Chapter Text
December 24th 1995 3:15 pm
Christmas Eves are never restful for Mike and Will—they’re often designated travel days, with both of them flying across the country to Indianapolis. There, they’d usually part ways to visit their respective families. It was painful every time, but as Will sits in his airplane seat, headset blaring some mediocre free music, and his boyfriend snoring beside him despite it not being an overnight flight, he’s practically giddy.
He still can’t believe it’s taken them this long. Of course, it’s no one’s fault, and Will would never guilt or pressure Mike for hesitating to tell his parents about their relationship. He’s sure Mike’s already beating himself up about it more than enough.
The flight feels like it lasts both a day and a minute, and as usual, Mike remains slumped against Will’s shoulder, drool sticking to the sides of his mouth when the plane touches down in Indianapolis.
Will gently nudges him awake as the other passengers—those without endlessly sleepy partners—begin grabbing their carry-on luggage. The commotion, combined with Will’s persistent whispers of Mike’s name, finally stirs him. He blinks awake, taking a glance at his environment before focusing his gaze on Will, who can’t help but grin.
Resisting the urge to flaunt his affection in front of the other passengers, Will leans in and whispers, “You have to stop falling asleep on flights.”
Mike scrunches his nose and shakes himself awake, earning Will another clench in his heart at the fact they’re not in their apartment, where he could sidle up to him and hug him without a second thought. “I was dozing,” Mike mumbles.
With an eye roll, Will gets up, and they make their way into the packed terminal. They’d been notified the night before that Karen would, in fact, be picking them up from the airport, and Will can practically feel Mike buzzing with nervous energy as they weave through the throng of people heading home to their families for Christmas. So far, though, Karen’s nowhere to be seen, not even at baggage claim.
Knowing he’s the only one of the two of them willing to actually search , Will cranes his neck to peer over the tops of people’s heads, eventually sighing and letting his shoulders slump. Mike seems to ignore him, disengaging again , already focused on hauling their suitcases off the conveyor belt.
“Maybe she’s outside or something,” Will wonders aloud, trotting to keep pace with Mike, who’s clearly intent on getting the hell out of here. He can’t blame him, obviously—the noise is doing a number on his own nerves, so he can’t imagine what it’s like for Mike, who has plenty of other worries plaguing him.
Mike hums noncommittally, his eyes fixed on some distant point. Will catches himself glancing down at his boyfriend’s hand swinging next to his own and feels a pang of frustration. He knows holding Mike’s hand right now won’t comfort him—in fact, it’d probably make things worse. Karen could literally be anywhere in this crowd, could easily pop up and surprise them from nowhere.
No , Will suddenly remembers. She’s okay . It’s the mantra he keeps repeating to himself, though he insists it’s more for Mike’s sake than his own. He’s thought about it from a few different angles, and this is the one that makes the most sense, right?
Karen must know. If Will were in her shoes, he’d be a little suspicious of those late-night, giggly calls Mike used to make when he was a teenager. He too would question the fact Mike lives with a man he’s been inseparable from his entire life and hasn’t dated a woman since freshman year.
It’s when they get outside that Will finally spots Karen rushing over from her car. Her warm, familiar presence stands out against the dreary, overcast day threatening to freeze his fingers off.
“Mike–” Will nudges him, pulling him from where he’s fussing with their shitty suitcase, and his head springs up just in time.
“Boys! Hello!” Karen calls out, practically singing from across the car park as she speedily bounds up to them. She wraps Mike in a brief hug before turning to Will with a smile he can’t quite decipher—excitement, probably, or perhaps a glimpse of her own private worries. He guesses that would make sense.
With a quick glance at Mike’s wide eyes, Will tries not to let himself echo that apprehension, and happily greets his likely future mother-in-law back. He smiles genuinely as she pulls him into a hug, a little tighter than the one she’d given her own son, he notices.
