a kid. I thought maybe if I was different, he would’ve stayed. But after Hopper came around? No. I realized I didn’t need him.”

Mike nodded slowly, staring out the window.

“You thinking about your dad?” Will asked.

Mike exhaled. “Yeah. I just—I don’t know. I feel like I failed him. I failed all of them. This isn’t what they wanted for me.”

Will’s jaw tightened. “You didn’t fail, Mike.”

Mike let out a dry laugh. “Feels like it.”

“You’re raising Rory. You’re doing everything for her. That’s not failure.”

Mike didn’t answer, just kept his eyes on the road ahead.

Will sighed. “You know what I think?”

“What?”

“I think you need to stop punishing yourself.”

Mike snorted. “Easier said than done.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’ve got me.”

Mike rolled his eyes, but there was a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips.

And then, finally—

Will turned onto the long, familiar driveway.

Mike’s stomach flipped.

It was happening.

He was here.

And in just a few minutes, he’d be standing in front of Joyce Byers with a baby on his hip, trying to find the words to explain everything.

Chapter Text

Mike adjusted his hold on Rory as they made their way up the driveway, the crisp autumn air making his fingers just a little numb. His heart pounded harder with each step closer to the door, his nerves gnawing at him relentlessly. Will, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease, walking up the steps with a lightness that made Mike resent him just a little.

“You’re freaking out for no reason,” Will muttered as he pressed the doorbell.

Mike shot him a glare, shifting Rory in his arms. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to explain why you suddenly have a kid.”

Will rolled his eyes but didn’t push it. The seconds stretched unbearably long as they waited for the door to open. Mike swallowed, tightening his grip on Rory as though she were some sort of shield against the judgment he was terrified of facing.

Then, the door swung open.

Joyce’s face lit up at the sight of Will first, her whole expression softening with the kind of warmth that always made Mike feel like he was home, even if this wasn’t his actual house. But then her eyes landed on him, and more importantly, on the baby in his arms. Her smile faltered for just a fraction of a second—just long enough for Mike’s stomach to drop—before it returned, even bigger than before.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, her eyes shining as she pulled Will into a tight hug before turning to Mike. “Mike, sweetheart, get over here.”

Before he could even react, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a hug, squishing Rory between them. Mike stiffened at first, but Joyce just held on tighter, and for a moment, he let himself sink into it.

“I missed you too,” he mumbled, a little embarrassed but mostly just relieved.

Joyce pulled back after a moment, finally taking a proper look at Rory. She blinked, her expression shifting into one of curiosity and adoration. “And who is this?” she asked softly, her voice full of warmth.

Mike exhaled slowly, still feeling on edge, but Joyce’s reaction so far made him feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.

“This is Aurora,” he said, glancing down at Rory, who was watching Joyce with wide, sleepy eyes. “Rory, for short. She’s… she’s mine.”

Joyce didn’t ask him if he was sure. She didn’t frown or look disappointed. She didn’t demand an explanation right away. Instead, her face softened even more as she let out a breathy, delighted laugh.

“She’s beautiful,” Joyce murmured, and she sounded like she meant it. She reached out, touching Rory’s tiny hand with her fingertips. “Oh, honey. Look at you.”

Rory let out a little noise, kicking her legs, and Joyce laughed again. Mike hadn’t even realized how tense he was until that moment, when his shoulders finally relaxed just a little.

“Come in, come in,” Joyce said quickly, ushering them inside. “You can grab your bags later.”

Mike hesitated for only a second before stepping over the threshold, Rory still secure in his arms. The house was just as warm and inviting as he remembered, and for a moment, nostalgia hit him hard. The Byers’ house had always been one of his favorite places. Even now, when everything in his life felt so wildly different, that hadn’t changed.

Joyce led them toward the kitchen table, motioning for them to sit. Will flopped down easily, like he belonged there (which he did), and Mike hesitated only a second before doing the same.

As soon as they were settled, Joyce smiled, folding her arms on the table. “So, tell me—how have you been? What have you two been up to?”

Mike let out a nervous chuckle, bouncing Rory slightly on his lap. “Uh… you know. Just working, taking care of this one. Nothing too exciting.”

Will snorted. “Nothing too exciting? Mike, you have a whole baby. That’s about as exciting as it gets.”

Mike shot him a look, but Joyce just smiled. “I’m sure it keeps you busy,” she said kindly.

“Yeah,” Mike admitted. “She definitely does.”

Joyce looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, after a brief pause, she finally asked, “So… can I ask? Who’s her mom? Do I know her?”

Mike felt his whole body go still for a second. He swallowed, feeling his throat tighten, but Joyce’s voice had been gentle, not demanding.

“She, uh…” He licked his lips, suddenly finding it difficult to meet her eyes. “She isn’t around.”

Joyce’s brows furrowed slightly, but not in judgment—just quiet concern. She reached out, placing a warm hand over his. “I’m so sorry, Mike.”

He exhaled, glancing down at Rory, who was now happily babbling to herself. “It’s okay,” he said, though he wasn’t sure if that was true. “She just… wasn’t interested. She kind of checked out before Rory was even born.”

Joyce squeezed his hand gently. “That’s not okay,” she said, her voice firm but full of sympathy. “But I’m really glad that Rory has you.”

Mike blinked a few times, feeling something unfamiliar tug at his chest. He wasn’t used to people saying things like that to him.

Joyce then turned her attention fully to Rory, her face lighting up again. “Can I hold her?”

Mike nodded, shifting to hand Rory over. Joyce took her carefully, adjusting her so she was secure in her arms, and Mike watched, mesmerized, as Joyce started gently swaying with her.

“Oh, she’s precious,” Joyce murmured. Rory blinked up at her with big, curious eyes, reaching out to grab the edge of her sweater. Joyce laughed. “Oh, she’s got a strong grip.”

“She does,” Mike said, unable to hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “She’s always grabbing my hair.”

“I bet,” Joyce laughed, playing with Rory’s tiny fingers.

Will, who had been quiet for a moment, finally asked, “Where is everyone else?”

“Oh,” Joyce said, glancing toward the kitchen. “They all went to grab stuff for dinner. Jonathan, El, and Hop ran to the store for last-minute groceries, and I stayed behind to make sure someone was here to greet you.”

Mike nodded, feeling another wave of nerves at the thought of seeing the rest of them. It wasn’t that he thought they’d react badly—if Joyce had taken it this well, they probably would too—but still, the idea of introducing his daughter to people who had known him since he was a little kid felt overwhelming.

Joyce must have noticed the shift in his expression because she reached out, squeezing his hand again. “You don’t have to be nervous,” she assured him. “Everyone’s going to be so happy to see you. And to meet Rory.”

Mike nodded, though he wasn’t sure if he actually believed her. But he wanted to.

Rory let out a little noise, kicking her legs again, and Joyce grinned. “She’s a wiggly one, huh?”

Mike huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. She never stays still for long.”

Joyce just smiled, rocking Rory gently. “She’s perfect,” she said softly.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, Rory nestled comfortably in his lap, while Will sprawled out beside him, flipping through an old photo album Joyce had pulled out. The warmth of the Byers’ home settled around him like a heavy blanket, but even that wasn’t enough to fully push away the nerves still coiled tight in his stomach.

He was trying—really trying—to let himself relax. Joyce had been nothing but welcoming, and Rory, oblivious to all the tension, had been perfectly content, babbling happily as Joyce held her. But there was still a part of Mike bracing for something to go wrong, for a reaction that might feel like a slap to the face. He wasn’t sure why he expected it—these people had always been his second family—but the fear lingered anyway.

The sound of the front door opening made him sit up straighter, his hands tightening instinctively around Rory as boots scuffed against the floor. Then, voices—low, casual conversation, the rustling of paper bags.

“Jesus, it’s freezing out there,” Hopper grumbled as he stepped inside, shaking some of the cold from his coat. Jonathan followed behind him, arms full of grocery bags, and El trailed in last, carrying a smaller bag in her arms.

At first, none of them seemed to notice Mike and Rory sitting on the floor. Jonathan was busy setting the groceries down, El was chatting animatedly about something she had seen at the store, and Hopper was shrugging out of his coat. It wasn’t until Jonathan turned, eyes scanning the room, that he finally spotted them.

And then, everything stopped.

Jonathan’s gaze landed on the baby in Mike’s lap, and his expression froze mid-motion. El followed his line of sight, her eyes going wide, and even Hopper, who had been in the middle of muttering something about the cold, fell silent.

The quiet that followed was almost deafening.

Mike felt himself shrinking under their gazes, his throat tightening. He wasn’t sure why it suddenly felt so much harder to speak, but the words caught in his throat, leaving him feeling exposed under their stunned stares.

Then, somehow, he forced out a small, almost pitiful, “Uh—she’s mine.”

The words barely had time to settle before El let out a high-pitched squeal.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing in place. “Mike! You have a baby?”

Mike let out a breathless chuckle, a little stunned by the enthusiasm, and nodded. “Yeah.”

El’s excitement didn’t dim for even a second. She hurried forward, dropping onto the floor in front of them, her eyes shining as she looked at Rory. “She’s so tiny,” she breathed, reaching out slightly before hesitating. “Can I hold her?”

Mike nodded, still reeling from how easy that was. “Yeah, of course.”

Carefully, he transferred Rory into El’s waiting arms, watching as she cradled her with the kind of care that made something warm settle in Mike’s chest. El gazed down at Rory, completely mesmerized, gently bouncing her as Rory blinked up at her with wide eyes.

Jonathan, meanwhile, had finally snapped out of his initial shock. A slow smile pulled at his lips as he walked over, settling down on the couch behind El. His eyes flickered between Mike and Rory, and then he let out a soft chuckle.

“Hey uh..congrats, man,” he said simply.

Mike felt some of the tension in his shoulders melt away, a small, relieved smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks.”

And then there was Hopper.

Mike hadn’t let himself think too much about what Hopper’s reaction would be, mostly because it made his stomach twist uncomfortably. But now, as the man stepped forward, Mike found himself tensing up all over again.

Hopper was intimidating on a normal day, and Mike had never quite figured out where he stood with him. Sure, they had moments of mutual understanding, and he had always been there for El, for all of them, but still—this felt different.

Hopper looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Mike braced himself for questions, for maybe even some kind of lecture. But then, without a single word, Hopper just… hugged him.

Mike stiffened for half a second, caught completely off guard. But then, the weight of it hit him all at once. It wasn’t an awkward, hesitant hug—it was warm and firm, steady in a way that made Mike feel like his knees might buckle if he weren’t already sitting.

Hopper didn’t say anything. He didn’t ask any questions, didn’t tell him he was too young, didn’t push for details. He just held him. Like he knew he needed it.

And Mike almost wanted to cry.

Because no one had done that yet. Everyone had asked things, reacted with shock, with confusion, with concern. But Hopper just hugged him like that was all that needed to be said. And maybe, for the first time, Mike let himself believe that he wasn’t completely alone in this.

When Hopper finally pulled back, he gave Mike a small, almost imperceptible smile.

“So,” he said, his voice quieter than usual, “what’s her name?”

Mike swallowed, shifting a little before answering, “Aurora. Rory, for short.”

El gasped, her eyes lighting up. “Like the princess!”

Mike let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah. Like the princess.”

El giggled, rocking Rory slightly, and even Jonathan chuckled from his spot on the couch.

And just like that, the tension in the room was gone.

They all settled into an easy rhythm after that, with El completely enamored by Rory, Jonathan watching with quiet amusement, and even Hopper seeming oddly relaxed about the whole thing. Joyce came back in at some point, smiling warmly at the scene before her, and Mike… well, Mike felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Safe.

He hadn’t realized how much he had been holding his breath until now, when he could finally let it out.

Chapter Text

The entire afternoon had been dedicated to cooing over Rory, fussing over her like she was the most important person in the world—and, honestly, she kind of was.

The Byers seemed to agree because they had all been absolutely enthralled by her, treating her like she was some kind of tiny celebrity. And Rory, ever the attention-loving little thing, was absolutely eating it up. Every time someone clapped for her, she’d break into that big, gummy grin of hers, wiggling her arms excitedly like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Look at her!” El had gasped earlier, her eyes shining like Rory had just discovered the cure for cancer rather than, y’know, just sitting up without immediately tipping over.

“She’s so strong,” Jonathan had added, nodding in approval as if Rory was an Olympic athlete instead of a baby who had only recently figured out how to stay upright for more than 15 seconds.

Mike had just laughed, shaking his head. “You guys are so easily impressed.”

“Uh, duh,” Will shot back, nudging Mike with his elbow. “She’s basically our first baby. You don’t think we’re gonna hype her up?”

Mike blinked at him. “Our?”

Will froze for a second, like he hadn’t realized what he said, before quickly correcting himself. “I mean, your baby, obviously.” He coughed. “We’re just—y’know—honorary cheerleaders.”

Mike rolled his eyes but felt something warm settle in his chest anyway. It was kind of nice, seeing how much they all cared.

El, especially, had been completely enamored with Rory from the second she laid eyes on her. She had practically begged Mike to let her hold her, cradling Rory in her arms like she was the most delicate, precious thing in the world.

“This is my first time holding a real baby,” El had said, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was afraid speaking too loud might scare Rory away.

Mike had frowned slightly at that, something twisting in his stomach. Of course, it made sense—El hadn’t exactly had the most normal childhood. It wasn’t like she had grown up around younger siblings or baby cousins or family friends with infants.

He had opened his mouth to say something—he wasn’t sure what, exactly—before Joyce had beaten him to it, giving El a warm smile. “Well, you’re a natural.”

El had looked up, visibly pleased by the praise, before glancing back down at Rory, her fingers lightly brushing over Rory’s tiny hands. “She’s so small.”

“She’s getting bigger every day,” Mike had said, watching as Rory gave El a curious look before reaching up and grabbing a handful of her hair.

El had gasped, delighted, while Mike snorted. “Yeah, uh, you might wanna watch out—she’s got a death grip.”

“She just likes me,” El had said, completely ignoring Mike’s warning.

To be fair, she wasn’t exactly wrong—Rory did seem to be taking a particular liking to her. She had been perfectly content in El’s arms, occasionally letting out happy little giggles whenever El bounced her slightly or rubbed soft circles into her tiny back.

Joyce had been a close second when it came to holding Rory. She had been absolutely smitten, cooing at her softly and sneaking her forehead kisses every chance she got. And, more importantly, she had been making very deliberate eye contact with Hopper every time she looked at Rory, as if silently saying,Wouldn’t it be nice to have another one of these?

Mike had caught it immediately, and he could tell Hopper had noticed too because he kept rolling his eyes every time Joyce glanced at him, though the amused little smile tugging at the corner of his lips kind of gave him away.

Mike had to fight back a smirk. Yeah. He was definitely giving Joyce baby fever. But hey—if she wanted another kid, that was Hopper’s problem, not his.

The evening had continued on in that same easy rhythm, full of laughter and soft chatter, everyone taking turns fussing over Rory. By the time eight rolled around, Will stretched out his arms with a yawn before announcing, “I’m gonna hit the showers,” and disappearing down the hall.

Mike just hummed in acknowledgment, watching as El gently rocked Rory back and forth while Joyce busied herself with clearing some of the mugs off the table.

It was… nice. Comfortable.

Which was weird. He had spent days stressing over how this would go, expecting the worst, but none of that had happened. 

And maybe it shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.

When Will eventually came back, fresh out of the shower, he was wearing a faded band tee and some plaid pajama pants, his damp hair still sticking to his forehead a little. He shot Mike a pointed look as he ran a towel over his head.

“You gonna shower?”

“Yeah,” Mike mumbled, rubbing at his eyes before getting up. Without really thinking about it, he turned toward the front door.

“Where are you going?” Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mike hesitated. “Uh. Just gonna grab Rory’s bouncer.”

Will’s brow furrowed. “Why?”

Mike shifted on his feet, feeling weirdly awkward. “So I can take her in there with me. Y’know..so I can keep an eye on her?”

At that, Joyce let out a little amused scoff, shaking her head as she bounced Rory on her knee. “That’s ridiculous, sweetheart. You’ve got plenty of people here to watch her while you shower.”

Mike hesitated. He knew that, logically, but—

“I don’t mind,” Joyce added. “Go take a shower, honey.”

Mike still hesitated, glancing around at everyone. “Are you sure? It’s no problem—I can just take her with me.”

“YES!,” everyone in the living room responded at once, their voices overlapping in exasperation.

Mike blinked, caught off guard by the synchronized response, before sighing in defeat. “Jeez, okay, okay,” he muttered, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Will rolled his eyes at him. “You're so stubborn.”

Mike just shook his head. “Whatever.”

He made his way over to the bag they had left near the entrance and dug around for his change of clothes and toiletries before heading toward the bathroom. As he passed by Joyce, she gave him a gentle pat on the arm, as if to say, She’s safe with us.

And he knew that. Of course, he knew that.

But it was still weird, leaving her with new people, even just for a few minutes. 

Still, if there was anyone he trusted, it was them.

And, okay, maybe—just maybe—it would be kind of nice to take a shower without having to check on her every five seconds. 

By the time he stepped under the warm spray, letting the water cascade over him, he let himself close his eyes for a second, exhaling slowly.

Yeah. This was… nice.

When Mike disappeared into the bathroom, Will took it upon himself to start making dinner. It wasn’t anything fancy—just reheating leftovers and putting something together that was quick and filling. He knew Mike was probably starving after the long drive, and besides, keeping himself busy gave him something to focus on.

The house was warm, the smell of home-cooked meals still lingering in the air. The soft hum of the stove filled the silence in the kitchen, and the low murmur of conversation from the living room made everything feel…normal. Comfortable. It felt good to have Mike here, to have Rory here. 

