based on this concept of steve and mike coming out to each other
🤍 also on ao3
The sun is setting in beautiful hues of pink and purple, tinging the town of Hawkins, Indiana, in a light of serenity and beauty it doesn’t really deserve. Steve’s hands are gripped tight around the steering wheel as he carefully scans the road and the houses he passes.
He almost misses the bike where it’s lying on the curb, carelessly discarded by the looks of it, and a tinge of worry shadows his frown. Worry that doesn’t quite dissipate when he spots the figure sitting on the roof, almost black against the lilac colour of the sky, but he breathes a sigh of relief. He considers grabbing the radio to let the others know he found Mike, but decides against it. Something tells him that maybe they’ll take a while. Something tells him there’s more to Will’s stunned silence and Mike’s sudden departure from where they were all hanging out at Steve’s after another successful Hellfire session.
With a sigh, Steve cuts the engine and gets out of the car, keeping his eyes on Mike the whole time — ready for him to take off again, ready to go sit a while and wait for him to come back. But Mike doesn’t move, even after he shuts the door and approaches the Wheelers’ house. He doesn’t acknowledge Steve when he pulls himself up to the roof, easier this time than the first time he did this.
There’s a snide comment in the air between them, a version of Mike that would have lashed out at him, made fun of and insulted him. But this one just sits there, hands in his lap, frown on his face, and stares ahead.
“What do you want,” he asks eventually, though it doesn’t have the kind of heat that Steve expects. He barely even sounds like a teenager. Just sort of… dejected. Steve aches for him; just a little bit.
“Just making sure you’re alright,” Steve says, shrugging, looking ahead as well so Mike doesn’t feel watched. Or seen, maybe.
Because the thing is, Steve does see him. He sees the way he looks at Will sometimes, and the way his eyes fill with something that can only be described as yearning, or aching, followed by regret and fear. Which always, always turn into anger. Into frustration. Into snide comments and rolled eyes and walls that keep getting an inch added to them each day. It’s never directed at Will, that anger, and rarely at the rest of the Party, but Steve still sees it. Gets the worst of it and takes it, because he knows something about how that feels.
He knows something about looking at someone like that, about feeling that fear, that regret, that worry that come with it. He knows something about never really daring to meet someone’s eyes for fear of what they would see.
“I’m alright,” Mike says, sounding anything but. There’s a bitterness in his voice. Frustration in the way his thumb is picking at the skin of his fingers. Confusion in the tension of his shoulders, and Steve feels like he only needs to make one wrong move, say one wrong word, make a single sound that’s off key to the melody of this moment, and Mike will jump off the roof and take off again with his bike.
So all he says, after a moment’s consideration, is, “Cool.” Like he believes him. Giving Mike room to breathe, room to pretend. He knows something about that, too.
He knows and he sees and he feels.
And suddenly he wants to say something he’s never said before, something he didn’t even get to tell Robin because she knew and saw and felt, too, taking something from him that he hasn’t yet been ready to reclaim for himself.
And maybe it’s because he sees something of himself in the way Mike holds himself, in the way he snaps at anyone willing to listen, in the way he frowns in regret and barely meets anyone’s eyes except when it’s in challenge — and, most of all, in the way he never, never meets Will’s eyes. In the way he looks away when the other boy turns to him, and in the way his eyes will snap back and take in everything about his best friend when he’s not aware of it.
Maybe it’s because the sky is pink and lilac and purple above them, allowing for a certain magic to happen, allowing for a bravery that doesn’t come easy to him; but as he sits on the roof next to Mike Wheeler, the only one of the Party he never really connected with, he closes his eyes against the breeze that catches in his hair and opens his jacket a little further, slithering beneath the fabric as if in a brief embrace, a nudge, a sign to take this leap, and takes a deep breath.
His heart is picking up its pace inside his chest, taking this leap along wit him, and pulls up one of his legs to wrap his hands around it — just to have something to hold onto.
He opens his mouth once, twice, three times, but the words never really come out. They don’t know how, and he’s beginning to tremble a little with it, tension building in his chest where the words are still locked away, hidden among layers of truth.