When she leans away, Karen keeps Will at arm’s length, scanning him in a way that reminds him of the time he’d gone to college and returned two inches taller. “It’s been too long, it really has,” she says with a tone that carries… anticipation?
Will nods, fumbling. “Uh-huh, yeah! Yeah–”
Karen glances between the two of them. “Oh, I just can’t wait to see you both in my house again, I’ve been looking forward to this all month, wow,” she breathes, as if in awe, pulling them both along when she turns to lead them back to where she’s parked. Will’s heart gives a little surprised jump at her enthusiasm, warming quickly.
He doesn’t have to wonder if Mike’s feeling the same mix of uncertainty and happiness about his mom’s candour; a quick turn of his head gauges his reaction, which appears to be more calm than Will expected.
Thankfully, Mike speaks next, sparing Will from wondering if he’ll have to do all the heavy lifting this holiday. “Yeah- yeah, us too,”
Karen’s practically beaming, her excitement spilling over in a rush of chatter that Will can barely even keep up with. He swears she’s not usually this animated, but then again, she’s right—it has been a while. He can see where Mike gets his rambling tendencies from, and honestly, he’s long since learned to appreciate it. Also, he figures Karen must be trying to navigate… this . The unspoken situation between them.
As they pile into the car, Will finds himself squished up against Mike in the backseat, while he listens to Karen rant on as the car begins, stuttering to life. “Oh you haven’t seen Holly in so long, Will, she’s gotten so… well, Holly , if that makes any sense,” she laughs.
Will mirrors the chuckle. “Mm, I bet,” he replies, though his attention is mostly on the way Mike’s fingers twitch, as if searching for something.
This is easy , Will thinks, turning to smile at his boyfriend who he finds has also done the same. His heart picks up a bit at the sight of Mike’s eyes glittering with relief. Karen is still talking—something to do with Holly getting so moody—but he can’t listen to it when Mike finally looks truly relaxed. For the first time in days.
Fuelled by a rush of elation and impulsivity, Will slides his hand to rest over Mike’s in the back seat of the car. While the warm hand jumps a little, eventually it relaxes, fingers interlocking with Will’s.
God, he swears this man’s going to be the death of him, especially when he’s looking at him like that with his mom sitting just a few feet away.
Okay, maybe he’s being a bit rude. “Thank you so much, Karen, for um– for inviting me,” Will says, slightly interrupting her and catching her eyes in the rearview mirror. “You didn’t have to.”
“Oh– oh!” She does that thing Mike does where he doubles his initial reactions with a small smile. Will emphasises this thought with a squeeze of the hand in his own. “Well, of course. No worries, I’m always happy to do your mom a favour.”
For a moment, silence follows, and the statement seems completely normal, buoyed by the lingering thrill of the entire reunion. But then Will feels Mike’s hand stiffen in his, loosening up a little, and his stomach starts to turn.
Mike speaks first, his mom blissfully unaware of the sudden tension building behind her. “What do you mean?”
“You know,” Karen begins, her once-comforting voice suddenly eerie, even though it should sound the same to anyone else.
“Joyce asked me if it would be okay to have Will over—you know, since they’re all off on vacation. And I mean, I know it’s not our family’s tradition to have a friend over for Christmas, but I just had to say yes…” She carries on talking, but Will can't focus on the words anymore, instead, he feels the weight of the broken pillars that had held Mike steady this morning and yesterday now leaning heavily on his own back.
It’s funny, really, how the solace Will had found in knowing Karen must be okay with them —because she would never have invited him if she weren’t—could be so easily shattered by one sentence.
His thoughts go instantly to the man beside him—the one who’s agonised over this moment a million times, the one who finally seemed to have resolved his own feelings, only for them to come crashing down again.
Mike’s hand slips out of Will’s and into his lap. They’re at least not afraid to exchange a glance, and Will catches sight of those scrunched-up eyebrows, the face that had been so relieved and elated just moments ago now dissolving into worry. The same worry Will’s seen all week, if not worse.
