Chapter 1

It's loud and crowded, smoking hanging heavy in the air like a fog, as bass thumps and bodies move together on the makeshift dance floor. Michael Wheeler stands off to one side, nursing a warm, red Solo cup of flat keg beer and pretending for the sake of his friends that he's having a good time. It's hot, and loud, and the mass of people here are their classmates and it's hard to act like he cares for them when they're sober. Drunk and high, they are more obnoxious and aggravating than ever.

"Thirty more minutes," Will Byers says in a hushed voice beside him. "Thirty more minutes abs it will be perfectly acceptable to get the hell out of here." Mike nods in total agreement, lifting his cup to take a swig and instantly wincing. This beer is gross - not that he has anything to compare it to, but he can't help but think it has to be better if so many adults drink it.

The fact that they're even here, in Jennifer Hayes' house on Rockwell Drive, in the fancy new subdivision where the houses are big, modern, and boast two or more garages and have swimming pools, makes Mike frown. They weren't popular, by any means. Lucas Sinclair was the only athletic one of their group, football in the fall and baseball in the spring, and that was how they were invited. Lucas wanted to come because of the redheaded new girl, Max Mayfield. She'd shoved a flyer at him after school Friday afternoon, a flirty crooked grin on her face and instructions that he'd better show if he wanted a chance to get in her Calvin Klein's.

Dustin Henderson, the fourth member of what they'd been hatefully dubbed in middle school, the Nerd Herd, was ecstatic at the chance to mingle and maybe try his luck with some girls. Ever since his teeth came in back during freshmen year, he'd been angling at becoming a ladies' man to no luck. He was always optimistic, however, and as they'd rode to Jennifer's Saturday evening in his hand-me-down Station Wagon (lovingly named the Shaggin' Wagon out of his mother's hearing range), Dustin had been overflowing with mirth and cheer.

Usually it was infectious, but Mike was simply not in the mood. He wanted to stay home and lament his mother's impending wedding, meeting the man that was to become his stepfather. Jim Hopper. What kind of a name was that? Nancy was luckily avoiding the mess, all the way in California at Stanford with Steve Harrington, though both would return in the summer for the wedding. It was only a couple months away.

Just thinking about it made him grimace, but he quickly slugged down the rest of his disgusting beer to cover it. "I'm gonna get another," he tells Will, wiggling the cup before turning quickly and losing himself in the crowd.

Sure, Jim seems nice enough. He's a cop, taking over the chief of police position. It was fortunate for him, Mike thinks, that the old chief happened to be retiring at precisely the perfect time. So not only will Mike have a new Dad, but he'll also have a cop hanging around all the time. The thought makes his palms sweat; he's never so much as had a speeding ticket, but he's still antsy around authority figures.

The line for the keg is short and Mike lets some random guy fill it, nodding as he rambles on about the killer party. "It's legendary," he slurs, and Mike frowns but doesn't comment as he takes his cup and moves out to the back deck.

It's late April, and still a bit chilly, but there are even more people out here and smoke longs for some quiet as the familiar pounding in his temples begins. The smoke, the inane, deafening chatter, the obnoxiously loud music, it's all too much and he finds himself longing for bed. His house is always quiet since Ted left, no more screaming matches behind slammed doors, no more car engines rumbling to life in the middle of the night, no more plates smashed against walls... and with Nancy gone, too, there isn't even the distraction of her stereo blasting from down the hall. Mike misses the noise in a way; it took his mind off of things. But now he craves silence, and being alone. He stares into the dark amber beer in his cup with a glum expression, when someone jostles into him and it sloshes over the rim onto his T-shirt.

"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" Then a burst of laughter and hands fumbling over his chest and stomach, slapping at the wet material and furthering his annoyance. "I'm so sorry. I'm so clumsy."

Mike sucks in a breath, willing the irritation to recede - fuck thirty minutes, he wants to leave now - when his dark gaze lands on the offending person and he sucks in a surprised breath.

