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Will Byers had brought doughnuts for breakfast, the bakery box already half-collapsed like it’d survived a bike ride through Hawkins.
Sam was halfway through a maple bar, frosting on either side of his face, washing it down with a mug of cocoa.
It was freezing outside, so at least that part made sense.
His dads - Mike Wheeler and Will Byers - sat across from him, close enough that their shoulders were basically touching.
Mike had his usual black coffee, untouched because he kept getting distracted talking, while Will unwrapped a protein bar he’d grabbed in a hurry.
Mike nudged him with his elbow anyway, murmuring something about how he should’ve just taken a doughnut, too, and Will smiled like he was used to that by now.
“Dad,” Sam said, distractedly swiping frosting off his cheek with the sleeve of his pajama shirt.
Both Mike and Will looked up at the same time.
“Which one?” Will asked, voice quiet but amused.
“Both of you,” Sam said. He was six now. Taller, louder, very convinced he could do things by himself.
But to them, he was still their baby.
Mike’s expression softened immediately. “Yeah, bud? What’s up?”
Sam shifted in his seat. “Can you teach me how to ride a bike?”
Mike and Will shared a look. Already?? They hadn’t really thought Sam was interested in bikes.
He usually preferred staying inside, lining up his toy cars or steering that toy glider Grandma Joyce had given him last Christmas.
Still… if he was asking now, then maybe now was the time.
“Yeah,” Will said after a second, voice careful in that way it got when he was trying not to worry too much.
“We can do that. But you’ve gotta promise to be careful, okay?” He reached over without thinking and laced his fingers through Sam’s.
Sam’s face lit up. “Okay, Daddy.”
After breakfast, Mike and Will headed outside, where Mike’s old bike leaned against the side of the RV.
Living proof that without their bikes, Will probably wouldn’t’ve been here at all. For years, that had been their transportation.
Pedals and scraped knees and late rides home.
And now they were handing it down to their kid.
Mike crouched in front of it, eyeing the chipped paint and the wheels that had definitely seen better days.
He’d fixed the chain a few years back, before Sam was born, thinking maybe one of Holly’s friends would want it.
They never did.
Long story short, it’d been sitting here ever since, waiting.
“You got one more fight left in you, old pal?” Mike muttered, giving the tire an experimental spin.
Will knelt beside him, immediately frowning. “Are you sure this is safe for Sam?” he asked, glancing between the bike and Mike. “I mean… it’s pretty beat up.”
Mike studied it for another second. It’d been solid the last time he rode it, which had to count for something.
He shrugged. “He’ll probably be fine.” Then, grinning, he added, “You can give me a wet kiss if I’m wrong.”
Will scoffed. “You just want an excuse to kiss.”
Mike tipped his head back, cheeks warming. “Maybeee…”
Will leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to Mike’s mouth.
Mike made a small, pleased sound anyway, fingers catching briefly at the collar of Will’s sweater as he leaned in for another.
They stayed there for a moment, close and familiar, before Mike pulled back, clearly satisfied.
Will smiled and reached up, cupping Mike’s cheek with his warm, soft palm.
“You’re pretty,” he said, like it was just a simple fact.
Mike grinned and leaned into the touch. “You’re prettier.”
Out in the RV park - tucked back in the wooded stretch near the restrooms - Mike and Will bundled Sam up in his coat and brought him over to meet the bike.
Mike stood beside it, one hand resting on the handlebar.
“This,” he said, a little proud despite himself, “is my bike. Never had an official name, but it carried two people at once.”
“Simultaneously,” Will added automatically.
Sam tilted his head. “Who did it carry?”
Mike hesitated, just for a second. “Me and Jane,” he said.
The air went quiet. Mike and Will exchanged a look.
Will’s soft, understanding; Mike’s heavier.
Jane had been his best friend for so long.
He’d taken care of her, talked to her about everything, even when she didn’t always have the words back.
She’d been an important part of his life. A good part.
Will shifted closer, his shoulder brushing Mike’s.
Mike shook himself out of it fast. “Okay,” he said, clapping his hands once. “Let’s get you on this thing, yeah?”
Sam waited patiently while Mike stepped forward and lifted him under the arms, setting him carefully onto the bike seat.
Will moved in right away, placing the helmet on Sam’s head and adjusting it until it sat just right.
He clipped the strap under Sam’s chin with a small nod.
“Safety first,” he said gently. “Always.”
“Okay,” Will continued, crouching so he was eye-level with Sam, “the most important thing is balance. You’re gonna wobble a little, and that’s okay.”
Mike pointed at the pedals. “And you gotta keep pedaling,” he added.
“If you pedal backwards, that’s the brakes, so you’ll stop.” He paused, then clarified, “Which is good. Stopping is good. If you need to stop, use the brakes. On purpose.”
Sam nodded. “Okay, Daddies! Can I go now?”
“Hold on, bug -” Will said quickly as Sam set his feet on the pedals. “We’re gonna guide you first, okay? Just to make sure you get the hang of it.”
Sam’s shoulders drooped a little. “Okay…”
“C’mon, Will,” Mike said, glancing between them. “He’s got this.” Then, to Sam, grinning, “You know what you’re doing, right, sprout?”
Sam nodded hard enough his helmet wobbled.
Will sighed, already losing.
“Just let him try,” Mike added lightly. “And if something goes wrong,” he gestured between them, “he’s got us.”
“Mike, I really don’t think—”
Too late. Sam was already pedaling, wobbling forward in a way that was only technically riding.