Will itches to reach out, to rest a comforting hand on Mike’s knee and rub his thumb over his jeans. Instead, he watches as Mike turns his head to look out the window, jiggling his leg, gnawing on his fingernails.
Will exhales slowly, turns around to stare straight ahead. He tries to take a deep breath, silently willing Mike to do the same.
Shit—since when has Karen been watching at them through the rearview mirror, waiting for a response?
“Um, yeah, that’s… that’s great, thanks so much,” Will says, trying his best to mask the disappointment in his tone. He hopes it’s faint—far less less than what he actually feels.
Karen tilts her head with a smile. “Don’t worry, the basement’s still the same,” she says, as though expecting him to jump for joy at the mention, or something. Maybe he would have, if the situation weren’t so tense for two thirds of the car. Maybe he would have joked about how it’s practically a second home for him, probably even a first.
But Mike still refuses to meet his gaze, no matter how hard Will tries. The fact alone makes Karen’s next comment sting even more.
“We got your sofa-bed set up in there, Will, all nice and cozy.”
It takes every ounce of his willpower not to visibly shiver or cringe out of his skin, clenching his hands in his lap, as he forces himself to thank the person who’s just reminded him that yes, he’s appreciated here, but not in the way he’d thought.
Will can’t even bear turning around to see how Mike’s feeling, and that never happens. But he knows the urge to talk to Mike about everything will come back to greet them soon, just as long as they survive this car journey.
“So, Michael,” Karen says, “Still not kicked that nail biting habit?”
They’re not going to survive this car journey.
December 24th 1995 10 PM
Sitting cross-legged on the itchy, springy sofa-bed, Will flips through an ancient comic, surprised it survived Karen’s many ruthless purges of Mike’s old stuff from when he was a kid. The light is warm, but holy shit, is it cold without Mike here to be his personal radiator. Karen was right—the basement is almost exactly the same, apart from the things Mike had taken to their apartment.
The walls are still adorned with faded drawings Will barely remembers making, clearly meaning more to Mike than anyone else, even Will himself. A few new additions, most likely Holly’s, stand out: a new TV with stickers stuck all over it, some stuffed animals, and a surprisingly soft blanket.
And it still smells the same. Like Mike, His Mike, the one somewhere else in this house, waiting for his family to go to sleep so he can sneak down to Will, just like he had promised.
This isn’t right. This is Christmas Eve, and though they’ve hardly spent any Christmas Eves together, it feels so wrong this year. They’re in the same house but still not snuggled up, Mike’s hands likely threading through Will’s hair. It’s just not fair.
After Karen had dropped that bombshell—one that had clearly shattered both Mike and Will’s expectations for the holiday—finding a moment of peace, let alone a second together to talk, had been nearly impossible. And even when they managed it, Will found the words lodging in his throat, helpless as he watched Mike unravel before his eyes.
Most of all, Will’s confused. He knows exactly why this hurts so much for him : Karen hadn’t invited him out of genuine acceptance, only as a favour to his mom. This makes it even harder to believe she might ever see him as family let alone as a son-in-law, or whatever. But for Mike, shouldn’t this eliminate some of his anxieties? Doesn’t this mean his mom no longer suspects him for ‘betraying’ her?
All in all, Will needs Mike. He needs to speak to him properly.
The sound of the basement door opening makes Will jump where he’s lying. His stupid, matching plaid pyjamas had almost melted his brain with their softness.
Footsteps grow louder as Mike descends the stairs, moving like he’s expecting Will to be asleep already, not wanting to wake him. “Will?” he whispers, peering around to the sofa-bed.
“Hi sweetheart,” Will says softly, making an exception for the pet name, at least for now . It’s been a hard day, alright? He can’t help but weaken at the sight of his boyfriend, once so tense, now visibly unwinding with relief at the sight of him. Mike pads over to the sofa-bed and sits down with a great sigh, resting his head in his hands.