He flipped the stove off just as a sudden cry pierced through the air.

Rory.

His stomach clenched.

It started off as a soft whimper, the kind of sleepy fussing babies sometimes did, but within seconds, it escalated into a full-on wail. Will immediately turned toward the living room, his hands instinctively reaching for a towel to wipe his hands off.

El’s voice was soft but uncertain as she bounced Rory lightly in her arms. “Shhh, it’s okay, Rory. Mike will be right back.”

But it wasn’t enough.

“Da!” Rory sobbed, her little fists clenching at the air.

Will’s breath caught in his throat.

“El, is she okay?” he called, stepping away from the stove. He tried to keep his voice steady, but there was a tightness in his chest, a twisting sort of feeling that made it harder to breathe. He barely gave El time to respond before rushing into the living room.

When he got there, Rory was still in El’s arms, her face blotchy red from crying, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Her tiny hands were reaching toward something—or someone—that wasn’t there.

The second she saw Will, her cries hitched, and her arms shot out toward him desperately.

“Da!”

The air left Will’s lungs.

Oh.

His body moved on instinct. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate. He just stepped forward and scooped her up, holding her close as she immediately buried her face into his chest, little hiccuping sobs still escaping her.

“Shhh, baby, I got you,” he murmured, swaying slightly as he rubbed her back. “You’re okay. I got you.”

She clung to him, her tiny hands gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping her safe. He could feel her heartbeat, quick and frantic against his own.

When he looked up, everyone was staring at him.

His mom had her hands clasped over her heart, her eyes glistening with something soft and unreadable. Hopper stood with his arms crossed, an unreadable expression on his face, but there was something there—something Will couldn’t quite name. El was practically glowing, looking between him and Rory like she’d just witnessed the most heartwarming thing in the world. And Jonathan—Jonathan had that small, knowing smile on his face, like he understood something Will didn’t yet.

Will swallowed, suddenly feeling like the room was way too small.

Rory sniffled against his shirt, her face still tucked into him.

And then she did it again.

“Da,” she whimpered softly, her little hands tugging at his shirt.

Will felt something inside him crack.

He sucked in a breath, his grip on her tightening for just a moment.

God.

He wasn’t her dad.

He knew that. He knew that.

She was just a baby. Babies made sounds. Babies mimicked things. She didn’t mean it.

But it still made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t ready to deal with.

Rory sniffled again, her little hands now pulling at her lips in that familiar way she did when she was hungry.

“Alright, I get it, you’re hungry” Will said, clearing his throat, his voice a little too thick. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

“Can you hold her for a sec?”

He tried to pass her off to Joyce so he could make her bottle, but the second he moved to do so, she started fussing again.

Her little hands reached out for him, her face scrunching up in distress.

More soft, pleading “da’s.”

Will felt a lump form in his throat.

“Looks like you’ve been claimed,” Jonathan said lightly, his voice teasing but gentle.

Will let out a soft, breathy laugh that sounded a little too much like he was struggling to breathe.

“I guess so,” he muttered, adjusting Rory in his arms and carrying her into the kitchen.

She sniffled but didn’t cry this time, just settled against his chest, her little fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as he moved.

He focused on making the bottle, trying to keep his hands steady. He knew they were watching him from the living room, knew his mom was probably already dreaming up some fantasy of him having kids of his own someday. Kids he would never have. But he couldn’t think about that right now.

Not when Rory was still looking up at him with those big, trusting eyes.

Not when her tiny, sleepy murmurs of “da” were still echoing in his head.

Once the bottle was ready, he sat back down on the couch, settling Rory against him as she latched onto it eagerly. Her little body relaxed completely, her tiny hands resting against his chest as she drank.

Will let out a slow, shaky breath and looked down at her.

She was so small. So trusting.

So safe in his arms.

He felt something deep in his chest tighten, like a wound he hadn’t realized was there had just been ripped open.

God.

He’d spent so much time playing pretend. Pretending he was fine. Pretending he wasn’t lonely. Pretending he hadn’t already formed a bond with Rory that he didn’t quite know what to do with.

But hearing her call him “da”—whether it was just a sound or something deeper—had shattered something inside him.

He wanted to cry.

But he couldn’t.

Not with his mom, Hopper, El, and Jonathan still watching.

So instead, he just leaned his head back against the couch, carded a hand through Rory’s soft curls, and focused on the slow, even breaths she took as she drifted off to sleep against him.

It wasn’t until he glanced up again that he realized his mom was still watching him.

There was something so unbearably soft in her expression. Like she wanted to say something but didn’t want to overwhelm him.

He knew that look.

She was waiting for him to say something first.

But he didn’t.

He just swallowed, gave her a small, tight-lipped smile, and looked back down at Rory.

And Joyce, thankfully, didn’t push.

Instead, she just reached over, brushed a gentle hand over Rory’s back, and whispered, “You’re really good with her honey.”

Will’s throat felt tight.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I guess I am.”

He didn’t look up again after that.

Because if he did, he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep everything inside.

Chapter Text

The living room was quiet when Mike walked back in, his hair damp from the shower and clinging slightly to his forehead. He had on an old pair of pajama pants that had started to fade from too many washes and a plain yellow T-shirt that clung just a little too much to his skin while still feeling loose enough to be comfortable. He paused in the doorway, his eyes landing on Will sitting on the couch with Rory resting on his chest, her tiny face peaceful and relaxed.

For a moment, Mike just stood there. There was something so natural about it, the way Will cradled her so effortlessly, like she’d always been his. Rory’s tiny fingers were curled in the fabric of Will’s shirt, and Will’s hand was resting securely over her back, like he’d done it a thousand times before. Mike couldn’t stop himself from smiling softly at the sight.

Mike crossed the room quietly and lowered himself onto the couch beside Will. “Oh,” he said softly, nodding toward Rory, “she was tired, huh?”

“Yeah,” Joyce answered from her chair nearby. “She’s completely out.”

“She’s so cute when she’s asleep,” El added, resting her chin in her hands from where she sat on the floor.

“Yeah,” Mike agreed with a fond smile. “I love watching her sleep.” He reached out and gently brushed his fingers over Rory’s tiny curls. “Sometimes, when I have time, I just… sit there. I know it sounds dumb, but… I just watch her.”

“It’s not dumb,” Joyce said softly.

“It’s sweet,” El added with a grin.

Mike felt his face warm, but before he could say anything else, Joyce stood and stretched. “Well,” she said, “it’s late. You boys should get some rest.”

“Yeah,” Will agreed, rolling his shoulders like he was just now realizing how stiff he was from sitting still for so long.

Mike stood and reached for Rory carefully, trying not to disturb her. But the moment her little body left Will’s chest, her face scrunched up, her eyes fluttered open, and her tiny voice croaked out, “Da…”

Mike’s smiled softly, and he quickly rocked her against him, shushing her softly. “Yeah,” he murmured, “Da’s here.” He ran his hand gently down her back, feeling her body relax against him again.

But as he soothed Rory back to sleep, Will sat frozen on the couch. His mind raced.

Mike, oblivious to Will’s spiraling thoughts, set Rory back down carefully in her bassinet near the couch. Then he grabbed something from his bag and started setting it up in the middle of the living room.

“What are you doing?” Will asked, frowning.

Mike glanced over his shoulder. “Uh… setting up for bed?”

Will scoffed. “On the couch?”

“Yeah?” Mike replied, like it was obvious.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Will said flatly.

Mike blinked. “What?”

“You’re sleeping in my room,” Will said with finality. “All of us are.”

Mike hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna —”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Will cut in, rolling his eyes. “Come on.”

With a half-smile, Mike grabbed his things and followed Will down the hall.

Mike placed Rory gently on Will’s bed while he dug through their bags, pulling out her pajamas and a fresh diaper. She stirred slightly, scrunching her face in disapproval as Mike whispered a quiet apology.

“Oh no,” Mike murmured softly in a baby voice. “How dare I, huh? How dare da wake you up from your precious sleep?”

He changed her quietly, whispering soft reassurances when she started to fuss. “Shhh,” he murmured, swaying slightly on his feet. “It’s okay, baby, I know… you’re so tired, huh?”

By the time she was back in her pajamas, Rory’s eyes were drooping again. Mike hummed softly as he swayed with her in his arms, gently rocking her until her breathing slowed and evened out. Carefully, he placed her in the bassinet beside Will’s bed.

Turning back to Will, he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh… you got any extra blankets? Or a sleeping bag or something?”

“For what?” Will asked, raising a brow.

Mike blinked. “…For me?”

Will frowned. “You’re not sleeping on the floor.”

Mike pointed toward the floor awkwardly. “I mean… yeah?”

“Mike.” Will’s face turned a little pink, but he shook his head firmly. “Just… share the bed with me.”

Mike hesitated. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Will said. “It’s a king-sized bed. We’ll fit.”

Mike swallowed thickly, but nodded. “Okay… yeah, sure.”

The two climbed into bed, the room settling into a calm quiet. After a moment, Mike glanced over and asked, “So… why do you have such a giant bed anyway?”

Will snorted softly. “It was the first thing I bought when I got my summer job before college,” he said. “Stupid, right? I don’t know… I guess since I was a kid I always wanted a big bed. It just seemed… nice.”

“That’s not stupid,” Mike said with a quiet smile.

Will grinned. “Yeah, well… turns out it’s too big for my apartment, so I left it here. Now I get to feel like royalty whenever I visit.”

Mike snorted, laughing softly. “Yeah, you’re real high class, Byers.”

“Obviously,” Will shot back with a grin.

They both laughed quietly, the warmth of it settling over them. After a moment, the room grew quiet again — not awkward, just… peaceful.

Mike’s eyes started to drift shut, but before sleep claimed him, he murmured, “You’re really good with her, you know.”

Will blinked. “What?”

“Rory,” Mike whispered, voice soft and tired. “You’re really good with her.

Not too long after they had fallen asleep, soft cries began to rise from the bassinet. They were quiet at first — little whimpers that barely broke through the silence of the room. But Mike’s body stirred almost immediately, his mind barely registering the sound before he was already sitting up.

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, still half-asleep, and stumbled out of bed on autopilot. Without a second thought, he reached into the bassinet and scooped Rory into his arms.

“Shhh… shhh, it’s okay,” he murmured, rocking her gently. His voice was soft, low, barely above a whisper. He swayed back and forth on instinct, running his fingers through her curls as her cries quieted into soft whimpers.

Will peeked his head up from beneath the blankets, squinting in the dim light.

“What’s wrong?” Will asked, his voice groggy.

Mike shook his head. “Nothing… sorry,” he whispered. “She just gets fussy sometimes.”

Will hummed in response, his eyes already closing again as he burrowed back under the covers.

Mike stood there a minute longer, rocking Rory until her tiny body relaxed against his chest. He laid her back in her bassinet as carefully as he could and returned to bed, trying not to wake Will in the process.

But it didn’t last.

An hour later, the soft cries started again. Mike’s eyes barely opened this time — his body just moved, like it was wired to react before he even processed what was happening. He scooped Rory up, whispering soft reassurances against her hair as he bounced her gently.

Again, she calmed down after a few minutes. And again, Mike eased her back into her bassinet.

It happened four more times throughout the night — each time Mike got up, a little more embarrassed, a little more exhausted, as if somehow this was his fault. Each time, Will’s sleepy voice would mumble something like, “She okay?” or “You good?” and Mike would whisper back, “Yeah… yeah, sorry.”

By the fourth time, Mike didn’t even bother trying to go back to bed. It was obvious what Rory wanted — to be held, nothing more — and Mike figured if she was going to stay awake like this, he might as well make it easier for both of them.

Carefully, he scooped her up one last time and carried her out to the living room.

The house was dark except for the faint glow of the kitchen clock. Mike sat down on the couch, shifting Rory in his arms until her head was tucked beneath his chin.

“Alright, kid,” he muttered softly. “You win.”

Rory’s tiny fingers curled against his shirt, her breathing slow and steady now that she was exactly where she wanted to be.

Mike let his head fall back against the couch. His eyes burned with exhaustion, but he couldn’t fall asleep — not fully. He kept his arms wrapped securely around her, kept his ears tuned in case she started fussing again.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there before Will appeared in the doorway. His hair was messy, sticking up at odd angles, and his shirt was wrinkled from sleep. He rubbed at his face, still half-awake, and frowned when he spotted Mike on the couch.

“What’s wrong?” Will asked quietly, stepping closer.

Mike sighed and shook his head. “Sorry for waking you up,” he said. “She just… sometimes she wants to be held all night. Nothing I can do.”

Will yawned and ran a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you just stay in bed?”

“Because she’s just gonna wake up again,” Mike said tiredly. “I figured I’d save us both the trouble.”

“Well…” Will paused, his gaze flicking between Mike and Rory. “Just come lay on the bed with her. It’s fine.”

Mike blinked at him, surprised. “I dunno… she might still get fussy even if I’m holding her.”

Will shrugged. “Yeah, well… you still need to sleep too.”

“I’m fine,” Mike said quickly, shaking his head.

“You’re not fine,” Will shot back, his voice low but firm. “You’ve been up all night.” He stepped closer and reached his hands out. “Here… give her to me.”

Mike instinctively tightened his grip, unsure. “I don’t know if she’ll stay asleep for you…”

“Mike,” Will said patiently, “just go to bed. I can handle her.”

“I dunno…”

“Seriously,” Will said. “Look, I’ll hold her for a while, you get some rest, and then we can switch. Deal?”

Mike still hesitated, but Will’s outstretched hands didn’t waver.

With a tired sigh, Mike reluctantly handed Rory over. He lingered for a second, adjusting the blanket around her and fussing with her curls like it would somehow make her more comfortable.

“She likes it when you rub her back in circles,” Mike muttered quietly. “And sometimes she makes these little noises when she’s falling asleep — they sound like she’s waking up, but she’s not, so don’t—”

“Mike,” Will said, cutting him off. “I know. I got this.”

Mike looked at him for a moment longer, the exhaustion clear in his eyes, before finally nodding.

“Yeah…” he muttered. “Okay.”

He dragged himself back to Will’s room, his body feeling heavier with each step. The moment he hit the mattress, his eyes shut, and the world went dark.

Back in the living room, Will stood for a moment, shifting Rory in his arms until she was cradled against his chest. Her face was soft and peaceful now, her tiny hand curled against his shirt.

“Okay, kid,” Will whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

Rory stirred a little, her face scrunching up in protest. Will immediately started rubbing slow circles on her back, whispering softly just like Mike had told him to.

“Shhh… it’s okay,” Will murmured. “I’ve got you.”

She let out a soft sigh, her fingers curling tighter into his shirt as she settled back down.

Will smiled softly to himself.

Was Will lying when he said he’d wake up Mike so they could take turns with Rory?

Yes. Yes, he was.

And so what? So what if he let Mike sleep through the whole night? The way Mike had gotten up on autopilot every time Rory made the faintest noise — no hesitation, no grogginess, just instant awareness — told Will everything he needed to know.

Mike was used to this. Used to waking up several times a night, used to rocking Rory back to sleep, used to barely resting at all. Will didn’t know how long it had been like this, but one thing was clear: Mike was tired. Not just a little tired — bone tired.

So yeah, Will let him sleep.

He stretched out on the couch, Rory still resting soundly on his chest. He dozed off a few times himself, but never fully. His body wouldn’t let him. Every little shift, every slight wiggle from Rory, snapped him right back to consciousness. It wasn’t panic exactly, just… instinct. Like his body had switched into some weird in-between state — half-awake, half-asleep — but never fully relaxed. His arm stayed locked around Rory, his hand resting protectively against her back.

It was exhausting. His muscles ached, his head throbbed, and every blink felt like his eyes were sinking deeper into his skull. How the hell does Mike do this every night?

By the time the clock on the wall blinked 7:00 AM, Will was absolutely wrecked. His whole body felt heavy, his eyes were burning, and yet… he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.

Because Mike got to sleep. Really sleep. And Will figured if anyone deserved one good, uninterrupted night of rest, it was him.

A little while later, Will heard the soft creak of a door opening down the hall. He kept his eyes closed but cracked them open just enough to see Mike emerging from his room.

Mike’s hair was a mess, sticking up in about five different directions and his shirt was rumpled from tossing and turning. He looked a little confused at first, blinking blearily as he scanned the room.

When his eyes landed on Will, he froze. His brows furrowed, and then his face shifted into something closer to exasperation.

“Seriously?” Mike muttered, stepping closer.

Will sighed, already knowing where this was going.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Mike asked, standing over him with his hands on his hips. “We were supposed to switch.”

Will shifted a little, careful not to disturb Rory. “Because you needed to sleep,” he said, voice heavy with fatigue. “Real sleep — not that ‘wake up every hour and pace the floor’ crap you’re probably used to.”

“I do sleep,” Mike said defensively.

“That’s not sleep,” Will shot back, sitting up just enough to glare at him. “You needed rest. Actual rest. And I’m not gonna die of exhaustion just because I took care of her for one night.”

Mike sighed, dragging a hand down his face. He didn’t argue this time, which said a lot.

“Okay,” he muttered finally, voice softer. “Okay… thank you.”

Will smiled a little, letting his head fall back against the couch cushion. “No problem.”

As if she’d been waiting for their conversation to end, Rory began to stir. Her tiny body wriggled against Will’s chest, her face scrunching up in that adorable way that always seemed to mean I’m waking up, and I’m mad about it.

Will shifted slightly, adjusting his arm to support her better. Rory blinked up at him, still drowsy, her hair sticking out in soft curls. Her little face was puffy from sleep, and when her eyes met his, she gave him a tired, gummy smile.

Then she brought both of her hands up to his face — small, chubby fingers patting his cheeks clumsily — and sleepily mumbled, “Da…”

Will froze. His heart stopped, and for a second, it felt like the world had tipped off its axis.