“Hey!” Mike laughed, half-shocked, half-proud. “Look at that! That’s my kid!”
Will’s head snapped up. “…Oh no.” He squinted ahead, then grabbed Mike’s sleeve. “There’s a fucking downhill right there, Mike,” he hissed.
“What?” Mike bent down, the difference in their heights making it hard to hear Will over Sam’s pedaling.
“Mike—!”
The sound came first.
A sharp clatter as the front wheel caught on a rock, the bike jerking sideways.
Sam yelped, and then he was down. The bike skidded past him instead of on top of him, thank God.
Mike froze for half a second, stomach dropping out from under him.
“Mike!” Will shoved his shoulder, already moving.
Will was at Sam immediately, dropping to his knees in the dirt.
“Sammy - hey, hey.” His hands hovered for a moment, afraid to touch the wrong place. “Look at me, baby. Are you okay? Did you get hurt?”
Sam’s face crumpled, shock giving way all at once, and the whimper turned into a full, broken cry.
Mike snapped out of it and rushed over, kneeling on Sam’s other side.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said quickly, voice tight but soft, almost sounding like the tone of voice he used specifically for Will. “You’re okay. We’ve gotcha. Daddy’s here.”
Will pulled Sam carefully into his chest, holding him. “You’re safe,” he murmured over and over, even as his own hands shook.
“God, Mike - I told you we should’ve guided him first,” Will whispered sharply, not taking his eyes off Sam.
Mike barely seemed to hear him. He was rubbing slow circles into Sam’s back, grounding more than soothing. “Hey, hey,” he said quietly. “Where does it hurt, baby?”
Sam mumbled something into Will’s chest, words lost to hiccups and tears.
Will swallowed and tried again, gentler this time. “Sammy. Tell me where it hurts.”
“MY KNEES!” Sam cried, frustration breaking through the sobs.
“Okay, okay,” Mike said quickly, already nodding. “That’s okay. Knees we can fix.”
He brushed Sam’s hair back once. “I’m gonna grab the first-aid kit, alright? You stay right here with Daddy.”
Sam didn’t answer, just clutched tighter at Will’s sweater.
Will held him close anyway, rocking slightly, eyes following Mike as he hurried off.
Mike came back quickly, first-aid kit in hand.
He dropped to one knee beside Sam, careful not to loom too much.
“Sammy,” he said softly, “can you turn around and show me your knees?”
Sam shook his head so fast it was obvious he was scared. Will looked down at him, then back at Mike. “He doesn’t want you to put the spray on,” he said gently.
Mike crouched a little lower, keeping his voice calm.
“I know, buddy. But the spray’s gonna help. It might sting for a second, but then your knees will feel better. I promise.”
Sam hesitated, sniffled, then slowly - on his own terms - turned to face Mike.
He lifted his thick pants just enough to show two red, scraped knees.
Nothing serious. A couple of bandages would fix it right up.
“Alright,” Mike murmured, picking up the spray. He sprayed one knee, then the other, moving slowly and letting Sam flinch if he needed.
When he was done, he smiled. “See? Not so bad.”
Sam’s big eyes blinked up at him, tears still shimmering. His lip wobbled, but he shook his head.
Will wrapped an arm around him, squeezing just a little. “See? Told you, you’re okay.”
Mike gently pressed the bandage over Sam’s scraped knee, then leaned down and planted a quick kiss on each one. “There you go,” he said softly, grinning. “All better.”
Sam tugged his pants back down and looked at the bike.
He couldn’t get the words out (his throat was still tight from crying) but he pointed at the bike and gave them the most irresistible puppy eyes he could muster.
Will inwardly groaned at Mike. Really? You passed this on too? he thought, exasperated by how manipulative and cute Sam could be at the same time.
“You wanna try again, bug?” he asked, guessing exactly what Sam meant.
Sam nodded eagerly.
Mike and Will exchanged a glance, then both nodded.
“Okay,” Mike said with a small grin. “But this time, we guide you first. Make sure you’re doing everything right.”
Sam’s response was a little smile - tiny, victorious - and Will’s heart nearly melted.
He looked so much like Mike in that moment, the same determined, scrappy expression.
God, he was their little boy, through and through.
The next attempt, Mike was behind Sam, hands steady on the back of the bike. “Pedaling forward?”
“Yeah!” Sam chirped, wobbling slightly but gripping the handlebars with determination.
“Do you know how to use the brakes?” Mike asked.
“Yeah!”
“And if anything goes wrong, hit the brakes and call for help, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy!” Sam squealed, excitement making him nearly bounce on the seat. Will stood a few feet away, a gentle, proud smile on his face.
“Alright, on your marks,” Mike said, steering them away from the downhill toward a smoother path. “Get set… GO!”
Mike let go. Sam wobbled at first, tilted precariously, but quickly righted himself.
Pedaling. Actually moving forward.
“You’re doing it! Yeah!” Mike yelled, jumping up and down like a little kid himself.
Will’s chest swelled with pride as he watched, watching their baby learn to ride.
“I’m doing it! I’m actually doing it!” Sam shouted, wind whipping his hair back.
Will walked quickly to Mike’s side, leaning his head against Mike’s shoulder. Mike turned gently to face him, one hand resting on Will’s hip. “What a beautiful boy we have,” he murmured.
Will nodded, voice quiet and full of feeling.
Mike pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Together, they watched Sam pedal, steady and free, across the path.
Darling Sam, they thought. Our little boy.