Will’s heart tightens with grief. Sitting up, he places his hands over Mike’s shoulders. “Come here you,” he murmurs. Mike swiftly turns and tucks his head under Will’s chin, desperately searching for solace, arms wrapping around his waist and squeezing tightly, as if he’s clinging to a life raft.
Will squeezes back, pouring all his heart and warmth into the embrace, and presses a gentle kiss to Mike’s head, which is likely aching as it always does when he worries.
“Everyone’s asleep now,” Mike mumbles into Will’s chest, trying to settle. He sighs brokenly, and Will's heart shatters for the hundredth time. “S- so you can come upstairs.”
Will closes his eyes and, without thinking, begins to rock themselves the barest amount from side to side, turning his head to whisper into Mike’s ear, “It’s okay to cry, Mike. It’s alright, it’s been a stressful–”
“I’m not crying ,” Mike interrupts, though his voice trails off with a very incriminating sniffle. “Just… just a little…” He makes a noise to replace the words he can’t quite find.
Nodding, Will nearly settles for that. Sleep begins to creep over him, his eyes drooping as the comfort and safety of Mike’s warmth engulfs him like a cocoon. He finds himself almost lying both of them back down as well, ready to have Mike’s sprawled form press down on him, a welcome feeling of pressure that always soothes him for reasons he doesn’t fully understand.
No . Will shakes himself awake and leans back to cup Mike’s face. “Hey, what did I tell you?” Mike looks up at him, lips nervously tucked beneath his teeth. Pushing at his chest a little, Will urges, “Don’t keep it all inside. Okay? You wanna talk about it with me, don’t you?”
Shakily, Mike nods, clinging to Will as if he’s his anchor. Will can sense how restless he is, vying to go upstairs to his room. “I just… feel so bad. Like, this guilt is just–” Mike exhales shakily, the breath trembling as it leaves him, before he digs his face back into Will’s shoulder with a groan.
“Words, Mike,” Will whispers, his hand moving to the back of Mike’s head, which already sports a serious case of bed-head.
“I’m just sorry you have to deal with all this,” Mike mumbles. Raising his eyebrows, Will guesses that yeah, it’s tough hearing that your boyfriend’s mom never really wanted you to know that she accepts you, that this whole thing was just a favour to your slightly overbearing mom. But he should have figured that Mike would be the one who felt that most deeply.
“You don’t deserve it, Will. You don’t.” Mike rubs his face against the fabric of Will’s shirt, likely seeking comfort, and Will wishes he knew what to say. “This is all so… stupid, y’know? What’s wrong with me, I hate all this–”
“ Mike , what’s this ‘what’s wrong with me’ talk?” Will interrupts, soft but firm. “I promise I’m not judging you. I mean, I certainly feel… led astray right now. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling.” Mike remains silent, sighing as he seems to settle in for a long sleep.
“Look, I don’t mind if you wanna keep on… if you wanna keep us a secret for a few more days, alright? I’ve always been fine with that.” No response. Will lowers his voice further. “And anyways, I thought… you’d prefer if your mom didn’t know. That’s what you originally wanted, right?”
Out of nowhere, Mike leans back from the hug, crossing his legs on the mattress and exhaling heavily. “But it’s been like… years , Will. I thought– I thought I was finally out of the woods, or something. I don’t know.”
Will scoots forward until their legs overlap. “So… you want her to know?”
Clawing at his hair, Mike heaves another sigh. “No, yes, maybe– I just can’t keep this up a moment longer.”
Will nods, offering his best sympathetic smile as he listens, feeling the ache of Mike’s words in his very bones, knowing that sentiment like an old, unwelcome companion.
“I mean, it’s been years, years , since we got together and… I thought I’d be ready by college. Then I thought maybe by graduation, then by the time we moved in together, but now it’s been a year since then and I’m still not ready. It’s so ridiculous,” Mike rambles.