It's not one of the typical mouthbreathers from school. In fact, Mike knows that he's never seen her before, as his memory is close to impeccable and she would most certainly have made an impression. Wide, dark brown eyes rimmed in darker liner, beneath a mop of wild, chocolate brown curls that orbit her head like a halo. She's wearing a flannel over a pair of bib-overalls, which would have seemed dorky on anyone else, and dirty white Chucks. Her mouth tilts into a smile as her cheeks turn rosy with blush, and Mike can't remember quite how to breathe.

"Sorry," she says again, after a too long stretch of silence. Mike clicks his mouth shut, shakes away the haze that's settled in his mind.

"It's ok," he says. "Accidents... happen." He sounds like a fourth grader but she doesn't seem to notice, instead nodding and smiling bigger. Wow, he thinks. Wow.

"Sorry. My friend dragged me here - I'm not really into this scene but, when in Rome, right?" She clinks her cup against his almost empty one and then downs the contents, sloppily wiping her sleeve over her mouth. Mike does the same, simply to have something to do with his hands. A girl this pretty has never woken to him, or continued to carry on a conversation with him, and he's flooded with nerves.

"Yeah, um - same. I mean, my friends -" Mike gestures towards the house behind him, as someone whoops and then slams the sliding door. "Dragged me too."

"Max said I have to meet new people," she goes on, one hand ruffling through her hair. "Like, because I'm moving here, and she said that I should get to know my classmates." She rolls her eyes and Mike can barely breathe. Maybe it's the awful beer going to his head.

"You aren't from Hawkins?" He asks, desperate to keep the conversation rolling. His damp T-shirt clings to his skin and a chilly April breeze floats by, making them both shiver.

"No. I just moved. Sorta." She shakes her head and the creeping frown is replaced by another dazzling grin. "I'm Jane, by the way."

"Mike," he says, taking her offered hand to shake. As soon as their skin connects there's an electric thrill that shoots up his arm and then burning warmth that chases after it. He gasps quietly, inky-dark gaze flicking to her face searchingly; did she feel it too? Jane's own dark gaze locks with his, and for a long moment she seems as spellbound as he. Mike is almost a full foot taller than her, so when she murmurs, "fuck it," and throws herself up at him, he has to stoop and catch her.

Slender arms yank around his neck and she drags him down to meet halfway, and then firm lips crash against Mike's and his heart stops before lurching to life at a breakneck pace. The tingle of their hands is nothing compared to her mouth bruising his, fingers tugging on his black curls and body flush against his own. Mike drops his cup to hold her hips, resisting the urge to moan at the overwhelming sensation of this gorgeous girl kissing him and her small body held tightly against his. Aside from a few sloppy make out sessions at summer camp years ago, Mike Wheeler has never been kissed. And this girl definitely knows how to kiss - her tongue traces his lips, seeking entrance, and he can't resist letting her in.

"Let's go somewhere," she says, suddenly pulling back. Mike looks dazed as he nods. "My dad's at his girlfriends - he thinks I'm at my friend's. We could -"

"Yeah," Mike says, taking her delicate hand in his. "Let's go."

He would go to Endor if she asked him to, but fate would make it much easier on him. He is coherent enough to seek out Will in the crowd as they snail their way through the house, grinning like a dope at Will's comically round, shocked eyes. Dustin flashes him a thumbs up from the dance floor, sandwiched between two much taller girls and dancing wildly. It feels like a dream as they steal into the night, pausing every so often to kiss more and touch more and giggle, until they fall into the darkness of her home and then into her bed.

—

The next morning dawns bright and Mike wakes up confused and thoroughly disoriented. Bright sunlight spills through the window, directly onto his face, and he winces with a groan. But he's warm and otherwise comfortable, so Mike turns his face into the pillow and is greeted with the overwhelming smell of vanilla and cinnamon and smoke. He inhales and smiles softly - then frowns.