Rory just blinked up at him, still half-asleep, her hands still pressed against his face like she was mapping out his features. She babbled again, another soft, sleepy, “Da…”

Will’s breath caught in his throat, his chest tightening in a way that hurt and warmed him all at once.

Before he could react, Mike’s eyes went wide. His mouth opened slightly like he wanted to say something — wanted to ask Did she just…?— but instead, he swallowed it down. His face softened, and he stepped closer with a small smile.

Rory’s head flopped back against Will’s chest like her sudden burst of energy had drained her.

Mike leaned down so she could see him better. As soon as her eyes found him, her tired smile widened, and she reached out her hands again. “Da da da da…” she babbled, her fingers waving wildly.

This time, Mike laughed — really laughed. The sound was soft but warm, and something about it made Will’s chest ache.

Mike scooped her up, holding her close to his chest. “Oh, princess Aurora,” he cooed softly, rocking her side to side, “finally decided to awaken from her slumber, huh?”

Rory giggled — a happy, bubbly sound — and reached for Mike’s face again, this time managing to grab his nose and tug on it like it was her new favorite toy.

Rory grunted and tugged on his lips this time, her face scrunching up in frustration.

“Okay, okay,” Mike chuckled. “I get it — you’re hungry.”

“I’ll get you some milk,” Mike said softly, already moving toward the kitchen.

Will watched them go, his body sagging deeper into the couch. His muscles ached, his eyes felt like they were on fire, and his brain felt like it was only half-functioning. But none of that mattered right now.

Because Rory had called him ‘Da.’ Again.

Even if it didn’t mean what his heart wanted it to mean — even if she was just babbling sounds that happened to resemble words — it still clung to him like a warm weight in his chest.

“Hey,” Will said, forcing his eyes to stay open a little longer. “I’m gonna… crash for a bit. Wake me up if you need anything.”

“Yeah,” Mike called back. “Sure thing.”

But Will knew he wouldn’t.

Because Mike would keep doing what he always did — quietly taking care of everything, never asking for help, never giving himself a break.

But at least tonight… at least for one night… Mike had gotten some real rest.

And Will?

Will could live with the ache in his bones if it meant Mike didn’t have to carry the whole world on his shoulders alone.

Chapter Text

The air was crisp, carrying the scent of damp leaves and the distant aroma of fireplaces still burning out from the night before. Mike pulled his hoodie tighter over his head, his breath visible in the morning chill. Rory was snug against his chest, warm in her little jacket, her tiny hands gripping the fabric of his hoodie as he walked. She wasn’t fully asleep, but she wasn’t completely awake either—just in that soft, in-between stage where she would occasionally sigh or shift her face against him.

It was too early for anyone to really be out, which is exactly why Mike had decided on this walk in the first place. The Byers’ house had started to feel small, suffocating even, and he needed some air. It felt nice to just exist outside for a while without anyone asking him a million questions.

He made his way toward the small park near the edge of the neighborhood, the one they had all used to ride their bikes past when they were kids. It looked smaller now, emptier. The swings creaked softly in the morning wind, the slide was still the same rusted orange color, and the old monkey bars where they used to challenge each other to hang upside down for the longest were still standing. It was weird, being back here.

Mike carefully sat down on one of the swings, his legs awkwardly bent as he tried to fit into the seat that was way too small for him now. He wrapped his arms loosely around Rory, securing her as he started to push off the ground, letting the swing rock them both back and forth. The motion was slow, rhythmic.

“Guess this is your first time on a swing, huh?” he murmured, rubbing his hand softly along her back. She sighed against him in response.

His voice was quiet, more thoughtful than anything, as he continued, “When I was a kid, I used to come here all the time. Me, Will, Dustin, Lucas. We’d spend hours just messing around, making up stupid games.” He glanced down at her tiny face, her eyes still heavy with sleep. “Maybe when you’re a little older, I’ll bring you back here to play.”

She let out a small noise, something between a hum and a sigh, and Mike smiled. He doubted she understood any of it, but he still liked talking to her like she did. She was the only person in his life who just… listened. No judgment, no questioning, just there.

For the next hour, he sat there, letting the world exist quietly around them. A few cars drove by in the distance, but otherwise, it was just them and the occasional rustle of leaves.

Eventually, he checked his watch and his stomach dropped. 8:30.

Shit.

He was only supposed to be out for a little bit. He hadn’t even planned on stopping here, and now he’d lost track of time. He still had to stop by the store to grab some fruit for Rory, and knowing Hawkins, there was a solid chance half the town was already out shopping for their last-minute Thanksgiving groceries.

Mike let out a breath, running a hand through his hair before pulling his hood back up. Maybe he could get in and out fast, avoid running into anyone. He shifted Rory slightly to adjust the baby carrier, making sure she was still tucked in securely before standing up from the swing.

“Alright,” he muttered. “Let’s go before we run into someone we don’t wanna see.”

With that, he turned and started toward the store, hoping that for once, luck would actually be on his side.

Mike walked into the grocery store, keeping his head down, his hood pulled over his hair, and his grip on Rory secure as she rested in the baby carrier against his chest. He didn’t plan to be out this long—just a short morning walk to let Rory get some fresh air—but she needed more fruit. 

It was early. Too early for most people to be here. But Thanksgiving was today and people loved leaving things til the last minute. 

Now, he had to be fast. Get in, get out.

He headed straight to the produce section, grabbed a bunch of bananas, a small container of pre-cut watermelon, and started for the registers. 

Then, right as he rounded the corner, he heard it.

“Mike?”

His heart stopped.

No. No, no, no.

He didn’t even look. He knew the voice. Knew it like the back of his damn hand.

Dustin.

And if Dustin was here…

He heard the sharp intake of breath. The telltale shuffle of feet.

“Holy shit,” Max whispered.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

Mike turned on his heel and booked it.

“Hey—HEY! MIKE!” Dustin’s voice shot through the store like an alarm.

Mike didn’t care. He walked faster, practically speed-walking toward the exit.

“Are you serious right now?” Max called, somewhere behind him.

“Dude, stop!” Lucas yelled.

Not a chance in hell.

Mike shoved through the glass doors, stepping outside into the crisp morning air, and kept moving. He heard them behind him, heard the shuffle of rushed footsteps, but he was already halfway down the sidewalk, Rory’s weight bouncing against his chest as he kept his strides steady.

“MIKE, WHAT THE HELL?!” Dustin’s voice carried down the block.

Mike ignored it.

“WE CAN SEE YOU, IDIOT!” Max added.

Keep walking. Keep walking. Maybe if he pretended they didn’t exist, they’d disappear.

Mike veered left, cutting through an alleyway that led to another street. Rory shifted slightly in the carrier, her tiny hands gripping at his hoodie, and Mike instinctively slowed down, adjusting his hold on her.

Okay. Maybe that was enough distance.

He exhaled sharply and kept walking at a normal pace, eyes darting around for any sign of them following. Nothing yet. Good.

But it didn’t matter.

Because he knew them.

They were definitely going to find him later.

And when they did, he was so unbelievably screwed.

Chapter Text

Mike was so screwed.

Why didn’t he just stay inside the Byers’ house? If he had just stayed put, none of this would have happened. But noooo, he just had to get some fresh air, just had to take a nice, peaceful walk before the chaos of Thanksgiving. And of course, in this tiny town where he knew half the population, the absolute worst-case scenario had to happen.

He ran into Max, Lucas and Dustin 

He could still hear it. Max’s stunned “Mike?” ringing in his ears, Lucas’s confused stare as his eyes flickered from Mike to Rory and back again, the slow, dawning horror on Max’s face as she put two and two together.

And then?

Mike ran.

Didn’t think. Didn’t explain. Just booked it out of the store, his legs carrying him as fast as they could while Rory bounced against his chest in the baby carrier. He had no idea if they tried to chase after him. He wasn’t looking back.

Now, as he stepped into the Byers’ house, heart pounding, lungs burning, hoodie slightly disheveled, he realized he had really messed up. Rory let out a tiny, annoyed squawk at all the movement, and he instinctively placed a hand on her back, bouncing her slightly.

He needed to calm down.

Deep breaths.

He closed the door behind him, exhaling hard, trying to shake off the nerves, but it was useless.

He was so screwed.

The sound of movement in the kitchen made him turn his head. Will was already awake, standing at the counter with a cup of coffee. He was still in pajama pants and an old sweatshirt, his hair slightly messy from sleep, but he looked annoyingly awake.

“Hey, where’d you go?” Will asked, raising an eyebrow as Mike stepped inside.

Mike swallowed, still out of breath. “Oh, I, uh… I took Rory to the park. And the grocery store.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “Then why do you look like you just ran a mile?”

Mike groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Because I kind of did.”

Will frowned. “Did you… run into someone?”

Mike let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah. I, uh… I ran into the party.”

Will blinked. “Wait—you saw them?”

“Saw them?” Mike snorted. “Dude, they saw me. And then I ran. Out of the store. Before they could say anything.”

Will just stared at him. “Are you serious?”

Mike threw up his hands. “Yes, I’m serious! I panicked, okay?”

Will gave him a look like he was the dumbest person alive. “Mike. Why the hell did you run away?”

Mike groaned again, rolling his eyes as he shifted his weight, adjusting Rory, who was starting to fuss a little. “Uh, I don’t know, Will. Maybe because I haven’t spoken to them since I left Hawkins? Maybe because there was a whole baby on my chest that they had no clue existed?!”

Will blinked. “Oh yeah you’re screwed.”

“Obviously!” Mike gestured wildly. “Why do you think I ran? I haven’t talked to them since I left, Will! I—I never told them about Rory. Never even hinted at it. And now, out of nowhere, I show up in a grocery store at eight in the morning with a baby strapped to me?!”

Will winced. “Yeah, okay. That’s… that’s pretty bad.”

“Yeah. No shit,” Mike muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “They probably think I stole her or something.”

Will snorted. “Well, you did look pretty sketchy just running out of there.”

Mike groaned, slumping down into one of the kitchen chairs, dropping his head onto the table with a thud.

Just then, Rory let out another squirmy little whine, making a small, unhappy noise.

Mike stiffened. “Oh, shit.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Mike sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I, uh… I didn’t actually buy anything at the store. I kind of left before I could pay.”

Will gave him an unimpressed look. “So you ran into your friends, made the most dramatic exit possible, and also didn’t get what you went there for?”

“Yes, Will, I’m aware,” Mike muttered, exasperated. “Do you have any fruit..?”

Will rolled his eyes but turned toward the counter. “Yeah, we have some.” He reached for the fruit bowl and grabbed a banana. “Lucky for you, I actually think ahead.”

Mike started to get up. “I can do it—”

“Obviously you can do it,” Will said, already peeling the banana. “But so can I.” He shot Mike a pointed look. “What, am I not allowed to feed my favorite little person?”

Mike snorted. “She’s the only little person you know.”

Will smirked. “And? She’s still my favorite.”

Mike sighed, but there was a small, tired smile on his face as he watched Will slice the banana into tiny pieces, setting them on a plate. He handed one to Rory, who immediately grabbed it in her tiny fingers and started eating, content again.

For a moment, the panic faded. The world slowed down. It was just Will, Rory, and Mike—just them, in this quiet little kitchen, sharing a normal moment.

Mike exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. “Thanks, Will.” His voice was quieter this time, more sincere.

Will just smiled, offering another piece of banana to Rory. “You don’t have to thank me, Mike. We’re in this together.”

Mike nodded, his chest a little lighter.

That, unfortunately… didn’t last very long.

A few minutes later, loud banging on the front door nearly made Mike jump out of his skin. Rory flinched in his arms, letting out a startled little noise.

Then, clear as day, came Dustin’s voice, muffled but unmistakably pissed

“Mike, get your ass out here!”

Mike sighed. Well. Shit.

So much for having time to prepare.

Will gave him a look, eyebrows raised. “Guess they found you.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Mike muttered, shifting Rory on his hip. He glanced down at her—her wide, curious eyes blinking up at him, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie.

He sighed again. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

Will smirked. “Good luck.”

Mike shot him a glare before walking toward the door. He barely had a chance to brace himself before he swung it open.

Immediately, the party—Dustin, Max, and Lucas exploded with noise.

“Are you serious right now?!”

“What the hell, man?!”

“When the hell did you have a baby?!”

“Why didn’t you call us?!”

Mike let out a long, exhausted breath and dramatically motioned his arm toward the room, as if to say: Come the hell in, why don’t you?

They stormed inside, still talking over each other, flinging accusations, demanding explanations.

Rory started to squirm in his arms, her tiny body tensing up. Mike felt it before he saw it—the way her fingers curled, the way her breath hitched. He looked down just in time to see her little lip tremble.

Shit.

She turned her head, her eyes darting frantically around the room. Then, she spotted Will standing a few feet away and immediately reached out her arms toward him, her voice wobbly and distressed as she whimpered, “Da!”

Mike froze.

But there wasn’t time to process that. Rory was starting to panic, her tiny body twisting in his hold, soft little “da, da, da’s” spilling out of her mouth.

Will was already stepping forward, his face calm as he reached out. Mike quickly passed Rory over, watching as she immediately burrowed into Will’s chest, her tiny fists gripping his sweatshirt.

Will gently rocked her back and forth, rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles. “Shh,” he murmured, voice soft. “You’re okay, Rory. It’s okay.”

The tension in the room shifted.

It was quieter now. And unfortunately, that meant everyone heard what Rory had just said.

A beat of silence.

Then—

“Wait a minute,” Dustin blurted, eyes practically bulging out of his skull. “She’s yours?!”

Will’s eyes got huge. “No! She’s Mike’s!!”

Dustin pointed at Rory, then at Will, then back at Rory. “Then why did she call you Dad?!”

Mike visibly flinched.

Max groaned, rubbing her temples. “That’s what you’re focused on right now, Dustin? Really?”

Dustin ignored her. “Will, are you secretly a father?! Is there something you wanna tell us?!”

Will made a face. “Oh my God, Dustin, no—”

Max cut in, jabbing a finger toward Mike. “You need to explain. Now.”

Mike sighed. He really didn’t want to do this. But judging by the way they were all glaring at him, he didn’t exactly have a choice.

So.

Here goes nothing.

They all started talking at once. Again. 

A barrage of voices, overlapping, growing louder by the second.

“Dude, what the hell—”

“How long have you been back?”

“Why didn’t you—”

“Who even—”

Mike groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, shut up—let me explain.”

The room fell silent—but barely. Max crossed her arms, glaring at him expectantly. Lucas was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, like he was bracing for something. And Dustin was staring at him with a baffled expression, like he was waiting for Mike to say he was joking.

Will, still holding Rory, shifted on his feet and gave Mike a small, knowing look—one that very clearly said well, go on.

Mike let out a slow breath and shifted his weight. “She’s mine,” he finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice felt weird—too loud, too quiet at the same time. “Her name’s Aurora. Rory for short. She’s… six months old.”

A beat.

The weight and confirmation of his words seemed to sink in all at once.

Max’s eyes went huge.

Lucas blinked, then blinked again.

Dustin gawked at him. “WHAT?!”

Mike winced. “Jesus, Dustin—”

“What do you mean she’s yours?!” Dustin practically squawked, arms flailing wildly. “Like—like, yours-yours?!”

Mike rolled his eyes. “No, Dustin, I meant I stole her from someone else and decided to keep her. Yes, she’s mine-mine! What the hell kind of question—”

“You have a kid?” Max cut in, sounding deeply confused. “You. Mike Wheeler. Have a kid.”

“Uh, yeah, Max, that’s what I just said—”

“What the hell?” Max shook her head. “Like. What the actual hell?”

Lucas, still looking stunned, finally spoke. “Who’s the mom?”

Mike sighed deeply. “She’s not…” He hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “She’s not around.”

Lucas’ eyes bulged. “Wait. She died?!”

“No!” Mike quickly said. “She just—” He rubbed at his temple. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know where she is, and I don’t wanna know. It’s just…” He swallowed. “It’s just me and Rory.”

His eyes flickered toward Will, who was still gently rocking Rory. “And Will helps me out a ton. We live nearby.”

Max frowned, deep in thought. Then she huffed. “Damn. That’s fucked up.”

Mike snorted. “Yeah…” He exhaled. “But it’s okay. We’re fine on our own.”

Dustin gawked at him. “Dude, why didn’t you tell us?” he asked, voice tinged with hurt. “We could’ve helped! You seriously thought you had to do this alone?”

Mike sighed and looked down. “I just… I don’t know. I didn’t wanna disappoint you guys.”

Dustin stared at him. “Mike.” He gestured wildly. “You gave us the first baby in the party. This is great! You thought we’d be mad or something?”

Mike let out a small, almost disbelieving laugh. “Kinda?”

Max snorted. “You’re more of an idiot than I thought.”

Mike huffed. “Thanks, Max. Really.”

For a second, there was a pause. Then, out of nowhere, Lucas suddenly got up from his seat on the couch and hugged him.

Mike froze.

For a second, he didn’t move, caught completely off guard. Then, slowly, he relaxed into it, his arms coming up to return the hug.

A second later, Dustin piled on, wrapping his arms around both of them with an exaggerated “group hug!!”

Max, of course, didn’t fully join in, but she did give Mike a few pats on the back—before flicking him in the back of the head.

Mike winced. “Ow—what the hell was that for?”

“For not telling us about her,” Max said simply.

Mike huffed a laugh.

Chapter Text

They were all crowded into the living room now, the chaos from earlier having simmered down into something calmer, cozier—surreal, still, but quieter. Rory was perched happily on Max’s lap, babbling to herself as she slapped her tiny palms against Max’s hands. Max looked mildly amused, like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with a baby, but she was doing her best, holding Rory carefully and muttering things like “you’re very squishy, huh?” under her breath.