Mike looks over with a frown and eyes him warily. It makes Steve want to laugh, this sudden change of pace, but he just keeps staring ahead; even when Mike asks, “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” Steve says. And then then dam is broken and breaking further, and with another deep breath, still not meeting Mike’s eyes, instead focusing on the tree tops in the distance that shine in hues of purple, he finally says, “I’m kind of dating Eddie Munson.”
And just like that, it’s out. He’s out.
He doesn’t know if the world still spins, if time still passes, if he still breathes, because for a moment there is only silence. Mike stops picking at the skin of his fingers, Steve stops trembling, and neither of them moves.
It’s both anticlimactic and momentous, this silence between them when their eyes meet. When the words unfold and grow wings, when Mike understands, his eyes growing big with something that Steve can’t quite read with how tense he is despite his best efforts.
The silence stretches between them, surpassing comfort and overstaying its welcome, and suddenly it’s Steve who feels like he’s about to take off if Mike so much as twitches his brows.
“You… What?”
Forget it, Steve wants to say. Nothing.
But also, I’m in love with Eddie Munson. And I used to be in love with Nancy. And that’s okay. Both of that, it’s okay.
He ends up repeating his words, though, because they know what it’s like to be spoken now. “Eddie. I’m kind of dating Eddie.”
“But…” It’s Mike now whose mouth is opening and closing without saying anything. Mike who’s blinking, trembling a little, twitching, picking at his skin again, moving further along his hand this time to pinch the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Steve almost reaches out to stop him, but he doesn’t really dare to.
“But?” he prompts after a while, not quite comfortable with this loaded kind of silence.
“Eddie’s a boy.”
But Tammy Thompson is a girl.
“I know,” Steve says, his tone carefully neutral, wanting to see, to wait where Mike takes this, to hear what’s on his mind, to watch the wheels turn and the gears shift. He feels awfully raw and open, vulnerable with someone who hasn’t been treating that with care yet. But there’s something about this moment that feels bigger than his own fears, bigger than the light nausea settling in his gut; far more important than the way he wants to run and hide, away from the scrutiny.
“And…” Mike continues, still battling the words inside his head. Steve wonders if there are too many or none at all. “But you… You loved Nancy.”
Ah. Smart boy. “I did,” Steve says with a small smile. “And it was never a lie. But I found that… Yeah, I can kinda like boys, too, y’know? And that’s, like, okay.”
A beat. A frown. A confused, hopeful, small, “It is?”
Steve just nods, smiling in reassurance and relief at equal measures. Silence settles once more, now that the sky has darkened into a deeper, darker blue; but it’s not as loaded this time, not as tense. It’s an invitation. An offering. A promise of I’m here, I’m with you, you can take as long as you need. To get down from the roof, to come back, to come out of wherever you think you need to hide from the world.
Mike takes it. He stays, pulling up his leg, too, mirroring Steve’s pose and staring ahead, but not as far away. He seems alert, seems to be thinking rather than dwelling, seems to be gearing up for something. Steve watches and sees and knows, remaining patient beside him, his chin resting on his knee as Mike learns to deal with this new world that has been presented to him. This new world that comes with opportunities and chances and possibilities that are scary and big and difficult to make.
“Y’know,” Mike starts at last, interrupting the silence, playing with it, his voice hushed and quiet to keep it from disappearing completely. “Lucas, when he had that championship game? He told us, Dustin and me, that we didn’t have to be the losers this time. The nerds. The outcasts. Different. And all I wanted was to scream at him, because…”
Mike swallows his words, keeping them from tumbling out of his mouth, and Steve aches for him again. He wants to reach out, wants to say it’s okay, tell him it’s alright, to take his time. But he waits in silence, lets Mike find the bravery he needs on his own, and waits.
“Because how could he say that, you know? How could he, when… Will wasn’t there. And all I did, all I ever did anymore, was miss him. And I loved El, I knew I did. And she was gone, too, but…”
He trails off again, and this time Steve picks it up. To let him know he’s not alone. To let Mike know he understands what he’s saying. He understands. “But she’s not Will. You needed Will.”