Where the hell is he?

Every muscle stiffens as he tries to take stock. Pink walls, suspiciously blank. Filmy white curtains that do nothing to keep the sun out. Most worryingly, Mike realizes he's naked, and there is another seemingly naked body wrapped around him like a barnacle. Then he remembers - Jane, spilling a drink on him. Jane, throwing herself at him and kissing him like their lives depended on it. Jane taking him to her empty house. Getting in Jane's bed after tearing each other's clothes off between hungry, wet kisses. Jane as she slid on top of him, hands braces on his chest as she straddled him... Jane's face as she shivered and shook in ecstasy.

Mike had lost his virginity. And it had been a resounding success.

He fights the smirk on his lips and lifts a hand to stroke through the crazy tangle of waves that are almost smothering him. Not only has he lost his virginity -making Will the last of their group tondo so - but he'd lost it to the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. Yeah, they were total strangers, but she was moving to Hawkins and she had no idea how big of a nerd he was. Maybe he actually had a chance...

"What time is it?" Her scratchy morning voice is even adorable. She sits up, scrubbing a hand over her face, totally oblivious to her bated breasts which are perfect and so close that Mike almost can't breathe.

"Um..." he checks his digital watch and is immediately wracked with panic. "Eight-fifty. I have to go."

"Shit!" She leaps from the bed and Mike is frozen, watching her shimmy into her tiny pink panties and throw a T-shirt on. "I'm so dead. I have to go."

"Me too." Shaking himself mentally, Mike gets dressed quickly as to avoid any embarrassment- they might've had sex, but he's never been naked in broad daylight with a girl before - and jams his feet into his three-strip Adidas sneakers, socks lost somewhere in her room which, he notices in the stark light of day, is a mess. Boxes and clothes everywhere. Books in precarious stacks on every available surface. Cassette tapes strewn across the carpet in front of her boom box.

"So, um..." Mike wants to ask for her number, some scrap of reassurance she's going to want to see him again. He awkwardly takes a hand through the crown of messy black curls on his head.

"I'll see you Monday." On tiptoes, she plants a kiss on his cheek. That devilish smile is back. "Later, Mike."

Blushing, and smiling so Big his cheeks ache, Mike echoes her. "Later."

—

"You're late," Jim says as his daughter trudges up the dewy grass in the late morning sunshine. She looks like crap - hair thrown in a messy banana clip, eye makeup hastily scrubbed off her face with traces under her sleepy brown eyes. At least she's wearing clean jeans and a soft pink sweater that warms her usually pale skin. He gives her a disappointed glare which she waves off like the smoke from his cigarette.

"Slept late. You know Max." It's the closest thing he's going to get to an apology, and Jim knows it, so he nods in acknowledgment and tosses his butt towards the designated pot on the corner of the porch. The Wheeler house is big, and as much as he dislikes the idea of moving in to the house she's bought with her ex, Jim knows that it's the smartest move. Karen has a life in Hawkins, one with friends and memories and an accumulation of things like books and furniture, and it's disrupting enough to have her kids thrown into the divorce and then their relationship. They shouldn't have to give up their home, too.

Plus, all she'd had to do was ask. Beautiful Karen, with her soft dark hair and bedroom eyes. He'd do anything she asked without hesitation.

"Now, you be nice," Jim says, and Jane rolls her eyes but nods. "Best behavior, young lady."

"Bite me," she mutters, but pasted on a big smile as he pushes open the front door and nudges her in. Immediately, Karen's youngest child, Holly, bombards them. She's eight, with bouncing blonde pigtails that had made him loose his breath the first time he saw her. Made his chest ache, it reminded him so much...

Jane freezes too, reaction identical to his own. But she recovers quickly, shaking her head but barely, not enough for anyone but him to notice.

"Are you my new sister?" Holly asks bluntly. "Because my big sister is too busy having sex to play Barbies anymore, so if you're my new sister you have to play with me."