Lucas, meanwhile, was sitting next to her and just…staring. Not in a creepy way, but like Rory was a rare alien life form he’d never seen up close before. His head tilted a little to the side every time she moved, and he blinked, wide-eyed, whenever she made a new sound.

Dustin was hovering, pacing in a tight circle around them, occasionally crouching down to look at Rory up close, only to immediately get shooed away by Max.

“C’mon,” Dustin groaned. “You’ve had her for like ten minutes—when’s it my turn?”

Max didn’t even look up. “She likes me more.”

“You bribed her with your hair.”

“She grabbed it, I didn’t offer.”

“Still counts,” Dustin muttered, finally collapsing onto the floor nearby with a loud sigh of defeat. After a few beats of dramatic silence, he perked up again and asked, “Okay, but like—can she do any tricks yet?”

Mike, who had been sitting on the arm of the couch with a juice box in hand , raised an eyebrow. “She’s not a dog, Dustin.”

Dustin waved that off. “No, I mean like… can she roll over? Sit up? Crawl? Babble words? Blink in Morse code?”

“She’s not a spy, either.”

Rory let out a squeaky giggle and slapped Max’s arm. Max blinked down at her. “That counts as a trick,” she said.

Dustin nodded solemnly, then leaned toward Mike again. “When’s her birthday?”

Mike rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. “May fourth.”

Dustin froze mid-sip of his own soda, eyes going wide as his brain began to short-circuit. His mouth opened slightly.

And then—he grinned.

Mike narrowed his eyes. “What?”

Dustin didn’t answer. His grin grew.

Mike sat forward. “What??”

Still nothing.

“Dustin—” Mike’s tone was more threatening now. “Say it.”

“Dude!!” Dustin finally exploded, practically vibrating with joy. “Her birthday is May the Fourth!”

Mike blinked. “Yeah. And?”

Dustin stared at him like he’d been personally betrayed. “And?! Mike!! May the Fourth be with you???”

There was a beat of silence.

And then—realization dawned. On Mike. On Lucas. On Will, from where he was watching quietly with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Oh god,” Mike muttered.

“Oh my God,” Will echoed, a slow, amazed grin spreading across his face.

Lucas just looked stunned. “That’s… wow.”

“How did you go seven months without realizing that?!” Dustin cried, throwing his arms up in disbelief.

Mike groaned and covered his face with both hands. “I don’t know, Dustin! Maybe because I’ve been too busy, I don’t know, raising her?!”

Dustin opened his mouth, closed it, then shrugged. “Fair.”

Rory babbled again, then sneezed loudly all over Max’s shirt.

Max sighed. “Great. She comes with sound and effects.”

Once Dustin, Max, and Lucas left—after what felt like hours of chaos and questions and way too many jokes, things finally quieted down. It wasn’t long before El, Joyce, and Hopper pulled out the ingredients for the rest of the night. The plan had been to have an actual dinner together, but so far, they’d only managed snacks and baby giggles.

As soon as El spotted Rory, she made a beeline straight for her, scooping her out of Mike’s arms with practiced ease. “I need more baby time,” El declared firmly, as though it were an official order. “You and Will go help with the turkey.”

Mike protested weakly, half-reaching for Rory. “Wait—why do we have to—”

But Rory didn’t seem to care about the transfer of power; she settled happily into El’s arms without so much as a peep, already tugging at her earrings and babbling at her like they were in deep conversation.

Defeated, Mike and Will exchanged looks and dragged themselves to the kitchen.

What followed could only be described as a complete disaster. Mike glared at the uncooked turkey in the sink like it had personally offended him, while Will kept nervously turning the water on and off, unsure if they were doing it right. They spent five minutes debating whether they were supposed to take something out of the cavity before Joyce finally stepped in, clapped her hands together, and gently herded them away from the poultry.

“Okay,” Joyce said, trying not to laugh, “you two are officially on mac and cheese duty. Hopper’s got the turkey.”

“Thank God,” Will mumbled under his breath as they eagerly swapped out raw turkey for boiling noodles.

Mac and cheese was way more their speed. There were only so many ways to mess it up, and between the two of them, they managed to get the pasta cooked and the cheese sauce almost perfectly smooth. They even high-fived about it, feeling somewhat accomplished.

Hours passed in a blur of clanging pots, chatter, and the smell of food filling the house. Eventually, everything was prepped, and now they just had to wait for the turkey to finish roasting.

Finally, they all collapsed in the living room, thoroughly exhausted but satisfied. They threw on a random movie to pass the time, something light and cheesy. Rory, who had somehow migrated back to Mike, was sitting in his lap, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

But her attention soon drifted. Spotting Will, who was sitting right next to Mike on the couch, Rory perked up and began her little crawl toward him, clambering over Mike’s thigh with determination. She settled onto Will’s lap like it was the most natural thing in the world, patting at his sweater curiously.

Mike watched, amused, until she decided to crawl back over to him again. And then back to Will. And then back to Mike. It became an endless loop, as if she were testing them both, seeing who she liked better—or maybe just enjoying the game.

Finally, Mike, curious, gently kept her in his lap, holding her securely to see what she’d do. Rory immediately started to whine, her tiny hands reaching out toward Will as she said, “Da,” a bit more insistently now.

Mike raised a brow and passed her over. Rory brightened instantly, patting Will’s face with her palms and proudly repeating, “Da!”

Will laughed softly, his cheeks pink as he glanced at Mike, but before he could say anything, Rory reached toward Mike again. “Da,” she said, just as sweetly.

Will, grinning now, passed her back.

“Da,” Rory chirped at Mike .

And so it went—back and forth and back and forth—until both Mike and Will were laughing quietly, and Joyce even nudged Hopper with an amused look, while El watched like she was witnessing the most fascinating thing in the universe.

Finally, Mike had an idea. He shifted closer to Will, so close that their thighs were pressed together, and they made a little seat between them. Gently, they settled Rory right in the middle, her little legs dangling over both of theirs.

Rory looked from Mike to Will, studying them as if she were deep in thought. For a long moment, it seemed like she was carefully weighing her options. But then, with a soft, content little sigh, she relaxed against both of them at once, her tiny body settling into their shared space, her head lolling back just a little.

“Guess she made her choice,” Will said softly, his voice full of warmth.

Mike smiled, his eyes soft as he watched Rory nestle between them like she belonged nowhere else in the world.

“Yeah,” Mike agreed quietly. “Both of us.”

Once the turkey was done, they all sat down to eat. Mike sat Rory on his lap instead of her little highchair, wanting to let her try all the different foods right from his plate. It was her first time tasting most of them, and she was a pretty good sport about it — at first. She chewed through the mashed potatoes, made a little happy noise at the turkey, and seemed to really like the stuffing. But the second Mike scooped up some green beans and popped them into her mouth, her whole face scrunched up like he had just fed her literal poison.

“Okay,” Mike said, pulling the spoon away fast, “so she’s exactly like her dad then.”

Everyone burst out laughing at the way Rory dramatically stuck her tongue out, pushed the beans right back out of her mouth, and glared at Mike like it was a personal betrayal.

“Can’t even fake it, huh?” Hopper chuckled, shaking his head.

Mike wiped Rory’s chin with the little bib and kissed the top of her head, snorting softly. “Alright, no more green beans. Message received.”

Once dinner was over and they were all full and lazy, Joyce and El immediately put Mike, Will, and Hopper on dish duty, claiming that they’d earned some well-deserved baby time. Joyce whisked Rory right out of Mike’s arms before he could even protest, and Mike and Will were marched into the kitchen like two guilty kids caught sneaking snacks.

Will packed the leftovers neatly into containers, moving back and forth from the fridge while Mike washed the mountain of dishes, hands deep in suds, and Hopper stood to the side drying and stacking everything back into the cupboards.

“You know,” Hopper said, drying off a pan, “I think we’ve got a pretty good system here.”

“Yeah,” Mike said, flicking some water off his fingers, “it’s called slave labor.”

Will snorted, hiding his laugh behind the fridge door, and Hopper just rolled his eyes.

They finally finished up, the kitchen looking better than it had all day, and headed back into the living room where the others were already pulling out board games. El had Rory sitting in her lap, playing with one of the game pieces like it was the best toy she’d ever seen.

They played a few rounds — mostly easy ones so they could still keep an eye on Rory crawling between them. She kept grabbing at cards and dice, making little babbling sounds that sounded suspiciously like she was giving advice. At one point, she grabbed Mike’s card, handed it to Will, and then clapped her hands like she’d done something brilliant.

By the time they all went off to get ready for bed, Mike scooped up Rory, who had started rubbing her eyes, and glanced at Will with a tired but content smile.

“You think she’s gonna sleep good after all this?” Mike asked quietly as they headed to the Wills room.

Will smiled softly and brushed some of Rory’s dark curls off her forehead. “I think she’s gonna sleep like a rock.”

Mike changed Rory’s diaper first, then got her into her little pajamas, the soft cotton ones with tiny stars on them. She let out a tired whimper but didn’t really fight him, her eyes fluttering the whole time like she could fall asleep any second.

Will was changing too, off to the side, pulling his shirt over his head and stepping out of his jeans. Mike — well, Mike was definitely not sneaking glances at Will’s arms, or his thighs, or the way his back flexed when he reached for his sweatpants. Nope. He cleared his throat quickly, blinking hard, and looked down at Rory as if she had done something extremely interesting.

“Uh— hey,” Mike croaked, hoping his voice didn’t crack like it felt it would. “Can you hold her for a sec while I go brush my teeth?”

Will smiled, not noticing anything weird at all. “Of course.”

Mike grabbed his clothes to change into after, because even though Will was clearly comfortable getting changed in front of his friends, Mike still felt a little awkward about it. Maybe insecure. Sue him. He didn’t exactly love changing with an audience.

When he came back a few minutes later, the room had gone quiet except for the soft sound of Rory’s breathing. She was curled up in the middle of the bed, little hands tucked by her face, and Will — Will was on his side, his head propped up on his arm like he’d been watching her but had fallen asleep in the process. His hand still rested gently on Rory’s legs, like he hadn’t wanted to lose contact with her, even in sleep.

Mike’s heart squeezed a little too tight in his chest.

He set his clothes aside and climbed onto the bed, careful not to wake them, just lying there to look at them for a minute. He’d move Rory to her bassinet soon. Any second now. He just wanted to take in the moment.

But a few minutes turned into ten, then twenty, then an hour, and Mike felt his own eyes getting heavy.

Finally, when he knew he really needed to move her, he reached out and gently scooped Rory into his arms — but the second her little legs shifted, Will’s eyes snapped open, a little dazed but instantly alert and gripping on her little leg.

“What’s going on?” Will mumbled, voice hoarse from sleep.

Mike kept his voice low. “Just moving her to the bassinet.”

Will gave a soft, sleepy nod and let his hand fall away as Mike settled Rory into the bassinet by the bed. She barely stirred, just made a tiny noise and curled tighter into herself.

Mike slid back into bed, lying down beside Will, the room quiet except for their breathing. Will looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable in the dim light, and then he whispered:

“…What does she mean?”

Mike’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“When she calls me ‘da’… what does she mean?”

Mike’s heart stumbled in his chest. He swallowed, his throat dry.

“Oh,” Mike said softly. “I… I’m not sure.”

Will’s eyes drifted away, just for a second, and he let out a quiet, almost fragile, “Oh.”

Mike hesitated, then whispered, “Yeah…”

A pause settled between them, thick but not uncomfortable, just heavy with something unsaid.

“Will?” Mike finally said, his voice just above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

Mike’s gaze softened. “Thank you.”

Will’s brow furrowed slightly. “For what?”

“For loving her,” Mike said, voice low and earnest. “For taking care of her… of us.”

Will’s expression melted into something so warm it made Mike’s chest ache. “I’ll always take care of you,” Will said simply, like it was the easiest promise in the world. “You don’t need to thank me.”

Mike smiled, soft and small. “I know,” he said. “Just… thank you.”

Will’s eyes softened further. “Of course.”

Without really thinking, Mike shifted closer, reaching out to pull Will into a gentle hug while they lay there. “Seriously,” Mike murmured, holding him tight for a moment.

When he pulled away, his hand lingered at Will’s waist, fingers resting lightly there like he couldn’t quite let go.

And if they fell asleep like that, tangled together, warm and close in the quiet room.. well, that was nobody’s business but theirs.

Chapter Text

When Mike woke up, the first thing he noticed was that he was cold. The second thing he noticed was that he was alone.

His eyes blinked open groggily, the faint morning light filtering in through the curtains. Will’s side of the bed was empty — the sheets slightly wrinkled, still warm,  and Rory’s bassinet was… empty too.

Shit.

Mike bolted upright. His heart jumped to his throat as he stared at the vacant space where Rory should’ve been. For a moment, panic surged through him, irrational and hot. Had she fallen out? Had someone taken her? Had she—

He shoved off the blankets and scrambled out of bed, flinging the door open without thinking, his footfall heavy and fast as he rushed down the hall.

But then he saw them.

Will was sitting at the kitchen table, hair messy and sticking up in places, still in his sleep shirt. Rory was perched on his lap in her pajamas, oatmeal smudged on her chin. Will had a tiny baby spoon in one hand, holding it up with an exaggerated smile and coaxing her to open her mouth, which she did, eagerly, making little happy noises between bites.

They looked… perfect. Calm. Content. Like this was something they did every morning. Like this wasn’t borrowed time.

Mike stopped in the doorway, breath catching in his chest.

That ache came out of nowhere. That deep, low, quiet ache that had been lingering in his bones more and more lately — the kind of longing that didn’t have words. He wanted this. He wanted this forever. Waking up, seeing Rory happy and safe. Seeing Will with her like that, patient and kind and laughing softly to himself when she tried to grab the spoon.

But he knew it wouldn’t last. Not forever. One day Will would start his own family. He’d fall in love, really in love, and have a kid of his own to feed oatmeal to in the mornings. And this… this version of their little patchwork family, Mike and Will and Rory, would just be a sweet memory. Something warm and soft and painful to remember.

Mike rubbed at his face, trying to shake the feeling away, and padded over to the table.

“Morning,” he mumbled, voice low and still scratchy with sleep.

Will looked up, eyes lighting up just slightly. “Morning.”

Mike leaned in to kiss Rory’s head, breathing in her baby shampoo and pressing his lips just above her soft curls. But when he lifted his head, Will hadn’t leaned back — and suddenly they were only inches apart.

Mike froze.

So did Will.

His breath caught. For a second, everything else disappeared. Will’s face was right there — sleepy and soft and beautiful, and his lips were just slightly parted, eyes locked on Mike’s like he didn’t know what to do either. Neither of them moved. The moment hung in the air, suspended.

And then Rory smacked the spoon out of Will’s hand, and it clattered loudly against the bowl, flinging a bit of oatmeal onto the table.

The spell broke instantly.

Mike jerked back a little, clearing his throat. Will blinked like he was coming out of a trance and reached down to pick up the spoon.

“How long have you guys been up?” Mike asked, trying to keep his voice casual. Too casual. Definitely-not-just-almost-kissed-you casual.

Will still didn’t look up. “Like an hour,” he said. “She woke up fussy. Hungry, I think. So I figured I’d give you some extra sleep and make her something.”

Mike nodded, even though Will still wasn’t really looking at him. “Thanks.”

Silence settled between them. Not the comfortable kind, not the sleepy morning kind. This one was tight and a little fragile, both aware they’d gone to bed tangled up together, both aware of what Mike had said, what it had felt like, but neither one wanted to say it out loud. Not now. Not yet.

Mike sat down across from him. Will kept feeding Rory like nothing had happened. Rory kicked her feet against his stomach, perfectly happy.

They weren’t going to talk about it.

About how they’d fallen asleep holding each other.

About how it felt good to fall asleep like that.

Mike reached out to wipe a smear of oatmeal off Rory’s cheek with his thumb.

If he could just stay in this moment a little longer, he would. Even if it was temporary. Even if it wasn’t enough.

Mike had to get back to work soon. His shift for Black Friday started that night, and he could already feel the exhaustion clawing at the edges of his bones just thinking about it. That meant today, this slow, gray post-Thanksgiving morning was their last day.

The thought made his stomach twist.

Everyone eventually shuffled out of their rooms. Hopper was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and grumbling about needing coffee before functioning. Joyce greeted Rory with a big, warm grin and lifted her from Will’s lap for some snuggles. El beamed when she saw the baby, taking her from Joyce and peppering her stomach with kisses while Rory giggled, arms flailing happily. Jonathan quietly helped start breakfast, taking over flipping the pancakes while the others got the table ready.

They all sat around and talked for a while, letting the time stretch out slowly — soft conversation, laughter, another round of stories about Rory and what she’d done that weekend. It was nice. Really nice.

But even through the comfort of it all, Mike felt the ache growing stronger.

There was something there. A tension between him and Will that hadn’t been there before. Not a fight. Not distance exactly. Just… something. Like they were both carrying something unsaid between them, holding it tightly in their chests and pretending not to feel the weight.

They didn’t look at each other the same way this morning. They didn’t touch the same. Will hadn’t leaned his head against Mike’s shoulder like he usually would on the couch. Mike hadn’t bumped their knees together at the breakfast table. And every time he caught Will’s eyes, Will looked away too quickly.

It wasn’t like them. And Mike hated it.

When it was time to leave, Mike helped load everything up into the car. His hands moved on autopilot, packing Rory’s overnight bag, folding up her bassinet, strapping her into her car seat. Will helped him quietly, their movements practiced and efficient. Still… their fingers never brushed. They didn’t exchange smiles. It was like they were too aware of each other.