“But I shouldn’t!” Mike explodes suddenly, riled up because Steve adds fuel to the fire, because Steve has that same fire, too; and because they are so, so similar when they want to be. “And now he’s back and it should be fine, I shouldn’t be feeling like this, it doesn’t even make sense! How can I…”
Steve looks at him, at his expression that is nothing but lost — completely and utterly. He’s seen it on the bathroom floor at the mall; high out of his mind as he was, he’ll never forget the way Robin looked at him, the sheer crestfallen expression. All that confusion, all that fear and frustration and, in the end, resignation. He’s seen it in the mirror, and he’s seen it in those pretty brown eyes that he just can’t get out of his head anymore.
He offers, gently, “How can you need him when he’s right there? How can you love him when a year ago you loved El?”
And Mike just looks at him before he deflates completely, his shoulders falling along with his face. He nods. Shrugs. Looks away and hides his face behind his leg.
Steve sighs softly, watching the boy and speaking the words he wants to say the sixteen year-old version of himself. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully. “I really don’t, and it sucks sometimes, having this need to, like, decide. Or understand. Or stop and be like the rest of them.” Like Robin and Eddie, or like the rest of the world. “But I like to think, sometimes, that maybe it’s a good thing. That there’s just… I don’t know, it sounds corny as hell, but like, there’s just so much love to give, we can’t even stick to only boys or girls, y’know.”
“That does sound real corny as fuck, man,” Mike says, and back is that long suffering tone of his, back is that eye roll and the twitching elbow, ready to nudge Steve in the side. It’s still tinged with that vulnerability, not quite Mike yet, but it’s an offering.
One of many tonight, it seems.
Steve grins, a bit lopsided and raw, shoving Mike gently as he remembers something he overheard once. “Sorry, mister Heart of our group, but I don’t think you have any leg to stand on here.”
That makes Mike freeze, though, and he stares at Steve wide-eyed; caught. Exposed. Reminded.
“What did you say?”
“Uh,” Steve falters, not sure where he went wrong — or if he went wrong at all. “I overheard Will calling you that, talking about you to, uhm. Someone. I don’t know. Why, what’s— What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Mike says, way too quickly, pulling away again with everything he has, hiding behind those walls once more, and Steve feels whiplash from it.
“Mike,” he says, his voice quiet and gentle as he turns to face him completely.
“No.”
“It’s okay,” Steve says. Promises, as much as he can.
“Shut up!”
“You’re not wrong or bad or broken. It’s okay, you’re okay.”
“I said, shut up, Steve.”
“You should see the way he looks at you, too. You should go talk to him. You—“
Mike lashes out, finally coming out from behind those walls again, only to shove at Steve, to push him away — hard enough for him to lose his balance and almost fall off the roof, clenching one hand on the edge, the other in the rainwater gutter with a bitten-off curse.
“Shit, I’m sorry!” Mike reaches for him immediately, snapping out of whatever anger Steve caused, and pulling him back until he’s safe again, apologising over and over, dead to Steve’s promises that it’s alright. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, Steve, I’m so—“
He pulls Mike against his chest, finally reaching out to hold the boy who always pushes people away when they get too close — quite literally, too.
But he doesn’t shove this time, doesn’t move out of Steve’s grasp as the mumbled apologies become heaving sobs.
“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re so okay, Mike,” Steve tells him over and over as he holds him. The sky above is almost black now and Steve lets Mike cry into his chest.
It takes a while for Mike to calm down, but Steve just holds him through it, ready to let go whenever Mike wants to pull back and snap out of it again — but he never does, and Steve feels a certain kind of affection for the boy that is usually reserved for Lucas or Dustin.
At last, when he’s calmed down, Mike pulls back a little. “Do you really… Does it… Is it really okay?”
Can it be okay? Can I really like both? Is that not just me, being broken and wrong and bad? Will I get the chance to not be alone?
Steve swallows hard, and his voice is hoarse when he says, “Yeah. It’s really okay. ‘N’ I’m with you, yeah? If someone gives you shit for it. Or if you need a reminder.”
And Mike — puffy eyed, snotty nosed, so, so young — looks at him with those trusting eyes and nods, like he believes Steve. Like he trusts him. Like he hopes.
“Just don’t fucking shove me off your roof again.”
