mike has a panic attack.
it's sudden and it's terrifying and eddie has no idea what to do. one minute they're all yelling and laughing and just playing d&d, and the next, mike is collapsing to the floor struggling to breathe. gasping out the same two names over and over again. the panic attacks eddie's had before were never, never this bad. for a fucking awful moment he thinks he's about to watch wheeler die.
lucas stays with him, crouched by his side and talking in gentle tones. murmuring words of assurance that, while good, don't seem to reach his friend. dustin had sprinted out of the room yelling into a walkie talkie as soon as mike went down, so eddie has no fucking idea what he's up to. not that he's able to focus on much other than the kid (because, god, he's so young, what the hell has happened to him?) trying and failing to just breathe.
he tries the shit that worked for him, trying to get him to breathe in time with his counts, but it's like mike's ears are full of cotton. there's not even a hint of recognition in his eyes as either him or lucas speak.
dustin returns exactly three minutes later, trailed by the last guy eddie would've ever expected to walk through the doors of hellfire club. steve harrington zeroes in on mike like a hawk, crosses the room quickly and crouches in front of him. lucas scoots away, visibly relieved to see steve, so eddie reluctantly does the same. mike's knees are to his chest and he's heaving sobs so powerful they wrack his entire body. for about thirty infuriating seconds, steve just watches.
"oh god- oh fuck- fuck- will, will-" mike is saying, through stilted breaths. "will, el- el- i can't- they're-"
"mike." steve's voice is like honey, low and soothing in a way lucas' can't be yet. mike snaps his gaze up, finally proving his ears work. "where are you right now?"
"hawkins lab-" mike chokes, and eddie just listens, dumbfounded. "hawkins- starcourt- fuck-"
"no," steve says gently. mike stares at him, slightly less glazed. "where are you?" he asks again, a little more pointed. a few seconds pass. mike's eyes dart around the room.
"hellfire." he whispers, barely audible. steve nods, asks if he can come closer, if he can touch mike. the kid nods frantically, and then his hands are being peeled from where they were curled protectively against his chest. they're placed against steve's instead, and they spend the next few minutes breathing in tandem. harrington demonstrating and mike doing his best to follow.
his breathing eventually evens out, thank god, and the heart-wrenching sobs simmer down into quiet tears. mike all but throws himself into the embrace steve offers, tucking his head under the guy's chin and seemingly making himself as small as possible.
"it's okay, you're okay." steve promises, speaking into mike's hair as he gently rocks them back and forth. "they're okay. they're just fine, both of them. you looked after them so well, bud." he keeps whispering reassurances and sweet, kind words into the little cocoon he's crafted. mike stays curled up there for a while, making a wet patch on steve's shoulder.
then finally sounding more like himself, grumbles, "just 'cos we're hugging doesn't mean i like you." after maybe four or five minutes have passed. steve just huffs a laugh, because despite his words, mike is still clutching steve's arms as he pulls back.
"of course not." steve agrees. mike smiles as his hair is carefully ruffled. turns and reaches for dustin and lucas, who waste no time in piling themselves onto their friend. steve doesn't go far though, keeping a hand in the hair at the nape of mike's neck.
it's only then that he finally makes eye contact with eddie, who's watched the whole thing go down with a sick curiosity. because... who was this guy? this was not king steve, or the asshole, cookie-cutter jock steve harrington that eddie knew of. eddie had thought dustin's nickname for him of 'number one babysitter' had been an exaggeration; that maybe he'd watched them a grand total of three times back when he and nancy wheeler dated, and dustin had developed some fixation on him.
but... no, here he was. having brought hard ass michael wheeler down from easily the worst panic attack eddie had ever seen with the ease of someone who's done it a million times. (and wasn't that a harrowing thought?)
"you mind cutting it a bit early tonight, man?" he asks, softly, and it takes eddie a second to register that he's speaking to him. "i know you've still got, like, 20 minutes, but-"
"no, no," eddie cuts him off, kind of desperate for wheeler to get home and rest. "shit, man. that was... yeah, of course, take him." steve smiles appreciatively (an annoyingly pretty expression eddie never imagined him capable of, let alone directing at him), and turns back to the kiddie hug pile.
"hey, boys? mike?" he calls, all gentle and warm. it makes eddie's heart ache; even more so when all three turn to steve with big, shiny eyes. mike's peek out from dustin's arms. "how about we head off now, and stop at that payphone on the corner of glenview on the way home? give the byers a call in california?"
mike nods, hinging on desperate. dustin and lucas give him one more good squeeze before agreeeing themselves. steve corrals them all up, bids a fucking goodnight to the present company, (plus an extra one for eddie specfically), and shuffles them out of the room. eddie, and the rest of hellfire, are left stunned in the wake of babysitter harrington.
(when mike tries to apologise the next day, eddie absolutely refuses to accept it- and, at lucas' timid request, writes the mind flayer he'd introduced out of the campaign entirely. the next session, it's like the thing never existed.)
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More possessed doll au!
Each time a bat is ready to take on a new form, they must pay a visit to the tea party. Should they be accepted, through whatever strange reasons the dolls use, they will find another figure seated at the table, dressed in full tea party doll regalia. It is up to them to modify the doll within the limits imposed, and learn its form to achieve its full potential. The Robin doll, so far, is the only one to return to the table despite being moved to a display case, and truly makes the mysterious sidekick timeless.
Despite its obviously supernatural origins, the bats have found very, very little can effect the dolls outside of physical force. They do not use wires and electricity to move or think - they cannot be hacked. They are not, to their knowledge, superseding other minds - they cannot be exorcised. They use no magics to fight crime - they cannot be traced. They have no blood to be identified, no teeth pattern to compare, no fingerprints or retina to give them away. Gas cannot affect them, hypnosis requires a brain, pain cannot override them. For all intents and purposes, the dolls are perfect for fighting crime.
So where, Bruce thinks, lying awake in bed one night after patrol, do they come from? Alfred knows nothing, neither of them found anything in the archives or library. His father grew up on the estate - surely he'd explored the caves himself at some point? The doll had been right at the well entrance - had he simply never entered that way?
After the first time meeting their doll, they do not need to touch it to transfer their consciousness again. It's a breeze through an open window, ever so slight, in the back of their minds, and one simple twist can send them spiralling into their other body.
But when Robin became Nightwing, and the child sized body was retired, it was placed in a sturdy glass display case. Jason was already making noises about joining them on the streets, but a transition had never been attempted. They assumed a third doll would become the new Robin, and the first would simply become inert.
That was not the case.
When Jason - against Bruce's decision to wait a few more months - decided to make the walk to the doll house, and deeper still to the tea party cave, he found, waiting, an untouched child sized doll. The light from his torch cast across its Victorian style waistcoat, the plumped breeches and buckled leather booties, all in the bright and bold colours of his predecessor. It sat at the right hand of the empty throne, porcelain tea cup in hand, as though left by a rich little girl called away just a moment ago to supper.
The doll had been sorted in a locked case. Glass. In full view of the main area of the batcave. With cameras. It should not have been able to be taken away without several people noticing. He had taken a different route to try and sneak past Bruce, but...
It was not the first time a doll had moved. It would not be the last.
@puppetmaster13u
@dehydratedmockingbird
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