Mike didn’t want to go. Not just because it meant work, or leaving the safety of the cabin, or driving back into the noisy city. He didn’t want to go because something felt unfinished. He felt like they’d been on the edge of something for days, maybe even longer than that, and now he was leaving with it still locked behind his teeth.

So when they pulled out of the driveway, Mike settled into the backseat next to Rory’s car seat and rested his head against the window.

After a few minutes Mike looked down at her little face, peaceful and soft with her hands curled against her chest. A lump rose in his throat. He smoothed her blanket over her chest.

“I’m gonna try to get some sleep,” Mike muttered. “Gotta work tonight. Black Friday.”

Will glanced over at him, his expression unreadable. “Right… right, yeah. That makes sense.”

Mike gave him a tight nod and then leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

But he wasn’t sleeping. Not really. He was just grateful to have an excuse to stay quiet. Grateful to pretend he didn’t feel Will’s eyes flick to him now and then like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t.

He didn’t know how long this silence would last. He just knew he didn’t want to be the one to break it first — not if it meant getting hurt.

When Mike and Rory got dropped off at his apartment, everything felt wrong. The way Will barely met his eyes when he handed over Rory’s carrier. The way his fingers brushed Mike’s for a second — and how fast he pulled away, like touching him even that long was too much. The way the door shut behind him with a soft, final click, quiet and sharp and awful, like the sound of something ending.

Mike stood there for a minute, maybe longer, bags around his feet, Rory babbling softly in her seat, the silence around them thick and suffocating. His heart was hammering so loud he could hear it in his ears. He thought, just for a second, about opening the door again and chasing after Will. Saying something. Begging without words for things to go back to normal, whatever normal even was anymore. But he didn’t. He bent down slowly, unstrapped Rory with hands that were colder than they should have been, and forced a smile onto his face as he lifted her into his arms.

“Okay, kiddo,” he said, and his voice cracked just a little. He cleared his throat, pretending it hadn’t, and carried her inside.

He busied himself. Fed her a snack. Changed her diaper. Checked and rechecked the babysitter instructions like he hadn’t written them down perfectly already. He didn’t want to leave her with a babysitter but he had to work tonight, he’d traded it for thanksgiving off. He pulled on his ugly department store uniform like it was armor, like maybe it could keep him from feeling anything at all. He kissed Rory’s head lingering longer than usual, breathing in the warm, sweet scent of her and whispered, “Be good, okay?” before heading out into the dark, cold night.

Work was chaos, like always on Black Friday. The store opened at midnight and immediately the aisles flooded with people desperate to grab half-price TVs and $10 blenders. There were shouting matches over bicycles. Shoving matches over Tupperware. An old woman body checked a teenager over a microwave. It was loud and hot and insane, normally, the kind of energy that would snap Mike out of any bad mood, just because it was so ridiculous.

But tonight he felt nothing. He moved through it all like a ghost, ringing up item after item, not even hearing what they were. Giving change he barely felt in his fingers. He barely registered the fights, the yells, the panicked calls for backup. It all washed over him, numbing, meaningless.

Usually the madness would make him feel something, anger, exhaustion, even bitter amusement, but tonight the only thing he felt was the hollow ache in his stomach, deep and wide and cold.

He picked up Rory just after sunrise, dead on his feet. The babysitter smiled brightly and said she’d been an angel, smiled and laughed and even fell asleep right on time. Of course she had. Rory was good. Rory was perfect. Rory was everything Mike wasn’t.

He drove home half-awake, headlights and rain blurring together. When they got home, he gave Rory a bath, warm water, tiny splashes, baby giggles that normally would’ve melted him and it almost did break him. How could she still be so happy? How could she love him so easily, trust him so fully?

He dressed her in soft pajamas and tucked her carefully into her bassinet, lingering by her side longer than he needed to. Watching her tiny chest rise and fall. Resting his hand on her little belly until her breathing evened out, slow and sweet and safe.

And then he was alone.

Alone with his thoughts.

He dragged himself into bed, muscles aching from work, from standing all night, from carrying weight heavier than boxes. He collapsed onto his mattress, turned onto his side, and stared at the wall. At nothing.

The tears came slowly, at first. A tightness in his throat. A burning in his eyes. And then soft, silent tears sliding down his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands, breathing shakily, hating himself for it.

You scared him.

The thought hit him so hard it stole the air from his lungs.

He saw it so clearly now. The way Will had looked at him last night, after they’d fallen asleep tangled together, Mike’s hand on Will’s waist like it belonged there.

He had crossed a line.

He blurred a boundary that Will had never set in words because he was too kind to say no, too kind to pull away, but Mike should’ve known. Should’ve known better. Should’ve known not to take more than what he was given.

He squeezed his eyes shut harder, wishing he could shut out his own mind. He hadn’t meant to do it. He hadn’t meant to scare Will. He just… wanted.

God, he wanted so badly it hurt. He wanted Will to stay. To be his. To be theirs. To wake up every morning to the three of them, Rory’s sleepy smiles, Will’s messy hair and soft laughter, their little weird broken family.

He wanted a future he was never meant to have.

And now he’d ruined everything.

The sobs started up again, hard and ugly, shaking his whole body. He pressed his hand against his mouth to muffle the sounds, terrified of waking Rory, ashamed of himself for being so weak.

Will had been good to him. Will didn’t owe him anything. He didn’t owe Mike his time, his love, his life. He was just being kind, helping with groceries, helping with Rory, helping Mike stand on his own two feet again.

And Mike had taken and taken and taken until he crossed a line.

Until Will couldn’t even look him in the eye anymore.

Until Will dropped the spoon when Mike got too close, like Mike was something dangerous.

Of course he was pulling away now. Of course he was acting weird, distant. Mike had made it weird. He’d wanted too much. Dreamed too big.

He curled tighter into himself under the blanket, wishing he could disappear. He was stupid to ever hope. Stupid to ever think Will could be his, that they could be a real family.

Will would find someone someday, someone normal, someone better, someone who didn’t come with baggage and a kid and a thousand cracks in his heart. He’d have his own family, his own kids, a real life.

And Mike would be a memory, a mistake, a phase he didn’t like to think about.

He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut until bright, painful stars burst behind his lids. He wished he could fall asleep. He wished he could stop hurting.

But even as exhaustion dragged at him, even as he finally started to slip under, the ache stayed.

A hollow, gnawing ache of losing something he never really had.

Chapter Text

The days that followed bled together in a muted haze. Mike moved like a ghost through his apartment, drifting from one task to the next with mechanical precision. Wake up, feed Rory, change her diaper, rock her back to sleep. Go to work, stand behind a register or stack shelves for hours while people shouted, shoved, argued. Come home, shower, feed Rory again, lie awake staring at the ceiling until he couldn’t anymore. Repeat.

He didn’t answer phone calls. Dustin tried a few times, Max too. Even El left a message or two. But Mike just stared at the blinking light on his answering machine and let it keep blinking. He couldn’t face them, couldn’t stomach the idea of pretending everything was fine or fielding questions about why Will was being so distant.

Because the truth was, Mike didn’t know.

He’d gone too far. That’s what it had to be. Maybe Will had looked at the way Mike touched him, hugged him, lingered too long. Maybe he’d seen it in Mike’s eyes—that aching, pathetic hope that had bloomed like a bruise in his chest every time Rory called him da. Mike hadn’t said anything, hadn’t dared to, but maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe Will had realized on his own, and the tension that had crackled through the car ride home was his quiet way of setting boundaries. Of saying, I love her, but not like that. I love you, but not like that.

Mike was such an idiot. He should’ve known better. He should’ve been grateful for what he had, for everything Will had done. Helping with Rory, cooking dinner, even holding him while they lay there in bed like something out of a dream. And Mike had gone and ruined it by wanting more.

Now everything felt gray. The city outside was already pale and cold from winter creeping in, but it was colder inside him. His appetite disappeared. He only ate when Rory was watching him, because it made her laugh to see him take bites of her mashed bananas like he was being brave. He rarely slept more than a couple hours. He didn’t bother changing out of his work clothes unless they smelled.

He moved like a deadman walking, caught in some endless loop of survival. At work, he stopped joking with coworkers. Customers yelling at him barely even registered. His manager told him he looked like hell and offered him a night off, but Mike just said no, he needed the hours. He always needed the hours.

The only thing tethering him to the world was Rory. Her laugh, her tiny hands, her babbling nonsense. The way she curled into his chest when she was sleepy or squealed when he danced with her to music he barely heard. She didn’t care that he was barely holding it together. She loved him anyway, in that pure, terrifying, beautiful way only a baby could.

But even that didn’t feel like enough some nights.

Some nights he’d stand in the bathroom staring at himself in the mirror. His skin was pale, cheeks hollowed out from stress and exhaustion, eyes ringed with purple shadows. He looked older than nineteen. He looked like someone’s dad, and not in a sitcom way. In a bleak, bruised, overworked kind of way.

He didn’t cry often. Not after that first night. But every once in a while, when Rory was asleep and the apartment was too quiet, he’d sit on the floor beside her crib and let it hit him. Not loud sobs, just a silent unraveling. Tears slipping down his face while he pressed a fist against his mouth and thought about what he’d lost. Or maybe what he never had.

He should’ve been used to disappointment by now.

He’d dropped out of school, lost his friends for a year, raised a baby on his own, and still, it was this. This quiet distance from Will, that managed to hurt the most.

Will hadn’t meant to disappear. He told himself he was just giving Mike space, a little room to breathe after the mess of that night, the lingering touches, the way they’d fallen asleep tangled together like something more than what they were. He thought it would help, thought maybe putting a little distance between them would remind his heart of its place. Just friends. Just helping. That was it. Nothing more.

But a few days turned into four, then five. And that distance began to feel like neglect. Something about the silence was wrong. It was too quiet. Will had tried to justify it—maybe Mike was just busy with work, maybe Rory had been fussy. But the excuses were thinning. He knew Mike. Mike didn’t do well alone, even if he pretended otherwise. And as much as he hated to admit it, Mike could be self-destructive when left to his own thoughts.

So Will grabbed his keys and made a stop by the corner fruit lady, grabbing a little container of mixed fruit for Rory, grapes, watermelon, mango, pineapple, all her favorites, and picked up a couple of hot sandwiches and fries from a local joint. Something easy. Something comforting. He figured if Mike was just tired or stressed, they could eat and talk it out.

But when he got to the apartment building and saw Mike’s car in its usual spot, yet no answer at the door, that sinking feeling bloomed hard in Will’s chest.

He knocked again. Still no response.

A third time, harder now. He leaned his head against the door, trying to listen. There. A faint babbling. Rory.

“Mike?” Will called, knocking again. “It’s me. Open up?”

Nothing.

Will’s stomach twisted. He fumbled with the spare key Mike had given him, just in case of an emergency, and let himself in. The apartment was dim, the curtains drawn. Rory was safe in her baby bouncer in the living room, gumming at a teether and making small squeaky sounds, her little legs kicking. Will exhaled a breath of relief at the sight of her. But where the hell was Mike?

“Mike?” Will called again, louder this time, stepping quickly down the hall and checking the bedroom. Empty. The bed was unmade, sheets twisted like someone had slept fitfully, if at all.

Then he heard the water.

The bathroom.

He walked toward it fast now, not running, but only because his legs were fighting to stay steady. 

He knocked hard on the bathroom door. “Mike?”

Nothing.

“Mike, I’m coming in.”

Still nothing.

He opened the door and was immediately hit with a wall of steam. The room was thick with it, the mirror completely fogged over. A timer on the counter. The water was still running.

“Mike?” Will called again, voice sharp now.

When there was no answer, he pulled the curtain aside—and froze.

Mike was sitting in the tub, fully clothed in just his underwear, knees drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped tight around his legs, head buried in the crook between his knees. The water beat down on him like he didn’t even feel it.

“Shit,” Will whispered, reaching immediately to shut the water off. It sputtered to a stop, and the silence that followed was so loud it made Will’s ears ring.

He grabbed a towel off the hook and crouched down, hesitating only a second before gently wrapping it around Mike’s shoulders. “Mike,” he said, voice quiet but firm. “Hey. Come on. You’re okay. I got you.”

He tried to get Mike to stand, and eventually he did, shaky and slow, the towel clinging to his damp skin. Will guided him carefully out of the tub and into the bedroom, sat him down on the edge of the bed, still dripping wet, still not saying a word.

Will crouched again in front of him. “Mike? Hey, look at me.”

Mike didn’t.

“Please,” Will said. “You’re scaring me.”

Finally, slowly, Mike lifted his head. His eyes were glassy, distant—but they landed on Will.

“…Will?” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

Will nodded, heart in his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. I brought us food.”

Mike blinked, slow and disoriented. “Oh… okay.”

Will kept his voice calm, steady. “Do you know what day it is?”

“…Friday?”

“It’s Monday,” Will said gently.

Mike blinked again, long and slow. He looked so tired. Not just physically tired, something deeper, like his soul had given up trying to carry everything.

Will pressed his palm to Mike’s knee, trying to ground him. “I’m gonna bring Rory in, okay? I’ll be right back.”

He stood and hurried back to the living room, scooping Rory from the bouncer and pressing a kiss to her hair. She let out a happy babble, clearly excited to see Will was back. Will brought her into the bedroom and sat her down gently on the bed beside Mike, who was still staring into space, towel clutched loosely around his shoulders.

“Mike,” Will said softly, “Look at Rory.”

Mike turned his head.

“See her hand?” Will said, taking Rory’s tiny fingers and placing them in Mike’s palm. “Can you count them for me?”

Mike looked down. Slowly, he started: “One… two… three… four… five.”

“Good,” Will said. “Can you tell me what her favorite fruit is?”

“…Watermelon.”

“Yeah. You bought her that big tub last week, remember?”

Mike nodded, barely.

“What color is her onesie?”

“…Yellow. With ducks.”

“Yeah,” Will said, voice breaking slightly. “You remember.”

Mike stared at Rory’s hand in his, and his thumb rubbed over the soft skin like he was just realizing it was real. His breathing started to even out, just slightly, like he was coming back into his body.

Will helped him into a dry shirt and some pajama pants, then walked him to the kitchen, setting the food down at the table.

He fixed a small plate for Rory with her fruit and some soft sandwich pieces, then handed Mike his food. He didn’t say anything, just watched to see if Mike would eat.

Mike barely touched his food.

He moved things around with his fork. Took a few bites here and there, like it was muscle memory more than appetite. Will didn’t push. He just sat next to him, eating slowly and quietly, making sure Rory was fed and not making a mess with her fruit bowl, which she devoured like it was her job.

Afterward, Will wiped Rory’s hands clean and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. Mike was still sitting at the table, his shoulders hunched and fingers loosely curled around his glass of water like he’d forgotten it was there. His eyes were somewhere far away.

Will hesitated, then gently said, “Let’s sit down for a while.”

Mike looked up slowly, tired eyes blinking like he’d just remembered where he was. He nodded.

They moved to the living room. Rory fussed a little when she was lifted, but quickly settled in Will’s arms, her thumb slipping into her mouth. She was warm and soft, already a little drowsy from the food. Will shifted onto the couch, cradling her easily in the crook of his arm.

Mike sat beside him, not too close, but close enough that their knees brushed. He didn’t say anything as Will picked up the remote and turned on the TV, flipping through channels before settling on something gentle and familiar, a Disney movie with soft music and brighter colors, something Rory liked.

The apartment was quiet except for the sounds from the TV and the occasional sleepy babble from Rory. Her tiny fingers curled into Will’s shirt, her cheek resting against his chest.

Mike leaned back on the couch, legs pulled up just slightly, one arm draped along the back of the cushions. He didn’t look at Will or Rory. He just stared ahead at the TV, blank-faced but no longer completely vacant. Not like before.

Will felt the weight of the day settle in his body, the ache in his chest that came from watching someone he loved unravel like that. His arm shifted, just slightly, letting Rory nestle more comfortably against him and that small movement brought his shoulder closer to Mike’s.

Mike didn’t flinch.

He didn’t lean away either.

It was a quiet surrender, but it meant something.

The movie played on. At some point, Rory shifted in her sleep and her leg bumped into Mike’s side. He looked down at her, then finally looked at Will.

The movie played on. At some point, Rory shifted in her sleep and her leg bumped into Mike’s side. He looked down at her, then finally looked at Will.

“I’m okay,” Mike whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Will gave him a small, careful smile. “It’s okay. But… are you sure you’re okay? You scared me there for a little bit.”

Mike’s gaze dropped, flickering to the screen though his eyes weren’t really watching anymore. “Yeah, I just… I don’t know,” he said. “I’m okay, though.”

Will didn’t push. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. He wanted to know what was clawing inside Mike’s head so he could fight it off himself. But he knew better. He’d seen Mike shut down when people asked too many questions. So instead, he gave a soft nod and leaned back into the couch, giving him space.

Rory made a soft, tired noise, and without opening her eyes she started shifting closer to Mike, inch by inch until she was lying fully against him, her head nestled on his chest, her small fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. Mike didn’t even react. He just automatically adjusted to her weight, one arm sliding under her to keep her secure. His other hand came up to rest on her back, steady and warm.

Will’s heart ached.

“She’s sleepy,” Will murmured.

Mike finally smiled—small, tired, but real. “Yeah,” he whispered. “She’s been loving her sleep a little extra lately.”

Will couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his mouth. Watching them like this always did something to him. The softness in Mike’s face. The instinctive way his body cradled her, like her presence anchored him to the earth. It was gentle. Protective. Unspoken love in every breath. It made Will’s chest feel too full.

But then Mike got a strange look on his face. He shifted slightly and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then shut it again. His jaw clenched.

Finally, he exhaled and said, voice quiet but steady, “I can take care of her.”