Ans just like that, the spell is broken, the tension is lifted, and silence has left them, as Mike almost chokes on a laugh and shoves at him again, lightly this time, before jumping off the roof so Steve can’t retaliate.
“Asshole,” he mutters, shaking his head as he, too, jumps off the roof, dusting off his pants as he watches Mike grabbing his bike. “Hey, Micycle,” he calls, cackling when Mike flips him the bird. “You want a ride back?”
Mike stops, considering as Steve casually flicks his keys into the air and catches them expertly. “What kinda music do you got?”
“The Clash, ‘cause Eddie hates them.”
“Yeah, that’s because they suck!”
Steve snorts, opening the driver’s side door. “Y’know, they’re one of Will’s favourites, actually.”
He watches Mike freeze with a grin on his face, knowing there’s no way the boy would take the bike.
“You’re so annoying,” Mike sighs as he brings his bike close to the garage and carefully lays it on the grass this time before hurrying over to Steve, getting in on the front, rolling his eyes when Steve cackles. “I don’t know why Eddie would date you—“
His words are drowned out when Steve turns up Train in Vain, drumming along on the steering wheel with a shit eating grin. Though the atmosphere is wildly different now, the spell broken and the bubble burst, it’s undeniable that something happened between them. Something big, something important.
Something that makes Mike’s annoyed, long-suffering expression be broken by the smile he’s trying to hide. It makes Steve laugh, elated and feeling something that’s much, much bigger than he himself ever could be.
It’s going to be okay. So, so okay.
Before they know it, they’re pulling up to Steve’s and he turns off the car, is about to get out when Mike makes him still again.
“Hey, Steve?”
“Hm?”
“I think it’s cool. You and Eddie.”
He smiles, relief and fondness washing over him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.” He reaches over and ruffles Mike’s hair — a wild mane these days, but they could make it work with some care and some products. “Now go get your man, lover boy.”
“God, you suck so much, you’re so annoying!”
Steve’s cackling again when the passenger door slams shut and Mike lets himself into his house.
He spots a figure in the dark, their face lighting up when they take a drag of a cigarette — and Steve’s heart stumbles in his chest. He scrambles to get out, attempting to look calm and collected, even though Eddie always manages to see right through him.
“Hello, stranger,” he says, leaning against the wall beside Eddie, hiding away in the dark, where the world won’t see their shoulders touch, or their fingers tentatively playing with each other before they can’t take it no longer and lace their hands, holding on tight.
“Hi,” Eddie breathes. “How’d it go?”
“Fine, I think. But, uhm… I told him. About me. About us. That, uh. That okay?”
Even in the dark, Steve can feel eyes on him, but he just stares ahead, opting instead to give his warm hand a squeeze. He smiles when Eddie’s thumb begins to draw patterns on his palm.
“Hmm. Very. You think they’ll be okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve breathes, stealing Eddie’s cigarette from his mouth and pulling it between his own lips. “Yeah, I think they will be.”
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I saw your toph+katara gender post and honestly... thank you for being one of few ppl i've seen who actually do a deeper analysis of toph? Most people tend to just go "i love toph she's cool <3" and while that's fine, its so nice to actually see someone Get Her. Esp wrt her gender expression and relationship to femininity. She's always been v imporant to me, like when i was like 12 i used to watch youtube clips of the toph+katara spa day scene on repeat and have Feelings abt it (still think its a super interesting scene??). Imo, while a lot of her expression is def rebelling (+overcompensating) and doing the oposite of her feminine upbringing, a lot of it is also a genuine JOY at being covered in dirt/burping/being loud and crass and tough? Idk i just feel like a lot of her contemporary "tomboy" characters were more defined as "ugh i hate Skirts and Dresses", but tophs brand of gnc joy and complex relationship w femininity always hit closer For Me? Like. She's loud and crass and rude and badass and cool, she does find it fun to dress girly but as like an Activity with a buddy, she's overjoyed at being portrayed as a big buff dude ("that's exactly how i would cast it!"), she's actually very spiritual and perceptive when not in Loud Mode, she keeps her fancy hairstyle but adds messy bangs, idk she's just. Character of all time. I'd love to hear if you have more thoughts on toph+gender (or just toph in general), and thank you for actually Understanding Her <33
YES!!!!! i have so many thoughts and feelings on toph. she is one of my absolute favorite characters i truly love her so much, and like you said, i hate when people dismiss her even as they claim to love her. "she's so badass" like okay, and?