Will lets him speak. Sometimes, it’s better to let him get it all out like this. Eventually, Mike might reach a fairer conclusion on his own.
“And I know you don’t mind waiting for me, Will,” Mike says, softer, staring Will down as he glides a hand up his leg. “It just… doesn’t change the fact that I still feel so shitty for– for keeping this from everyone. And now, it’s like the perfect opportunity to tell Mom, because we’re both here, and it’s like the world is begging me to do it, but I just can’t– I…”
As soon as Will catches the faint trace of a tear gliding down Mike’s cheek, the soft light from the lamp reflecting its dampness, he leans forward and wraps his arms tightly around Mike’s back, pulling him close. The lump rising in Will’s throat threatens to overwhelm him, especially when he hears the small, heartbreaking sound Mike makes in reaction to the hug. He steels himself; he has to be strong for him, why else would he be here?
“I just really don’t want things to change,” Mike whispers, his voice quivering.
Will, remembering what he hadn’t said the last time Mike expressed this fear, sniffs quietly and leans back just enough to look at him. He keeps him firmly in his hold, except for a second to brush the stray hairs from Mike’s face. “Maybe this change will be good,” he murmurs.
A sad laugh escapes Mike’s lips. “As if my mom seeing me in an… entirely different way could ever be good.”
Will frowns, wishing he had a clever response, something to combat Mike’s doubt, but there’s no point in fighting the truth. It’s not as if Will’s family hadn’t started to view him differently after he told them. Sure, everyone was accepting, but there were small innocent comments, things his mom said sometimes that Will was not sure she would have said before.
All he can really offer is a quiet, “I know how you feel.”
The ramifications of Mike’s dilemma spin around in Will’s mind as he leans down to kiss the top of Mike’s head. “So does that mean you don’t wanna tell her now?”
“Mm– no. But,” Mike sighs, shifting away from their hug to gnaw on his thumbnail, “but I… have to. Right?”
Will frowns. “What? Mike.” He shifts closer, his chest tightening at the sorrowful look Mike’s giving him, resignation etched into his features. It’s not fair—this wasn’t what either of them had envisioned for the night before Christmas Day. This was supposed to be their first real Christmas spent together, and that only worsens things.
“ Mike ,” Will repeats, wrapping him in a side-hug again, this time further encircling him more securely with his legs, leaning his forehead against his shoulder. He searches and finds comfort in the fact that at least Mike’s accepting his affection, melting into the embrace and humming quietly.
“I never want you to feel like you have to do this. Not for me, not for anyone else,” Will says firmly. “In fact, you were the one that told me, when we were seventeen, that nothing should ever make me feel forced to come out. That it was my decision and no one else’s. Remember that, hm?”
Mike looks at him, his expression softening, as though Will’s words are a balm to his pain. The way he gazes at Will—sweetly, like Will’s surrounded by a halo of light instead of sitting in a stuffy basement—makes him lose his train of thought for a moment.
Regaining focus, Will brushes a few more strands of hair away from Mike’s face.
“Yeah…” Mike’s gaze skitters away, a fleeting smile at the memory flashing across his face before it’s quickly snuffed out.
“Still. This is different. This is seven years of me lying to my mom. And everyone else. And you’d think that pressure would make me wanna tell her more right? But no, it just… makes it all the more harder, which probably makes me a terrible person–”
“Hey!” Will raises his voice a little higher than the hushed, caring tones he’d elicited before, the impulse to cut off Mike’s spiralling fuelling him. “We’ve talked about this,” he softens, running a gentle finger along Mike’s cheek and down to his jawline.
Closing his eyes, Mike nods in defeat, chewing on his lip. When he speaks, his voice is barely a whisper, breaking, “I’m sorry, I really can’t… I can’t this year. Not when she clearly doesn’t expect it.”