Will looked at him, brows drawing together in confusion. “Mike…”

“I know that looked bad. How you found me. But I can take care of her,” he said again, firmer this time. His eyes were on Rory’s head, still buried in his chest. “Even if I don’t feel the best. I have… I don’t know. Dad instincts? Even if my mind is gone somewhere else, my body still knows how to keep Rory safe. My subconscious knows how long I’ve left her, if I’ve fed her, if she’s in a place where she’s safe. I just—” He stopped, swallowed. “I don’t want you to think I can’t take care of her. Because I can. Even if I’m not always doing the best myself.”

Will didn’t answer right away. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing, and this moment felt so fragile it could shatter with one misstep. He looked at Mike carefully, like he was trying to see past his words, past the tired circles under his eyes and the guilt pressed into the lines of his face.

“Mike,” Will said, “of course you can take care of her. I know that. I know she’s the safest when she’s with you. I know you’d do anything for her, even if it means you stop taking care of yourself.”

Mike stayed quiet, holding Rory a little closer.

“But it’s okay to ask for help,” Will continued. “You know that, right? I’m one call away. I don’t care what it is, you can call me whenever. Even if it’s just to take a bath or a walk or sit in silence for ten minutes. I’m here.”

Mike’s eyes stung suddenly and he blinked, trying to will the tears away before they could fall.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I know.”

But then, after a long pause, he added, “I just… I don’t want to put this burden on you. She’s my problem. I can take care of her. I don’t want to always rely on you because I don’t want to push you away. Or make it too much. You didn’t sign up for this.”

Will shook his head gently, almost in disbelief. “Mike, come on. You think you can push me away?”

Mike hesitated. His voice was smaller when he said, “Well… I kinda did, didn’t I?”

Will closed his eyes for a second, a breath catching in his throat. “That wasn’t about you. Or you being too much.”

Mike looked at him then, brows furrowed. “Then what was it about?”

Will shifted uncomfortably. His fingers tapped against the side of his leg like he needed somewhere for the tension to go. “I was just dealing with my own shit,” he said finally. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. Because it wasn’t about you.”

Mike didn’t seem satisfied with that, but he didn’t push. He just nodded, slowly, and looked down at Rory again, brushing a piece of hair from her forehead.

The silence stretched between them again, heavier now. The kind of silence that carried unsaid things and bruised hopes. Mike looked tired, more than tired. He looked worn thin, like the edges of him were fraying. Will could see it now in ways he hadn’t noticed before: how hollow his cheeks were, how dry his lips were, how his shirt was hanging off him a little looser than usual.

And God, the image of finding him in the shower like that was burned into Will’s brain. Motionless. Soaking. Detached. Not even responding to his name. Will had been terrified. Because for a second, he thought he’d lost him.

And then there was Rory. Sitting safely in her bouncer, babbling at the ceiling. Somehow untouched by the spiral Mike had been trapped in. And Will knew. He knew, Mike had been right. Even when his mind disappeared, some part of him had been watching her. Protecting her. Keeping her safe. He’d even noticed a timer in the bathroom, probably to keep track of how long he was away from Rory.

But still. Still.

“You don’t have to be everything for her every second of every day,” Will said softly. “You’re allowed to fall apart. You’re allowed to have bad days. That doesn’t make you a bad dad. You’re doing this by yourself, Mike. That’s not nothing.”

Mike swallowed hard. He didn’t say anything.

Will glanced at Rory. Her tiny hand was still curled into Mike’s shirt, her body rising and falling gently against his chest. She looked so peaceful there. Like there was nowhere else in the world she trusted more.

“She loves you so much,” Will said.

Mike laughed, but it cracked halfway through. “Yeah,” he said. “I just..I want to be enough for her.” 

“You are,” Will said. “You’re more than enough.”

They sat there like that for a long time. The movie played on, forgotten background noise. The only thing that mattered was the silence between their words, the weight of everything they weren’t saying but still understood.

Eventually, Mike shifted, gently laying Rory between them on the couch. She barely stirred, just made a small sleepy sound and adjusted her head. Mike reached behind him for a throw blanket and draped it over her little body.

Will watched him do it. Watched the way his fingers moved carefully, like he was terrified of doing it wrong. Even now.

“I don’t know what I’d do without her,” Mike said quietly.

“You’re not going to have to find out,” Will replied.

Mike looked at him. His eyes were glassy, but the tears didn’t fall. Not yet.

“I’m trying,” he whispered. “I really am.”

“I know,” Will said. “I see how hard you’re trying every day. You’re doing good, Mike. Even if you don’t feel like it.”

Mike looked down at Rory again and gently pressed a kiss to her head.

And when Mike looked up again, something in his expression had cracked. Something deep and soft and real. He didn’t say anything, but Will could feel the weight of it anyway.

They stayed like that for the rest of the night, not talking, just sitting close, Rory between them like a heartbeat keeping time. Mike didn’t pull away when Will’s knee brushed his. Will didn’t move when Mike let his hand fall onto the couch, close enough that their fingers almost touched.

There were no answers yet. No plans or promises or confessions. But there was warmth. And safety. And the quiet reminder that even in the worst moments, they weren’t alone.

Chapter Text

Will left a few hours later, after Mike had finally come back to himself, after the fog in his mind had cleared enough for him to talk again, to reassure Will he’d be okay, that Rory would be okay. It wasn’t a full recovery, not by a long shot, but Will had looked him in the eyes and seemed to believe him. Maybe not because Mike looked fine, because he didn’t, but because Will could see that he was trying. Trying hard.

“I’ll come back tomorrow morning,” Will had said at the door, keys in hand, backpack slung over one shoulder. His voice was soft but firm. “ I’ve been a bit lonely without you guys.”

Mike had smiled, caught off guard by how warm that made him feel. He hadn’t expected that.

“Okay,” he’d whispered, and it had come out easier than he thought it would. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Will leaned in to kiss Rory on the top of her head, where her curls were finally starting to grow in. She let out a soft coo in her sleep, shifting in Mike’s arms but not waking.

Mike smiled again, then blinked when Will moved in closer and hugged him, arms wrapping around both of them in a gentle squeeze. Mike stiffened for a second, he hadn’t expected it, but then he exhaled and sank into Will’s arms, letting himself feel it. Letting himself feel safe. Rory got a little squished between them, her body squirming briefly at the pressure, but she didn’t fuss.

“Call me if you need me, okay?” Will whispered near his ear. “I don’t care if it’s 3 AM. I’ll be here.”

Mike nodded, his throat tightening. “Okay.”

And with that, Will gave him one last look and stepped out the door.

The apartment fell quiet again, and Mike stood there for a moment, holding Rory, feeling her warmth against his chest. A silence stretched between them, filled with the soft hum of the refrigerator and the distant sounds of cars outside. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and whispered, “Okay, let’s get you ready for bed.”

He carried her over to the changing table, switching on the small nightlight next to it. It glowed a soft yellow, enough to see by without disturbing the calm lull that had settled over the apartment. Rory squirmed a little as he laid her down, her eyelids fluttering open just a bit, her fingers curling instinctively toward him.

Mike reached for the wipes and a fresh diaper. “Just one more step,” he murmured, his voice tired but gentle. “Then you can go back to dreaming.”

She let out a soft grumble as he unsnapped her little onesie, her legs kicking softly in protest. “I know, I know,” he said with a faint chuckle. “Nobody likes a cold wipe.”

He worked efficiently but carefully, wiping her down and securing a clean diaper, then dressing her in a clean pair of pajamas—soft cotton, patterned with little stars and moons. Her tiny fingers kept reaching for his chest, like she didn’t want to let him go.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered. “Promise.”

He picked her back up and cradled her against him, walking toward the kitchenette where he’d left her bottle warming in a bowl of water. He tested it against the inside of his wrist, then returned to the couch, settling her into the crook of his arm.

As she drank, her little hand reached up and gripped his thumb.

Mike looked down at her, this tiny baby he somehow had the privilege of raising, and for a moment, the ache in his chest softened. Just a little.

“You’re everything, you know that?” he whispered. “Everything good I’ve ever done.”

Rory’s eyes were half-lidded now, drifting closed as she sucked slower and slower. He brushed his knuckles across her cheek, feeling the smoothness of her skin, the warmth of her breath as she finished the last of her bottle. He set it aside and adjusted her in his arms, cradling her against his shoulder.

He stood and swayed gently back and forth in the living room, humming a quiet tune,nothing specific, just a soft rhythm from somewhere in his memory. Her breathing evened out, and her little fingers unclenched.

Once she was fully asleep, Mike padded to the bedroom and lowered her into the bassinet by his bed. He kept a hand on her chest for a moment, watching it rise and fall, and only when he was sure she was out did he step away.

The house was quiet again. But it didn’t feel as suffocating as before.

He walked slowly to the bathroom, peeling off his shirt and tossing it into the hamper. His movements were deliberate, slow, like he was remembering how to care for himself in real time. He turned on the shower, letting it heat, then stepped in.

The warmth hit him instantly. It wasn’t like earlier when he’d sat under the water with his clothes on, numb to everything around him. This time he let it wash over him with intention. He let it pull the weight from his shoulders, just for a little while.

He reached for the shampoo and worked it into his hair, scrubbing out the tangles and sweat. Then he shaved carefully, methodically watching his reflection in the foggy mirror as patches of stubble disappeared.

By the time he stepped out and toweled off, he felt lighter. Not fixed. But lighter.

He dried his hair with the towel, then combed through it to get out the knots. When he opened the little box on his nightstand, the one he rarely touched, his glasses were still there. He put them on. They felt foreign on his face, but the clarity was instant.

In the back of his closet, he pulled out a worn t-shirt and a pair of soft pajama pants. 

He moved to the kitchen, made himself a cup of tea with a deadly amount of sugar and took it to the couch. On the coffee table was the book he’d started over a month ago and abandoned halfway through. He picked it up, thumbed through the pages, and settled in under a blanket, flipping to the dog-eared spot.

His eyes skimmed the words, slower than usual, but they stayed. He read a chapter, then another. The warmth of the tea, the comfort of the pajamas, the familiar feel of a book in his hands, these were small things. But they were his. And they were enough.

When the tea was finished and his eyelids had started to droop, he placed the book down and turned off the lights. The soft hum of the night returned. The little bassinet by his bed was quiet, only the faint sound of Rory’s breathing in the dark.

He slipped under the covers, staring at the ceiling for a moment.

It wasn’t perfect. He was still scared. Still lonely. Still unsure.

But tomorrow, Will would be back.

He closed his eyes.

Mike rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up, sighing a little when his gaze drifted to the clock on the nightstand. 9:00 a.m. Not terrible, but on a rare day off, he wouldn’t have minded another hour. Still, the soft whimpers coming from the bassinet left him no real choice.

He shuffled over, rubbing the sleep from his face as he peered over the edge. Rory’s tiny legs kicked at the blanket, her arms flailing slightly, but the second she saw him, really saw him, her whole face lit up.

A big, gummy smile spread across her cheeks, showing off those first few budding teeth that had been working their way in for weeks. It melted something inside of him, like it always did. The fatigue in his bones didn’t stand a chance against that smile.

“Good morning,” he murmured, leaning down to scoop her up into his arms. “You miss me, huh?”

She gurgled happily and kicked again, wrapping one little fist around the collar of his shirt as he cradled her against his chest. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, closing his eyes for a second as he rocked her gently.

Then the phone rang.

Mike sighed again, bouncing Rory gently with one arm as he reached to grab the receiver off the wall.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mike,” came Will’s voice, cheerful and slightly breathless. “Do you wanna go to a party with me?”

Mike blinked. “A… party?”

“Yeah,” Will said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “My coworker is throwing one. Music, food, people hanging out.”

Mike blinked again, half-confused, half-laughing. “Will… I have Rory. I can’t..I don’t do parties anymore.”

“No, no, no,” Will said quickly. “It’s not that kind of party. Like no beer pong or frat boys. It’s a cookout. And it’s baby friendly.”

Mike shifted Rory to his other hip. “Baby friendly..?”

“Yeah! I checked. There’s gonna be other couples with babies there too. You can totally bring her.”

Mike froze. His lips parted slightly. Other… couples?

There was a brief pause, one Will probably didn’t notice where Mike’s stomach fluttered for some stupid reason. Other couples with babies. He knew what Will meant. It was just a general phrase. Harmless. Observational. But it still hung in the air like something heavier. Something he wasn’t supposed to think too hard about.

Does he see us like that?

He said couples.

Did he mean me and him? Was that just… a slip?

Mike shook the thought out of his head quickly, forcing a breath out through his nose. Of course not. Will didn’t mean it like that. He never did.

Still, he hesitated. “I don’t know, Will…”

“Come on,” Will urged, and Mike could hear the smile in his voice. “You’ve been cooped up for days. It’ll be good for both of you. Just a few hours, fresh air, food you don’t have to cook…”

Mike looked down at Rory, who was now chewing contentedly on the collar of his shirt.

“…Okay,” he said softly.

“Yeah?” Will sounded genuinely excited now.

“Yeah,” Mike said again, this time a little more certain. “When and where?”

“I’ll pick you up at three. Just be ready!”

Mike couldn’t help the little smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. Will sounded so happy, and something about that made Mike’s chest feel warm.

“Okay, bye..” he said, still smiling. Then he hung up the phone.

Chapter Text

Mike felt weird.

And nervous.

There wasn’t really a better way to describe it. His stomach kept twisting and unknotting in waves that didn’t quite settle, and no amount of pacing around the apartment could shake the tension in his chest. It wasn’t the usual sort of dread—not like a doctor’s appointment, or one of those nights where Rory wouldn’t stop crying and he wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing. No, this was something else. Lighter, but still just as invasive.

He hadn’t been to a party in… God, forever. Not since before everything changed. Before the positive test. Before the sleepless nights, before dropping out. Before his entire life pivoted on one tiny heartbeat.

And his life was okay now, or at least most of it. He loved Rory with every fiber of his being. He didn’t regret her. But parties? Those came with bad memories, complicated feelings, loud music and too much alcohol and a hazy sense of irresponsibility he couldn’t afford anymore. He barely remembered the last one he went to. He remembered the way his skin felt too hot and his mind too detached. He remembered someone’s bedroom, and then a little later, a conversation that changed his life.

So yeah. Parties weren’t exactly in his comfort zone anymore.

Even so, he wanted to believe Will. Will, who had said it wasn’t that kind of party. Will, who had said there would be other couples with babies there.

That part still played on a loop in Mike’s mind.

Couples. With babies.

Did… did Will see them like that? Not them them, obviously, he would’ve said something. He would’ve looked at him differently. Or maybe not. Maybe Will was just trying to make him feel more comfortable by grouping them in with people who were like him, parents. Parents who were trying to figure it out. Parents who were doing their best. People who might actually understand.

Still, Mike couldn’t help but get stuck on the word couples. As in, together. As in, a unit.

And he and Will weren’t that.

Not really.

Were they?

Mike shook his head, cheeks flushing. God, shut up. Just go. It’s just a party. You said yes. You can leave early if it’s weird. He glanced over at the clock. Almost time.

Rory had just finished her bottle, and he’d gotten her dressed in a soft yellow onesie with a bunny printed across the chest. He’d combed through her curls, clipped a tiny white bow onto her head, and buckled her into her car seat while she kicked her feet and babbled softly, completely unaware that her dad was internally spiraling.

He was crouched next to the carrier, adjusting the strap on her shoulder when a knock sounded at the door.

Mike froze.

Then cursed under his breath, heart skipping as he stood and lifted the carrier’s handle with one hand, the diaper bag with the other. He tried to act natural, like he hadn’t just been panicking for the last fifteen minutes—when he turned toward the door.

But then he opened it.

And instantly forgot how to breathe.

Will stood there, backlit by sunlight, looking…

God.

His hair was slightly tousled, falling just over his forehead in a way that looked perfectly undone, like he meant it to fall that way. He was wearing a dark blue button-down, sleeves rolled just past his elbows, tucked into neat black pants. Not too formal. Not too casual. Just…effortlessly handsome in a way that made Mike’s thoughts go fuzzy.

Will smiled. “Hey.”

Mike stood there in silence, his mouth slightly open, his grip tightening on the car seat handle. He was sure he looked ridiculous, but it was like his brain had short-circuited. It was like someone had unplugged the language center in his head.

Will tilted his head. “You okay? Looks like you just had a seizure or something.”

Mike blinked hard and let out a breathy laugh. “No—I’m good. I just—uhm. It’s nothing.”

Will gave him a skeptical look, then leaned in slightly. “You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mike said quickly, heat crawling up his neck. “You just… I mean… you look—uh—good. I mean, you clean up nice.”

Will flushed immediately, eyes darting away. “Oh. Uh—th-thank you.”

Mike smiled nervously, shifting Rory’s weight as she stirred in her seat. He cursed himself for sounding like a middle schooler with a crush, but it was hard not to fumble when Will looked like that and was still smiling at him like that, all soft and bashful and earnest.

Will clicked his tongue. “So, you ready to go?”

Mike nodded. “Yeah.”

Without waiting, Will stepped forward and reached for the strap of the diaper bag slung over Mike’s shoulder. He took it gently, looping it over his own, and nodded toward the hallway. “Let’s go.”

The gesture was small. Simple. But it caught Mike off guard.

No one really carried the diaper bag but him. It was heavy. Full of Rory’s things. Full of responsibility. Most people shied away from that. But Will..Will didn’t even hesitate.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, Mike adjusted the car seat against his hip and kept a hand draped over the top to shield Rory’s eyes. She blinked sleepily, squinting in the light but calm as ever.