toph is also just very important to me as her disability informs so much of her arc. and that disability is also inextricable from her gender and her family and all the factors that shape who she is, her strengths and her insecurities. you cannot separate her parents' abuse from her gender, class, or blindness. it's the combination of being an aristocratic blind girl that informs who she is and how she's perceived, especially by her family. she's an only child in a family that would clearly desire at least one son, and you cannot help but wonder whether they stopped at one for eugenicist purposes, whether they couldn't bear the "pain" of risking having another disabled child. and also because they clearly consider having a blind child such a handful that any other child would draw their attention away from her dire, pressing needs. so they completely smother her, but they also dismiss her, trivialize her desires and ignore her feelings and treat her more like a fragile porcelain doll than a person.
it's why, by the time of "the chase," she gets inordinately defensive over katara's suggestion that she pitch in when setting up camp. i see a lot of people claim that toph in this episode is acting like a spoiled brat who refuses to do manual labor because she's too wealthy to understand, but that's not actually the case. toph is fine with doing manual labor (she literally spent who knows how long working in an underground wrestling ring, she's not unaccustomed to work), but she's averse to helping others. as she says, "i carry my own weight." she's establishing, erroneously but understandably, that her idea of affording others respect is assuming that everyone behaves on an individual basis. she's never had friends before, by her own admission, and so in her mind, the only model she's ever seen for "helping others" is smothering them, denying their agency, and deciding everything for them.
toph thinks that katara is a bitch because katara is suggesting that toph meddle in other people's affairs, instead of respecting their own business. and katara thinks that toph is a bitch because she does just straight up assume that toph is a spoiled brat who doesn't understand the value of community. and while toph isn't a spoiled brat, learning the value of community is indeed integral to her arc. and more than simply communal values of helping and sharing with others, she also learns to rely on them in turn. she learns how to embrace her vulnerability, and let others carry her weight for her. her apotheosis in the finale is literally hanging onto sokka, who is holding her entire weight with one hand, for dear life. putting her complete faith in him to carry her and protect her as he always does.
that ability to embrace her vulnerability among the people she actually trusts to not only love and support her, but also to recognize her as a human being and care about her as a a peer, is so crucial to her identity as someone who has learned from years of ableist stigma to put walls up and present herself as someone uniquely powerful and invulnerable. and it's not that she isn't uniquely powerful, but her strength is also largely a projection. it's why she's so delighted to be portrayed by a big buff man, because that's the kind of person she wishes she could be, so that she wouldn't have to be underestimated and belittled and oppressed by people who dismiss her and coddle her and disrespect her and, quite literally, put her in a box.
so if toph's experience with disability is informed by her class and her upbringing, then let's now turn to her experience with gender, which is equally informed by her background. katara often balks at toph's less feminine presentation, because despite her incredibly righteous crusade against limiting patriarchal standards, she nonetheless has her own hangups when it comes to gender. but then again, so does toph. just as katara disdains toph's masculinity, toph finds katara's femininity offensive because her only real model for femininity in her experience is that of aristocratic wifehood. poppy beifong, to be exact, who is not exactly a girlboss (let alone a revolutionary, like katara is). and when katara tries to shove toph back into a box, toph resists because of course she does, that's who she is. she's not going take what she experiences as violent repression lying down.
toph is wrong in "the runaway" to exclude katara from their fun, and she is wrong to call compare her to a mother, but it's not out of nowhere. there is an obvious precedent to these actions. katara is a genuinely feminine girl who loves to boss people around and dictate how they should live their lives. to toph, this is the most egregious sin imaginable. katara, through her femininity and authoritative attitude, is positioning herself, in toph's eyes, as her mother. and toph calls her out for being overbearing and claims that katara hates fun and wants to boss everyone around for this reason, even though sokka is obviously the primary fun-hating, overbearing member of the group.