Jane's eyebrows nearly disappear beneath her bangs and she shoots Jim an amused look over her shoulder. Holly is nothing like Sarah, and it's a definite reminder when the former opens her mouth.

"I'll play Barbies with you," Jane promises, which makes Jim smile. She had never been much for dolls, but making an effort with Holly is a step in the right direction. After the past few years with her, the ups and downs after losing Sarah and then her mother leaving, the rebellious teenage years that everyone promised would end soon enough... Jim would buy Holly buckets of Barbies if it meant his daughter would settle down and humor her.

Jim is no fool. He knows that staying at Max Mayfield's means little to no supervision, since the redhead is usually left in the company of her older brother Billy. Jim was too much like Billy in his youth to pretend not to know what that means. He probably just left the girls home alone, or at least to their own devices, while he did whatever the hell he wanted. And that was a favorable idea compared to the rest. His daughter was too pretty to trust anyone around, especially twenty-one year old punks will mullets and fast cars.

"Come on. Karen put out a nice spread," he adds, and Jane follows Holly into the dining room where Karen is just setting down a serving plate of Big, fluffy waffles. Jane's eyes go wide. They are her favorite.

"Good morning! You must be Jane," Karen says, brushing her hands over the adorable apron she wears over her dress. It's barely eleven AM but the woman looks like she stepped out of Better Homes and Garden, not a curl out of place. She extends her hand - her left, the engagement ring he'd purchased glinting on her fourth finger in the morning sunlight - and Jane shakes it politely. "I've heard so much about you!"

"You too, Mrs Wheeler," Jane says. She's pretending to be polite but Jim knows her too well. She's trying to get under Karen's skin. He'd done his best to earn the woman, and instead of any reaction she just smiles bigger and tilts her head.

"Please, call me Karen! Now, I see you've met Holly," Karen says, squeezing her daughter's shoulder. "My son should be down any minute... you kids could sleep all day long if we let you!" Her chuckle is positively musical, charming, and Jim can't wait to hear it for the rest of his life.

Jane sits down without comment, grabbing a plate and helping herself. Jim follows suit, pretending not to notice the looks of suspicion his daughter is shooting his fiancé. She's like him - always has been, since she was young - distrustful and observant, slow to accept change and grumpy. It's only gotten worse as she grew older. Sometimes, it worried him - a girl was supposed to have more than one friend, was supposed to have boys tying up the phone line, was supposed to spend hours holed up in the bathroom trying on make up or whatever. But not his Janie. She is more likely to be found hiding in her bedroom with her nose in a book, or at the arcade with Max. It was unfortunate when Max moved to Hawkins, leaving Jane friendless and desolate. Until he met Karen, and the world tilted on its axis and everything changed.

Now Jane and Max were reunited. Now Jim was in love, taking on a wonderful woman and her kids and household. It was a lot, but sometimes the pay off from the biggest risks were the best.

"Mom, I told Lucas -" Mike stumbles into the dining room, dark curls a tangle and dripping onto the collar of his polo. His mouth snaps shut when his eyes land on Jane, who has gone absolutely still as well, a mouthful of waffles bulging her cheek out.

"Michael! This is Jim's daughter, Jane. Jane, this is my son, Mike." Karen beams at the two kids, oblivious to the way they're staring at each other. Jim is a cop, and rarely what anyone could call oblivious - willfully ignorant at times, but not dumb. There's something strange about the way Mike looks at his daughter, almost like he knows her. He glares suspiciously between the two, easily slipping into chief mode.

"Nice to meet you," Jane says softly after swallowing.

Her cheeks have gone as pink as her sweater. Mike looks speechless, paler than normal making his freckles stand out in stark contrast. Something is up, Jim thinks, but for the sake of Karen who looks so pleased to have them there, the smile Jane is giving her plate, and Holly chattering happily across the table, he keeps it to himself. For now.