“That’s okay,” Will mumbles into Mike’s cheek before pressing a kiss there. He’s surprised to find that Mike’s words, which might have caused grief, instead lift a weight off his shoulder. El and his mom have always been right—talking about things really is way better than letting everything sit like old milk.
“You sure?” Mike blinks up at him with watchful, intelligent eyes. And God, Will thinks, he really is in love, and there’s no way he can let this person stay unhappy any longer.
“The surest.”
Apparently, that’s all Mike needs. He truly melts into the hug, letting out a deep sigh into Will’s shoulder, his hands settling on the small of his back. A smile tugs at the corners of Will’s mouth, warmth blooming in his chest. He’s not stupid—he knows that this new agreement will likely make Christmas even harder for himself. It won’t exactly be the sparkly, shiny day he’d imagined, but if it means Mike feels a little more at ease, it’s worth it.
A moment of warm, comfortable silence follows. Will soon finds himself sufficiently distracted by the softness of Mike’s pyjama shirt under his hands. Heavy eyes close, and he wonders if he should guide them both down into the pillows.
“Wanna sleep, Mike?” Will asks quietly. He watches Mike startle a little before he takes a deep breath and stretches out his limbs.
“Can we sleep in my room?” Mike requests wryly, blinking blearily. “‘S so cold in here.”
Will guesses he’s right, though it’s hard to feel cold when there’s someone who’s always running a little warm clinging to you like a koala. “Sure,” Will mumbles. Mike unwraps himself slowly, and they stand from the bed. But as Will notices Mike’s downtrodden expression, and idea sparks.
“Hey, how about…” They both halt beneath the stairs, Will hand resting on Mike’s shoulder, his face inching closer with a grin. “...I persuade you to make us hot chocolates?”
There’s no denying that this is one of Will’s favourite parts of the colder months—mostly because Mike, despite being hopeless at cooking anything else—has a knack for making hot chocolate just right. It’s like he has this power , a power to be annoyingly endearing, especially when he perfects the one thing he knows really warms Will up during the winter. Even more so when Mike makes a point of buying oat milk for the occasion, all because he knows Will prefers it that way.
“You hardly need to persuade me,” Mike sighs, beginning to walk the steps. “But I’m open to it,” he quickly adds, glancing back as they emerge from the basement into the dimly lit kitchen.
Will, although his eyelids are heavy with exhaustion, walks up to Mike and places both hands on his shoulders, gently squeezing. “Oh really? What did you–”
Though it’s hard to make out in the dark, Mike looks half-unimpressed, half-amused, tilting his head as Will cuts himself off with an uncontrollable yawn. “Go on upstairs, Will,” he says, his voice like honey, soothing and warm. “I’ll be up soon.”
Will’s about to deny, planning to stick around and lazily watch Mike work—maybe even snack on whatever he finds in the cupboard. But then Mike’s leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead, gentle and lingering, and damn it. Damn it, he’s a weak man, so he nods and makes a noise of agreement before turning to head upstairs.
As he passes through the hallway, he briefly glances at the front door where Will had met with Ted and Holly just a few hours ago. Holly’s changed a lot since he’d last seen her—it really seems like she’ll never stop growing. But in many ways, she’s hardly changed at all. Karen might love to make comments about her being a moody teenager, but to Will, it feels like she’s always been that way—a cheeky, sarcastic girl he’d befriended amidst the danger of nearly a decade ago.
He wonders if it’s harder for her than it was for him, going missing. Joyce’s doting had been a little overwhelming at times, sure, but at least she’d wanted to talk to him, to truly understand how he felt. Will knows he shouldn’t assume, but he can’t help but worry that Holly needs someone who really understands her. He knows Mike tries his best—loves him for it, even—but there’s something about being stuck in your own universe, watching the world change around you, that’s hard to explain to someone unless they’ve been there themselves.