however, sokka never dictates how toph should act or dress, sokka never made fun of toph for being blind (which is a thing that really deserves its own post, if we're being honest). sokka makes them spend their vacation time at the library and enforces his color-coded schedules on them and generally brings down the vibe what with his neuroticism and severity, but he also laughs at toph's jokes and banters with her in a way that treats her as a friend and not as a rival. and unlike katara, whose desires and commands seem completely arbitrary to toph, sokka's commands are grounded in a logic that toph can understand. so even if from an outside perspective, toph's claim that a revolutionary teenage girl who loves to cause trouble and seeks adventure and joy around every corner is trying to be the overbearing mom of the group makes no sense, it makes perfect sense to toph, based on her history with femininity, overbearing mothers, and feminine overbearing mothers.
toph presents masculinely as compensation, as a way to make herself seem strong and tough instead of dainty and submissive as she was always made out to be. she associates masculinity with strength and femininity with weakness because that's the paradigm she grew up in. it's why she's always teasing aang about his supposed femininity and calling him "twinkle toes" (which, as sokka points out, isn't manly). in their first interaction, aang beat her in a fight and humiliated her in front of all her adoring fans, and avatar or not, toph's gonna make him pay for that by undermining him in turn, by using his presentation as a monk to mock him. even if aang isn't gay or even gender non-conforming (within the assumptions of his own culture), toph is still employing the logic of sexism/homophobia to undermine aang when she makes jokes about him being "more in touch with [his] feminine side than most guys." and of course, the nickname "twinkle toes" is also deeply affectionate, and aang (bless his heart) never actually takes offense to it. but toph is trying to establish herself as more powerful than him due to the humiliating knowledge that he could beat her in a fight, easily.
toph's masculinity is inextricably tied to her invulnerability. she wants to be taken seriously and treated as a human being, which is respect that has been denied to her due to her status as a blind girl, save for her blind bandit persona, which superficially empowered her and made her feel strong. it's not coincidence that her rival earthbender is a guy who is essentially a parody of masculinity. toph wants to position herself as equivalent, if not directly superior, to the Most Masculine Man, because that's how she'll be afforded respect, in her mind. but she is a girl. and there's a part of her that likes being a girl, and wishes she could explore her femininity more than she's allowed herself to, beyond the confines of the beifong mansion. she keeps her hair long because she still loves her family and holds out hope that maybe one day they can accept her (she comes from a culture modeled off of tang dynasty china, so her long hair is likely a product of her adherence to confucian values). and once she embraces it, she genuinely does get into being made over at the fancy lady day spa.
femininity has been a genuinely harmful and repressive agent in toph's life, and it's understandable that she would internalize some misogynistic notions surrounding girl/womanhood as they were foisted onto her her entire childhood. but femininity isn't ontologically harmful. femininity isn't ontological, period. i think as toph gets older, and her friendship with katara grows deeper as they both come to be more honest with each other, she would grow to embrace her masculinity in a more organic and less compensatory way. less of a "i'm not like other girls" complex (which itself is not something that girls should be mocked and punished for, but rather a product of a patriarchal system that oppresses and alienates women, thus leading many less gender-conforming girls to attempt to assert their agency and individuality in any way they can, even if it means putting down others in the process), and more so genuinely coming to embrace her butchness. (you don't necessarily have to read her as a baby butch, of course, but considering that being a masculine girl is important to her, i think that's a really lovely and beautiful synthesis of her relationship to gender as a character.)
i think toph would learn stop pitting masculinity and femininity against each other, and instead embrace whatever aspects of either (or neither) she desires, while nonetheless respecting everyone else's deal in turn. i think she would also, in a key turning point, realize that even if she loves her parents, she doesn't have any obligation to be the daughter they expect her to be, and cuts her hair. and as she grows more secure in herself (which comes with age, no twelve year old is truly confident in their own skin), she would stop feeling the need to put other people down to feel big, and be comfortable embracing her desires. and, credit to her, she's clearly already on her way. the progress she makes being vulnerable, especially around sokka, even in what is chronologically a matter of months, is huge.
toph isn't just "badass" because she's strong and powerful. but rather, what makes her so powerful, at least to disabled viewers who see their struggles reflected in hers, is her ability to grow with her environment, allowing herself to admit help, and letting herself be loved. if you couldn't already tell, toph is incredibly important to me.
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