Will held the front door open and followed him to the curb. The car was already unlocked, Will’s keys jingling as he slipped into the front to start it up while Mike settled Rory in the back. He clicked her seat into the base with practiced ease and tucked the blanket around her legs before moving around to the passenger side.

The air inside was warm from the sun, but not uncomfortably so. Mike glanced out the window as Will pulled away from the curb.

“So…” Mike said slowly, still chewing on the words. “You said there’d be… couples. With babies.”

Will nodded as he changed lanes. “Yeah. There’s this one couple, Lena and Dani. They’ve got a toddler. Super cute. And Marissa, my coworker, she just had a baby last spring. A bunch of people from work are coming, and most of them are bringing their kids.”

Mike stared at him for a second. “Huh.”

Will glanced over. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mike said quickly, eyes darting away. “Just… I didn’t know people your age had babies already.”

“Well,” Will said with a shrug, “most of them are a little older than us. Like, mid-twenties. But yeah. It’s a pretty normal crowd.”

Mike nodded slowly. “Right.”

The car filled with a soft lull of music from the radio. Nothing loud. Just background hum.

“Just making sure,” Mike added after a beat, “this isn’t one of those… you know, real party parties.”

Will snorted. “Mike. Come on. You think I’d drag you and Rory to a kegger?”

Mike smiled faintly. “I don’t know.”

“Well, it’s baby-friendly, I promise. I checked.”

Mike sat back in his seat and stared out the window, his hand resting on the car door. The city blurred past, warm brick buildings, trees just starting to shift to fall colors. He could see Rory in the back mirror, her eyes fluttering open and shut like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to nap.

It was quiet again, but not in a bad way.

When they arrived, it was at a normal-looking house—modest, clean, not too big, not too small. Just right. A neat little front yard with trimmed grass, flower beds spilling over with marigolds and petunias, a porch swing that creaked softly in the breeze. It looked lived-in and warm, the kind of place where you could imagine childhood memories being made. A home. Not a temporary shelter, not a creaky old apartment with peeling paint and water-stained ceilings. A home.

God… Mike really hoped he could get them something like this one day.

He shut the car door a little too hard, jaw tightening. He didn’t want Rory to grow up in a cramped, drafty place that always smelled vaguely like mildew and fried onions from the neighbor. He wanted her to have a backyard. A real bedroom with shelves full of books. Birthday parties on the porch and a dog barking in the distance. It wasn’t about being fancy, it was about stability. Safety. Warmth. And right now, he couldn’t give her that.

The ache settled in his chest like a dull stone.

“Hey,” Will said gently, snapping him out of the spiral. “You ready?”

Mike blinked, then nodded. “Yeah.”

He reached into the backseat and began unbuckling Rory from her car seat. She squirmed a little, making a sleepy noise that quickly turned into a babble when she spotted Will approaching. Before Mike even had the chance to lift her fully out, Will reached in and stole her with practiced ease.

“Hey,” Mike said, squinting at him. “Thief.”

Will grinned smugly, adjusting Rory on his hip like she belonged there. “She likes me more anyway,” he said with mock arrogance, then shifted into a high-pitched baby voice, bouncing her a little. “Yeah huh, you like me better. You know it. That’s right.”

Rory let out a high-pitched squeal of glee, tiny fingers grabbing a fistful of Will’s shirt.

Mike rolled his eyes, but his heartstrings twisted painfully. She did like Will. Always lit up when she saw him. Trusted him. And watching them together—he hated how easy it was to imagine this being their life. Like this was what it could look like if things were different. 

He cleared his throat. “So… should we go in?”

Will nodded, adjusting Rory like a seasoned pro. “Oh yeah. Let’s go.”

They walked up the steps together, Will holding Rory securely, Mike carrying the diaper bag slung over his shoulder. The door opened before they even knocked, revealing a bubbly woman with curly hair and wide eyes.

“Byers, you came!” she exclaimed with a big grin. “And you brought the cutie!”

She immediately got closer to Rory’s level, cooing in a baby voice. “Hi there! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Rory smiled shyly, burying her face into Will’s shoulder for a second before peeking back out.

The woman looked up, eyes landing on Mike with curiosity and warmth. “You must be Mike.”

“Yeah,” he said, shifting his weight awkwardly. “That’s me.”

“I’m Lena ,” she said. “And this is my boyfriend, Dani.”

Dani gave a little wave and a polite smile from behind her shoulder. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“Mostly everyone’s outside,” Lena added, gesturing toward the back. “We’ve got a grill going, a little drink table, nothing crazy. Food should be ready soon.”

They nodded, murmured thank-yous, and followed the crowd toward the backyard. It was a chill vibe, just like Will promised. Lawn chairs, soft music playing from a speaker somewhere, a picnic table full of snacks, and several couples milling about…some with babies of their own, toddling around or being rocked in slings. No beer pong, no loud shouting, no drunken laughter echoing through the walls. Just low, peaceful energy.

Mike exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

They found a small, square table toward the back and settled there. Mike pulled out a blanket from the diaper bag and laid it on the grass, placing Rory on it with a few of her favorite toys. She smiled happy to be free.

Will knelt beside her, tickling her belly. “What’s up, bug? You like it here?”

Rory babbled happily and swatted at one of her plushies. Will chuckled and flopped down onto the blanket beside her, letting her crawl into his lap as he made silly noises.

Mike sat down, watching them. He didn’t know what he expected when Will invited him, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t Rory smiling and squealing and Will grinning like his entire heart was contained in her tiny little face.

Every so often, Rory would turn to Mike and stretch her hands out. “Da!”

And a few times, when she was looking straight into Will’s eyes ‘Da’s’ would escape.

They didn’t acknowledge it.

Didn’t flinch, didn’t joke. Just let it pass, like it didn’t sit between them heavy and warm.

At one point, two girls came over and politely asked if they could join the table, everything else was full. Mike nodded, scooting over a bit. The girls looked around their age, maybe a little older, both dressed casually in jeans and denim jackets.

A little while later one of them cooed at Rory.

“She’s so cute,” the girl with freckles said.

Will smiled and bounced Rory lightly on his knee. “Yeah. She really is.”

“She yours?” the other girl asked, gesturing with a tilt of her chin.

Mike was about to answer, but the freckled one cut in, grinning. “You guys are really cute dads.”

Everything stopped.

Mike stiffened in his chair, and Will froze mid-bounce.

Cute dads.

Mike’s brain short-circuited.

Will’s ears turned red, visibly red, like someone had just cranked the heat on them. He looked down at Rory, then over at Mike, then back at the girls.

“Uh—” he stammered. “She’s not mine. I mean—I’m Will. This is Mike. And this sweetheart is Rory. She’s Mike’s daughter.”

The girls blinked, looked at each other, and then instantly launched into embarrassed apologies.

“Oh my God—we’re so sorry—”

“Yeah, we just assumed—I mean she looks just like you— but she was calling him dad— shit— God, that’s on us, we shouldn’t have—”

“No no,” Mike said quickly, cutting in. His voice was tight, but not unkind. “It’s okay. He’s really good with her. I don’t blame you.”

Will looked away, biting his lip, but a small, shy smile played on his face anyway.

The girls chuckled nervously and tried to steer the conversation in a new direction, asking how old Rory was and if she reached any milestones. Will fielded most of the answers, still bouncing her gently on his lap, while Mike tried to calm the hot swirl in his chest.

It was okay.

They weren’t dating. Will wasn’t Rory’s dad. But also… he kind of was. Emotionally. Spiritually. In every way except for blood and legality.

Mike glanced over at him—Will blowing raspberries on Rory’s hand, Rory squealing in joy and thought, God, I’m so screwed.

Rory had fallen asleep nestled in the cradle of his legs, her tiny body curled with one fist loosely clutching the fabric of his shirt. She looked so peaceful, so impossibly small lying there with her cheek smushed against his thigh and her little pink lips parted slightly in sleep. Her eyelashes cast soft shadows across her cheeks, and every now and then she gave a content sigh, that little baby sigh that melted him from the inside out.

Mike stroked her hair gently, brushing a few strands back from her forehead. He couldn’t help it, he still couldn’t believe she was real sometimes. That she was his. That he had this little person in his life who relied on him, needed him, loved him in her own little baby way.

And he wanted to be everything for her. Everything she deserved.

The ache from before returned to his chest. God, he hoped one day he could get them a place like this. Not big or fancy just something decent. Something with a little yard. Somewhere Rory could take her first steps and fall down in the grass and not land on concrete or broken glass or whatever the hell else lined the parking lot outside their crappy apartment. Just… something more. She deserved more.

The ache in his chest threatened to swell too big, and he had to swallow hard to push it down. He wasn’t going to cry here. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of Will.

Speaking of..he looked over and saw Will still sitting with him, even though Mike had told him twice now he didn’t have to stay.

“Will,” he said quietly, trying not to wake Rory. “You can go talk to your friends, you know. You don’t have to just sit here with us. We’re okay.”

Will glanced at him like he’d said something completely baffling. “I am having a good time. What do you mean?”

Mike rolled his eyes, even if a part of him warmed at the words. “Will. Just go. This is your coworker’s party. You came here to hang out with your friends, not babysit me.”

Will opened his mouth, clearly about to argue again, but Mike gave him a look and made a little shooing gesture with his hand.

“Go,” he said, softer this time. “We’re good.”

Will hesitated another moment, like he didn’t want to leave at all, and then finally nodded, pushing to his feet. “Okay. I’ll be right over there if you need anything.”

“I know,” Mike said, watching him walk away with a faint smile. Of course he’d be nearby. Will was always nearby. Always reliable. Always kind. Always—

He stopped the thought before it could go somewhere it wasn’t supposed to.

He let his focus drift back to Rory. She was still sleeping soundly, her chest rising and falling steadily, and he relaxed again, letting the hum of conversation settle into the background. He didn’t even notice the girl standing nearby until her shadow fell across the blanket.

“Oh my god,” a voice said above him. “Your baby is so cute.”

Mike blinked up at the girl, who looked to be around his age, maybe a year older. She had soft brown hair and big brown eyes, and she was smiling down at Rory like she was looking at a puppy in a pet store window.

“What’s her name?” she asked, kneeling down a little.

“Uh,” Mike said, caught off guard. “Aurora. Rory.”

“She’s adorable,” the girl said, grinning. “I’m Ellie. Mind if I sit?”

Mike hesitated for a second, not really in the mood to talk to strangers, but it felt rude to say no, especially when she was being so nice about Rory.

“Sure,” he said, nodding toward the edge of the blanket.

She sat down gracefully, careful not to jostle the baby, and immediately launched into a stream of questions. How old was Rory? If her mom was here? Did she sleep through the night? Was she crawling yet?

Mike answered them all politely but simply, not giving too much detail. He wasn’t trying to be cold, he just didn’t want to have a full-on interview while his daughter was sleeping between his legs. Still, she kept talking, clearly interested, and at one point she told a ridiculous story about a horrible babysitting incident. 

Mike burst out laughing, the sound sharp and real and completely unexpected. “Oh my god,” he said through a grin, trying not to laugh too loudly. “That’s awful.”

“I know, right?” Ellie laughed with him, eyes sparkling.

Across the yard, Will heard the laugh before he saw anything. His head snapped toward the sound before he even realized he was doing it.

Mike.

That was Mike’s laugh.

He spotted him instantly—still on the blanket with Rory, but now… now he wasn’t alone.

A girl was sitting with him. Laughing with him.

Talking to him.

Will’s body went rigid, his hands clenched at his sides as he stared. It wasn’t like he had some kind of claim over Mike. He didn’t. He knew that. But the sight still twisted something sharp in his gut. Something raw. Something that felt an awful lot like jealousy.

Because it wasn’t just that the girl was talking to Mike, it was that Mike was laughing. Laughing with her. Smiling at her.

And Will knew that smile. Knew that laugh. Knew how rare it had become.

Before he really thought it through, his legs were already moving. The party noise dulled around him, everything else shrinking to static. He cut across the yard and approached the blanket like it was enemy territory.

Mike looked up as he got closer, eyebrows lifting. “Hey,” he said, giving Will a small smile.

“Hey,” Will said, and he didn’t look at the girl at all. “We should go.”

Mike blinked. “Go?”

“Yeah. It’s getting late,” Will said, pointedly glancing at Rory. “It’s close to her bedtime. We should get home.”

Mike frowned a little. “She’s asleep right now. She’s fine.”

Before Will could say anything else, the girl—Ellie—chimed in brightly. “C’mon, stay a while longer. We’re having fun,” she said, smiling directly at Mike.

Will’s jaw tightened. That was it.

“No, actually,” he said, voice a little too sharp. “I think we need to get home now.”

He said it with weight. With emphasis.

Home.

Like it was their shared home. Like they lived together. 

And Ellie’s eyes widened. She looked between them, then down at Rory, then back up at Mike, and suddenly her face went red.

“Oh! Oh my god,” she said, hands flying up. “Sorry, I didn’t— I just— wow, this is— sorry. Sorry Mike I didn’t know you were… well, y’know—” She was already getting to her feet, flustered and stumbling over her words. “I’m gonna go. But it was really nice meeting you, Mike. Again sorry I didn’t realize..”

She didn’t wait for a response before hurrying off, clearly mortified.

Mike turned to Will slowly, brow furrowed. “What was that?”

Will shrugged, feigning innocence. “What?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me. You scared her off. I mean thanks but why..?”

“I didn’t scare her,” Will said, kneeling down and helping gather up the stuff they’d brought. “She left on her own.”

“Because you said ‘we need to get home’ like it was a threat”

Will paused, then looked up at him, voice quieter now. “Don’t we?”

Mike stared at him.

The air between them felt full. Like it was holding something too fragile, too important, and the wrong word might break it open.

“I mean,” Will added quickly, eyes dropping to Rory as he gently lifted her, “I just meant Rory needs to sleep well and so do we...”

“Right,” Mike said, voice flat.

Will adjusted Rory against his shoulder with practiced ease, her little head tucking into his neck like it was second nature.

Mike exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. He was too tired for this. Too confused.

But even as he bent down to roll up the blanket, he couldn’t help but glance over at Will, holding Rory.

The drive to the apartment was quiet at first, the kind of quiet that wasn’t quite comfortable but not entirely tense either, just the stillness that came when both people were trying not to be the first one to speak.

The radio was on low, playing something soft and unremarkable, the kind of music meant to fill space more than entertain. Mike was driving now, he had his eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel and the other resting protectively near Rory’s car seat, even though she was perfectly secure and sleeping soundly behind them.

Will sat in the passenger seat, hands fiddling with the edge of his sweatshirt, trying to think of a way to bring it up without sounding… well. Without sounding like he was jealous. Even though he absolutely was.

Because that girl had been flirting with Mike. Obviously. And Mike hadn’t even noticed.

Or… had he?

Will stared out the window for a while, watching the trees blur past in the fading light. But the words were building in his chest, gathering weight like they always did when he tried to push down feelings that refused to stay quiet. He knew if he didn’t say something, it would eat at him all night, gnawing away until he was stuck staring at the ceiling wondering what could have happened if he had.

So he cleared his throat and said casually–too casually, maybe “So… who was that?”

Mike blinked, then glanced over with a confused look before realizing who Will meant. He made a face like someone had asked him to recall the taste of expired milk.

“Oh. Just some girl. Ellie, I think.”

Will kept his eyes fixed forward. “What did she want?”

Mike shrugged, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. “She saw Rory and came over. Said she was cute. Asked if she could sit down, and I didn’t wanna be rude, so I said sure. But she talked a lot.”

He snorted softly to himself, like he couldn’t believe how chatty she’d been.

Will hesitated a beat, then pushed further, voice light but laced with something sharper underneath. “Sooo… did you like her?”

Mike’s head jerked slightly toward him, eyes narrowed in confusion. “What?”

“I mean,” Will went on, trying to sound as unaffected as possible, “it looked like you guys were having a good time. And you haven’t been with anyone since… uh well I thought maybe you would’ve gotten her number or something.”

Mike let out a laugh—loud, incredulous, disbelieving. “What? No.” He turned fully to look at Will, eyebrows raised high. “God, Will, no. I didn’t— That didn’t even cross my mind. I was just hoping she’d quiet down so Rory wouldn’t wake up!”

Will’s shoulders relaxed at that, a breath slipping out before he even realized he’d been holding it. “Oh. Good,” he said softly, almost to himself.

But Mike caught it.

And the corner of his mouth twitched as he turned back to the road. “Good?” he repeated, glancing sideways with a smirk. “Why good?”

Will’s ears went hot instantly. “I—what?” he fumbled. “No, I just meant—like, Rory. I don’t wanna, y’know, share my favorite person with anyone. C’mon, Mike.”

Mike gave him a look—amused, unconvinced. “Sure, Will.”

Will groaned and slouched down in his seat, covering his face with one hand. “Shut up.”

Mike laughed, that real, warm laugh that made Will’s chest do things it shouldn’t, and he didn’t push it. Not more than that. Just let the air settle again with that same easy warmth that always bloomed between them when things felt right.

The road stretched out ahead, soft with the last light of day, and behind them Rory stirred in her sleep, murmuring something incoherent before falling still again.

Mike glanced in the rearview mirror, then down at Will’s hand where it rested near the center console—close, but not touching.

His fingers twitched, just barely.

But he didn’t move them.

Yet.

Chapter Text

The drive home was quiet.

The kind of quiet Mike liked, at least on nights like this. Soft music played low on the radio, the kind with no words, just instruments that filled the space without demanding attention. Rory was asleep in her car seat, her cheek pressed against the side, pacifier barely hanging on.

Mike glanced at her in the rearview mirror, and then at Will, who sat in the passenger seat, relaxed, looking out the window with a faint smile still playing on his lips from earlier.