That’s why he’d made those cookies with the peppermint frosting—the ones Holly had always loved, whenever Will used to bake them for the Wheeler family around Christmas when she was younger. Karen had praised him for bringing them, but Holly seemed to be the only one to actually remember the tradition.
Will has to admit, he’s glad Holly hasn’t responded to her trauma the way he feared she might have been naturally, genetically predetermined to do. She doesn’t seem to push away everything that reminds her of her childhood, nor does she reject anything that doesn’t make her seem older and more mature. But then again, clinging to the idea of going back to the person you were before everything happened has its own set of challenges, Will thinks.
Lost in thought, Will finds himself back in Mike’s old bedroom. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he glances around the room and can’t help but grin. Nothing’s really changed since Mike moved away to college, aside from a few missing items now residing in their shared apartment instead.
Burying himself in the sheets and pillows of Mike’s old bed, Will can’t help feeling like a teenager again—breathing in Mike’s familiar scent that clings to the duvet, smiling giddily as he realises, I’m really sleeping next to Mike tonight . The memory of sharing stolen kisses in the kitchen when they’re sure no one’s watching rushes back to him. Hiding.
Nothing’s really changed.
Will shifts from his curled-up position onto his back, spreading out like a starfish as he stares at the ceiling. There’s no point in trying to hide from himself, really. Tomorrow is daunting.
Quickly, he pushes that worry aside, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, reminding himself like he does with Mike, that tomorrow will bring plenty of good moments too. There’s always something to look forward to alongside the things to dread, and honestly, that’s been the story of his life—maybe even better than that—so he can easily handle this.
The soft sound of the door opening makes Will look up. Mike steps in, holding two mugs with steam swirling above them, and Will’s mouth practically waters .
“Oh good, I wasn’t sure if you were asleep,” Mike laughs as he climbs into bed carefully. Will sits up, leaning against the pillows, and eagerly grabs a mug from Mike’s hand with just a touch of desperation. Boy, does he need this.
“Could never miss this,” Will murmurs, surprised at how croaky his voice sounds from sleep. He brings the liquid to his lips and, yes, he burns himself a little, but oh my god . He hums at the sweetness.
“ Mike ,” he says, ignoring the way his boyfriend silently laughs at him from the corner of his eye. Will takes sips between sentences. “Absolutely gorgeous. Mm. Did you– did you put cinnamon in thi—”
“Ah–ah, secret recipe,” Mike teases, holding up a finger to emphasise his point before taking his own sip. Will leans his head back and sighs in exaggerated exasperation, though he’s used to this little game they play, honestly kind of preferring it to Mike actually telling him. “Uh, you got– you got…”
“Oh god, what–”
“Wait.” Mike reaches out, swiping one finger across the tip of Will’s nose. He shows him the slight dab of whipped cream on his finger before putting it into his mouth.
“Ugh, gross, Mike,” Will groans, but he can feel his cheeks aching with a grin. He takes another sip, the sweetness flooding his senses and warming him from the inside out.
Their shared chuckle gives way to a comfortable quiet, broken only by the occasional sip and the rustle of sheets as Mike not-so-subtly gets closer to Will with every few seconds. Eventually, he’s pressed right up against him, arm to arm, their warmth seeping through the fabric of their matching pyjama shirts. Speaking of, Will looks down at the patterns, giggling a little.
“You know, if we want to stay secretive about our relationship, we should probably not wear these pyjamas in front of your family tomorrow,” Will says lightly, nudging Mike and silently hoping he hasn’t touched a nerve.
Mike snorts. “Yeah, probably.”
It’s a small response, but enough to make Will realise he might’ve hit the subject too soon. He winces slightly as Mike lifts his thumb to his mouth, gnawing on his nail in a telltale gesture of unease. Will moves quickly to smooth things over.
“Mike? You feeling nervous about things?” Will’s energy is waning, but if he has anything left to give, it’s for this.
