Ṫḧë Ṡöüṅḋ öḟ Ṗëṛïḷ (M. Wheeler)

Suzie Do You Copy? (pt. ii)

That was the tone of doing the right thing.

Ugh, why did Max have to ruin everything?!

Speaking of the redhead, Max was still waiting impatiently from outside the room. A few hushed whispers and slight laughs later and he door suddenly flew open, revealing a very pissed-off looking Mike who was staring at her like she'd just told him that she'd murdered a bunch of impoverished children.

Max wasn't fazed by his look though—something much more vacant to her had caught her eye.

She looked down at his torso and frowned. "Is that Dylan's shirt?" She inquired, arching an eyebrow.

Mike returned the look, looking down at the large, black band shirt he was wearing over his jeans. Surely enough, Max realized, it was Dylan's. It had to be—the band on the shirt was the 5th Dimension; a musical group that he and Lucas bonded over. Plus, Dylan was known for only owning graphic tees.

And also, it seemed three sizes too big on Mike—so there was that as well.

Mike stared down at it before looking back at Max with his eyebrow still arched. A small smirk started to grace his features. "Oh Max," he said idly, laughing a bit. He shook his head. "It's mine now."

Max just stared plainly at him. "Yeah, well if you wore one of my shirts, I wouldn't want it back either," she muttered, not missing the way Mike rolled his eyes haughtily at her words.

"I can't see why anyone would even want to borrow your clothes," he said snidely, making Max raise her eyebrows in disbelief.

"You really wanna try and talk to me about fashion, you button-up dork?" She asked saucily.

Mike frowned. "I—"

"Children, stop fighting," Dylan rolled his eyes as he came out of his room and closed his door. He took Mike's hand within his own, leading him to the front door. "Come on."

He rolled his eyes again when he sensed Mike and Max sticking their tongues it at each other in a childish manner from behind his back. Fools—probably thought he wouldn't know.

Woe is the day when people remember that they can't keep anything from the Sense.

•••••••

"This isn't a good idea," Dylan murmured as he situated himself behind the wall of Dustin's house beside Mike.

His boyfriend looked up at him curiously. "You don't think welcoming him back is a good idea?" He asked him.

"No, I don't think surprising him is a good idea," Dylan corrected, looking at his little birthday party horn with disdain. What even was the point of these things, other than to cause morbid pain to one's eardrums—well in his case that is, and in Dustin's, most likely a heart attack.

Mike tilted his head. "Why?"

Dylan gave him a look of disbelief. "Dustin. Our friend. The hyperactive spaz of a friend," he deadpanned, "you really think this shit won't blow out of proportion?"

Seriously, he could sense how much of a disaster this was gonna be from the minute the Party had suggested the idea. He loved Dustin and had missed him a lot from his time at summer camp, but the plan was—well, awful.

Will had been able to convince Hopper to let El out of the house for once to be able to greet Dustin home. She was also a major part of their plan; she was tasked with leading the male out of his room by telekinetically controlling his weird nerd toys—collectibles, sorry; he'd gotten too much shit from the Party for the mistake of calling them 'toys' in the past, despite that being exactly what they were—to slowly lure him to the living room where they'd be able to surprise him and welcome him home, as they all knew, from who they were purposefully ignoring his calls, that he wasn't gonna be expecting them.