Trust Me [Byler Stranger Things Fanfiction]

it's hard not to notice

Ted Wheeler wondered if there was a word more descriptive than stressed to describe his mood this past month. He knew that there probably was a word that existed, but he was too damn stressed to dwell on it for long.

Work was a mess. Ted was an accountant, but the company he worked for wasn't as wealthy as it had once been. While others were advancing their accounting departments with new IBM-PCs, with the fancy word processing and spreadsheet applications, he still had to file everything by hand. His fingers were constantly cramped and his arms ached, years upon years of his profession weighing down on his body.

It didn't help that the rest of the department was full of idiots, either. The new guy was complaining about how he had paper cuts littering his hands all the time, the older guy was lagging behind on his work in favor of doodling on his papers instead, and Ted had to pick up all the extra work from his coworkers.

Yeah, he'd have to find a word for stressed later.

Ted figured that as he sat down in his worn out recliner after dinner, he deserved a drink to loosen up his tense muscles. A beer was all he could find in the kitchen fridge after a quick scan of its contents, but it would suffice.

A beer had turned into a couple more being opened after the other was drained, along with a glass of wine from a bottle he'd spotted in passing that sat chilling in their wine cooler.

Needless to say, Ted was a little more than just tipsy. It was the first time in a very long time that he'd felt such warmth traveling through his veins, even if his vision was blurring and his mind was all jumbled. Ted's limbs melted into his recliner, settling deep into the comfortable cushions and relishing in the buzz of his skin.

He felt alive even if he was just sitting down, opposite from the soul sucking desk job he'd roped himself into a very long time ago.

Going to bed was probably the best bet for him. He had been staring at the spinning TV while his drunk mind had wandered off to other things, unaware of how much time was passing.

Most people stumbled about blindly when they were drunk, but Ted was too tired to even be falling over himself. He was the type of drunk to find a nice place to sit and let his intoxicated mind take him places. He was a little boring like that, as he was in many other aspects (unfortunately).

Ted forced his body to take itself to the stairs and started up the blurry blocks of wood he swore were never as high as he felt they were at the moment. Coincidentally, Mike was going down at the same time to fetch something from the basement.

Mike noticed his dad's half-lidded eyes and uneasy way of walking, stopping to place a hand on Teds shoulder when he suddenly swayed in front of him.

"Dad, you okay?" Mike questioned, already guessing that his father was probably drunk. It was a rare sight to see, but it only made it more recognizable.

"Mike! My son, my son..." Ted slurred, "Y'know, I never tell you... how proud I am..."

Yeah, his dad was drunk. Never had Ted complimented him the way he just did unless he had received yet another excellent report card or had gotten an A+ on a project Mike worked hard on. Ted turned into an entire other person when intoxicated, like his own mind was betraying him and releasing all of his real inner thoughts.

"Thanks, Dad," Mike answered gratefully anyway. Even if Ted was drunk, drunk-Ted said things with no filter. "Let's get you to bed, okay?"

Ted nodded a little childishly, and tried to place his hand on Mike's shoulder. Instead, in his drunken state he had landed it too forcefully on Mike's chest, causing him to lose his balance on the narrow steps of their home.