They pulled into the parking space in front of Mike’s apartment. The lot was half-lit and mostly empty, the glow from a nearby streetlight catching the sheen on the windshield. Mike turned the key, and the engine went silent. He didn’t move at first. Just looked at Rory. Peaceful, innocent, unaware.

Will opened the door gently, stepping out and going around to the back seat to unbuckle her. Mike climbed out slower, collecting the diaper bag and the car seat base, opening the front door to the building with a slight grunt.

Will cradled Rory with both arms like it came naturally. Her tiny head lolled against his shoulder but didn’t stir. They took the stairs quietly, and Mike opened the apartment door, flicking on the low light over the stove.

Everything was warm inside, quiet, safe. Familiar.

Will took Rory to the room and laid her in the crib with practiced ease. Mike hovered in the doorway, watching. He still hadn’t fully shaken the party from his skin, or the way Will had looked earlier, possessive in the softest, most protective way when that girl had sat beside him.

“You’re so good with her,” Mike said under his breath, almost like he hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

Will looked over his shoulder, his face soft and slightly pink. “Thanks. I just… I like being around her.”

Mike nodded. “I had a good time tonight. You were right. Even if I we didn't do much.”

Will smiled. “Told you. I’ll invite you to the next one.”

Mike hesitated. He didn’t want Will to leave yet. Didn’t know how to ask him to stay without sounding stupid or clingy. But Will was already stepping back, brushing his hands off like he didn’t want to overstay.

“Well… I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Mike said, a little too fast. “Yeah, I’ve got the day off.”

Will started to turn away, but Mike’s hand shot out instinctively, catching his wrist. Will turned back with a questioning look, and before he could ask anything, Mike surged forward and kissed him.

It was instant. Warm. Real.

Their lips met like it had happened a thousand times before. Mike gripped the sides of Will’s jacket, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss without thinking. It was too much, too fast, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to.

Will responded with just as much heat, hands on Mike’s waist, then up into his hair, tugging just enough to make Mike gasp. They stumbled backward until Mike’s back hit the door.

It was messy. Perfect.

Will kissed down his neck, lips grazing his pulse point, making Mike’s knees go weak. His breath hitched, head tilting to the side as Will kept going, kisses turning wet and open-mouthed.

“Will,” Mike breathed, hands running up Will’s back under his jacket, pulling him closer.

Then they were on his bed. Somehow.

Will was on top of him, straddling him on the bed, hips pressing down, mouths fusing together again. Mike’s fingers threaded into the hair at the back of Will’s neck. Everything was heat and softness and pressure. And then Will leaned back just enough to look down at him, his eyes burning.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Mike stared up at him. “Me too.”

Will leaned down again, kissed the corner of Mike’s mouth, then his cheek, then down his throat. Mike gasped and arched slightly beneath him, a noise he didn’t recognize slipping from his lips.

Will reached for the hem of his shirt, fingers brushing skin—

And then—

Gone.

Everything was gone.

Mike sat bolt upright in bed, sweat clinging to his skin, breath caught in his chest.

Darkness.

Reality.

His room.

His shitty fan clicking softly from the corner. The orange glow of the streetlight pouring through the window blinds. Rory, sleeping peacefully in her crib beside the bed, her tiny fingers curled around the edge of her blanket.

His chest rose and fell in heavy breaths. His skin was damp, and his mouth still felt like Will’s had just been there.

“Jesus,” he whispered, pressing a hand to his chest.

He pushed the covers back and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. His heart wouldn’t slow down. That dream—god, it had felt so real. So impossibly real.

He dragged his hands down his face.

Will. He’d dreamed about Will. Again.

Only this time it wasn’t like the others..brief flashes or vague warmth. This one had weight. Heat. Kisses. Hands. Words. Want.

Mike lay back down, staring at the ceiling, the sheets bunched around his waist. He let out a shaky sigh.

He didn’t want this.

Not like this.

Because if he did?

It might ruin everything.

Mike rolled over, facing the crib. Rory’s chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm, her tiny mouth slack with sleep.

“You have no idea what’s going on in my head, huh?” he whispered to her. “Probably for the best.”

He closed his eyes, willing the ghost of the dream to fade. But it stayed.

The feel of Will’s mouth.

The weight of his body.

The way he’d said I’ve wanted this for so long.

Mike let out a broken breath and threw his arm over his eyes.

He’d sleep eventually.

Hopefully without dreaming.

Chapter Text

It had been a week. A long, aching week. Will had come over pretty much every day after Mike got off work, and it was killing him. Slowly. Painfully. Having someone he wanted so badly just… there on the couch, at the table, holding Rory, laughing like it was easy. Like Mike wasn’t falling apart every time their shoulders brushed, or when Will tucked a blanket around Rory with that soft tenderness that made Mike’s chest feel like it was caving in.

Sometimes he just wanted to grab Will’s face and plant a big, stupid, fat kiss on his mouth. No warning, just do it. Like a goddamn movie. And sometimes he caught himself almost doing it. Just leaning forward without thinking, like gravity wanted them together.

But every time, Mike pulled himself back.

Because why would Will want him?

He came with so much baggage it wasn’t even funny. He had a kid. A whole tiny person he was raising in a crappy apartment he could barely afford. Yeah, Will loved Rory, he did, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be a dad. Not at nineteen. Not now, not ever. And Mike? Mike was a college dropout, he was broke, he was bitter and angry more days than not. And the most obvious thing of all?

Will wasn’t like him. Will wasn’t gay.

And that was just something Mike was going to have to live with. Just like everything else.

Today, though, was different. Mike had the next two days off miraculously. Will had told him the night before that he had a surprise for them and to pack warm. “Like, winter warm,” he’d said with a grin.

Which—yeah, no shit, it’s winter. But Mike didn’t question it. Not really.

He got Rory all bundled up in her little puffball coat with the ears on the hood and her fleecy mittens that made it impossible for her to grab anything, which frustrated her to no end. She looked like a marshmallow and it made his chest ache. He packed the diaper bag like he was preparing for a three-day hike. Diapers, wipes, a bottle, snacks, two changes of clothes, her blanket, and the weird little stuffed mouse she wouldn’t sleep without.

Then he got himself ready.

He hated dressing for the cold, really hated it. But he layered anyway. His thickest coat, the one that felt like wearing a sleeping bag, a beanie that flattened his hair in all the worst ways, and gloves that made his fingers feel clumsy and useless. He looked like a total dork.

But better that than having cold hands touch Rory’s skin. Or getting himself sick and then getting her sick. No thank you.

Once they were all packed and bundled, he sat down in the living room. Rory was playing on the floor, waving her arms and gnawing on a soft plastic ring toy, and Mike just watched her. Her cheeks were already pink from the warm clothes, and she looked up at him now and then with this gummy smile that made his heart feel like it was melting.

Ten minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Mike pushed himself up with a sigh and opened it to find Will standing there, just as bundled up as him, maybe more. His scarf was crooked, and his hat was lopsided, but of course he still looked stupidly cute because life wasn’t fair.

“Hey,” Will said with a grin, and stepped in, brushing snow off his shoulders.

Mike smiled, already feeling lighter just seeing him. “Hey.”

Will leaned in and gave him a soft hug, the kind where their arms wrapped around each other awkwardly because of the layers but it still warmed Mike more than any coat ever could.

“So,” Will said, stepping back, cheeks red from the cold, “you guys ready?”

“Yeah,” Mike nodded. “All packed.”

“Okay, let’s head out then,” Will said, already reaching forward. “Here, I’ll help you—”

Mike held out the diaper bag, expecting him to grab it, but Will completely ignored it and went straight for Rory.

“Oh my god,” Mike muttered, eyes narrowing. “You traitor. I knew it. You just want me to come so you can steal my kid.”

Will just grinned as he picked Rory up with practiced ease, tucking her against his chest. “Possibly.”

Mike made a face of betrayal and pointed at him like I knew it, but it didn’t stop him from smiling. He grabbed their bags, swung his own backpack over his shoulder, and followed them out the door, locking it behind him.

Outside, the cold hit him like a wall, sharp and biting, wind sneaking through the cracks in his gloves. Will was already at the car, cooing at Rory, who was making delighted little noises as she looked up at him like he’d hung the moon.

Mike rolled his eyes, heart clenching with something between fondness and longing.

They’d been driving for about an hour and a half when Mike finally broke.

He squirmed in his seat, stretching his legs a little under the dash, and glanced at the road ahead before turning sharply to Will.

“Okay, seriously,” he said, voice edged with dramatic exasperation. “Where the hell are we going?”

Will smirked, eyes fixed on the road. “Not telling.”

Mike groaned, flopping his head back against the headrest like the answer physically pained him. “Will.”

Will bit back a laugh, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with the music playing softly from the radio. “You’ll see when we get there.”

Mike slumped deeper into the seat and twisted to look into the backseat where Rory was sitting snug and content, bundled like a snow pea in her car seat. “I don’t know how you like him so much,” he muttered to her, voice just loud enough for Will to hear. “He’s so mean to me.”

Will snorted. “She knows I’m fun. You’re just bitter.”

Mike turned back toward the front and huffed. “You’re such an ass. Just tell me.”

“Nope,” Will said, drawing out the word, clearly enjoying himself.

Mike rolled his eyes so hard it nearly gave him a headache. He pulled his coat tighter around him even though it wasn’t cold in the car, then turned himself in the seat toward the window like a pouting child and closed his eyes. “This is technically kidnapping you know.”

Will only grinned, glancing over at him briefly with soft eyes before turning back to the road.

The car rolled forward through quiet winter roads, and for a little while, everything felt still.

Mike didn’t know when exactly he’d fallen asleep. One minute he was groaning at Will’s refusal to share the destination, slumped dramatically against the passenger door with his eyes squeezed shut—and the next, his eyes were slowly blinking open to unfamiliar scenery beyond the window.

It took a second for his brain to catch up. The skyline was huge. Towering buildings. Steel and glass catching the dull winter sunlight. People walking down busy sidewalks in thick coats and scarves. Traffic humming along wide roads. A train rattled overhead on rusted tracks and disappeared around a corner.

Mike sat up fast.

“What the—”

He twisted in his seat and stared out the windshield, then whipped around to glance at the backseat. Rory was still snoozing, head tilted slightly in her puffy hood, cheeks flushed from the warmth of the car.

He turned back to the front.

“What the fuck.”

Will glanced over with a grin, hands steady on the steering wheel. “Hey, you’re awake.”

Mike’s mouth opened but nothing came out at first. His heart was racing with confused excitement, still trying to bridge the gap between sleep and what was now clearly reality.

“Where—” Mike blinked again, then finally looked at Will with wide eyes. “Where are we?”

Will’s smile widened a little. “Chicago.”

Mike stared at him. Just stared. “You’re shitting me.”

“Nope,” Will said, clearly very pleased with himself.

“No way.” Mike twisted back toward the window again, forehead nearly hitting the glass as he stared at the city blurring past. “Oh my god…”

Will laughed quietly. “You always said you’d never been before.”

Mike turned back to him, still stunned. “Yeah, like—like years ago, I mentioned that one time.”

Will shrugged. “I remembered.”

Mike let out a soft, disbelieving sound as he looked out the window again. His breath fogged a little on the glass, and his eyes scanned everything, the buildings, the people, the winter skyline stretching endlessly up into the clouds. It was loud, alive, overwhelming in the best possible way.

After a few seconds, he leaned back into his seat and turned his head toward Will again, eyes still wide. “Okay but like… what are we doing here?”

Will glanced sideways at him, and there was that smirk again, the kind that made Mike feel like he was somehow already walking into a trap, but a good one. The kind that made his stomach flip.

“You’ll see,” Will said.

Mike groaned. “You and your stupid surprises.”

“But first,” Will said, like he hadn’t even heard the complaint, “we’re meeting up with some friends of mine for lunch. If that’s okay with you. I met them the first time I visited here with Robin back in senior year.”

Mike blinked, surprised again, but this time in a softer way. He leaned back against the seat and nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, of course.”

They stopped in front of a massive brick building, tall and modern but with a slightly older charm, tucked in among the glass towers like it had history. Mike craned his neck to look up from the passenger seat.

“Is this… someone’s place?” he asked.

Will had a mischievous glint in his eye as he parked. “Yep.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “You kidnapped us to go to a stranger’s apartment?”

Will just grinned and opened his door. “Get out of the car, Mike.”

Mike did, still eyeing the building warily as he rounded the car and got Rory out of her seat. She stirred a little but settled right back into his shoulder once he had her in his arms. Will grabbed the diaper bag without being asked, slinging it over his shoulder like second nature.

Inside, they climbed stairs, passed a few quiet hallways, and eventually stopped in front of door 427. Will knocked once, then twice more, a beat Mike thought must’ve been some kind of inside joke.

The door opened, and standing there were two boys.

One had platinum blond hair, slicked back, and striking blue eyes. He had a sharp jawline and an easy smirk already forming. The other was taller, with chestnut brown curls that fell a little over his forehead and had a warmer look to him, softer around the edges but still very clearly confident. They were… good looking. Like, objectively good looking. Mike felt himself straighten up slightly without meaning to.

“Hey!” Will said, already stepping forward for a quick hug from each of them. “Missed you guys.”

“About time,” the blond one said. Then he turned his eyes toward Mike. “So this is the famous Mike, huh?”

Mike blinked. “Wait—I’m famous?”

“Hi, I’m Austin,” the blond one said, stepping forward. “And you must be Mike,” he said with a grin before gesturing at the second guy. “And this is Eric, my boyfriend.”

Mike froze for a second. Boyfriends? But he forced a smile. “It’s uh..nice to meet you.” 

Austin grinned and shook his hand firmly. “Good to finally meet you too. Will talks about you all the time.”

Mike’s brain short-circuited for a second at that, but Eric stepped forward and saved him from having to respond, leaning slightly to get a better look at the bundle in Mike’s arms.

“And this must be Rory,” Eric said, eyes lighting up. “Oh my god, she’s adorable.”

Mike glanced down at his daughter, who was still snoozing softly, unaware she was being admired. “Thanks,” he said, a bit bashfully.

“Come in, come in,” Austin said, stepping aside and waving them into the apartment. “We’re just finishing up in the kitchen.”

The place was nice. Not overly decorated, but warm. Lived-in. It had touches of their personalities, plants by the windows, vinyls stacked by a record player, jackets over the back of chairs. Mike took it in as they were led through and into a cozy kitchen where something smelled really good.

As Eric moved toward the counter and started arranging dishes, Austin turned and said, “We figured we’d eat upstairs. Rooftop’s all set up. Heaters are running, don’t worry, Rory won’t turn into ice.”

Mike gave a grateful nod, shifting Rory a little closer. The cold had been his biggest concern.

They made their way up one more flight of stairs and through a narrow hallway, then pushed open a heavy rooftop door. Cold air nipped at Mike’s cheeks instantly, but it wasn’t too bad—definitely manageable. And sure enough, there were big outdoor heaters flickering with orange light, casting warmth over the space. A large table sat in the center, surrounded by mismatched but comfortable chairs, and there were even a few extra blankets thrown over the backs.

“Damn,” Mike said under his breath. “You guys don’t mess around.”

Eric turned and grinned. “You only get one first impression, right?”

Will had jumped in to help them carry trays and dishes, chatting easily with both boys. Mike felt a little awkward just hovering, holding Rory, but he figured it wasn’t like he could really help anyway, not with a baby nestled against his chest. He quietly found a spot beside one of the heaters and sat down, rubbing Rory’s back gently as she stirred.

A few minutes later, everyone was seated, and Eric came over, balancing a small plastic container in one hand.

“Will told me you were bringing a little one, so I made her a tiny pasta and packed some cut fruit,” he said, offering it to Mike. “You don’t have to use it, but… figured I’d try.”

Mike blinked, genuinely touched. “Oh—thank you. Seriously, that’s really kind of you.”

“No problem,” Eric said with a smile before returning to his spot.

Dinner began, and conversation started flowing like it had been bottled up for months. Mike mostly listened at first, half-focused on making sure Rory was okay and fed but it didn’t take long for him to get pulled in.

Austin was telling a ridiculous story about how he and Eric had first met Will.

“It was, what, 1988?” he said, fork waving in the air. “He and Robin came to the city for some kind of art thing, and we were working this gallery pop-up down by the lake.”

“More like crashing it,” Eric said, snorting.

“Okay technically crashing,” Austin admitted, “but anyway, we ran into them outside, and Robin said something about looking for good food that wouldn’t give her food poisoning so naturally, we adopted them.”

Mike looked at Will. “And you just… went with them?”

“They promised not to kidnap us,” Will said, deadpan, which made everyone laugh. “Besides, they were nice. And they had this incredible hot chocolate spot in mind.”

Mike smiled, watching how relaxed Will was, how easy this version of him seemed. The way he tilted his head back when he laughed, the way he let Eric rest an arm casually on his shoulder while talking to Austin. Like he belonged here. Like this wasn’t just a place he visited. It was a place he fit into.

It did something to Mike’s chest. A pinch. A little twist.

He looked down at Rory, now chewing on a tiny piece of fruit and babbling softly, then back at Will.

This was… good. This whole thing was good. And watching Will surrounded by people who knew him so well, who clearly adored him, who brought out something in him that Mike couldn’t even name felt both warm and bittersweet.

But mostly warm.

Mike smiled faintly, one hand cradling Rory and the other resting over his knee. His coat was still zipped, cheeks still pink from the cold, but he wasn’t uncomfortable.

For the first time in a long time, he felt okay sitting among people he didn’t know. Maybe it was because of Will. Maybe it was the way Eric and Austin treated him like someone worth talking to.

Either way, as laughter filled the rooftop and the city lights flickered beyond the edges of the building, Mike felt a tiny piece of himself settle.

This..this was nice.