Caught off guard by the question, Mike blinks a few times, his eyes squeezing shut a few times as his mouth scrunches to the side. It’s a medley of all the little things he does when he’s anxious—a five-star meal of nervous habits, Will thinks fondly.
“I… I mean…”
Before Mike can finish, Will shifts to put an arm around his shoulders, gently pulling him closer until his boyfriend’s head rests against his chest. As if that breaks down a wall, that’s when Mike takes a sip of his drink and says, “Obviously, yeah. I’m just… I’m just sorry, Will.”
“Shh, hey,” Will whispers instinctively. He turns, catching Mike’s gaze with a concerned expression as he gives him a gentle jostle. “You need to stop saying that, I told you I’m fine–”
“I mean for… like, ruining our Christmas,” Mike mumbles, staring down at his mug. He swirls around the mix of chocolatey milk and cream, his brow furrowed.
Will heightens his voice, leaning back to try his best to catch Mike’s eyes again. “Mike you did not– ”
“Okay that sounded super dramatic, I know,” Mike admits, laughing at himself. “I just really hate watching you always sacrificing stuff for me. And I know how much you’ve always wanted to spend Christmas here, in my house, with my family.”
God, he’s too sweet for his own good. And he doesn’t even realise it. Will sets his half-drunk hot chocolate down on the nightstand and decidedly cups his warmed hand around Mike’s cheek, the palm of which he soon leans into.
Will takes a breath, carefully picking his words. He thinks about everything he’s truly enjoyed ever since he got here—the moments that will stick with him. “You know that I’ve always wanted to spend Christmas here because of you, right? Like, it’s always been about you .”
A smile begins to grow on Mike’s face, lighting up his eyes. His eyebrows and nose twitch with curiosity. “Go on…”
Will continues, “I mean, I can’t deny that I also… kind of feel a little scared of telling your family. Obviously not as much as you, but I wouldn’t mind waiting.” His voice shifts from mumbly and quiet to earnest all of a sudden, “I just wanted to see how you experience Christmas. I wanna see you happy tomorrow, okay? I wanna see you relaxed, not all… fidgety like this. I’d hate to think I’m even a little part of what’s causing that too.”
“Will, you’re the one calming me down, actually.”
Okay, how is he supposed to not smile at that? Jesus.
Rubbing his thumb over Mike’s cheekbone, tracing the curve of his under eye, Will tilts his head and grins. “And I’m happy to do so. I’ll…” Fuck, he’s really admitting this isn’t he? He can already imagine the teasing that’s coming. “You do know that, surprisingly, you can actually get me to do literally anything for you, right?”
Mike raises his eyebrows, unable to hide his smile and the clear hint of amusement in his voice. “Is that so?”
“Mhm, especially if it makes you feel relaxed,” Will mumbles, leaning in closer, feeling Mike’s warm sigh brush over his skin before he lets their noses touch lightly. “Don’t use that against me.”
“Too late, I’m already thinking of all the things I’m gonna have you do–”
Of course, Mike would start a whole list. And because Will knows his boyfriend really is annoyingly sweet but also very capable of rambling when he’s excited—plus Will just wants to sleep —he decides to cut him off the best way he can. He connects their lips in a sugary kiss, lasting only a few seconds, but it’s enough to shut Mike up.
When he leans away, Will’s stomach does a little flip at Mike’s awestruck expression. God, it was just one kiss , how is he feeling this way? “Wh- what?” Will giggles.
“You’ve got chocolate around your mouth,” Mike says. And while Will is thoroughly happy that Mike seems back to his usual self, he’s also a little wary of that grin plastered on his face and the way his eyes fixed on Will’s lips.
“Okay…” Will raises an eyebrow. Just as he’s about to rub the chocolate away from his lips, two hands gently but firmly grab his face, and suddenly Mike’s lips are all over him, sending electricity through his face accompanied by a little noise of surprise.
Will screws up his face, unable to stop laughing ridiculously as he squirms under the surprisingly strong grip. Mike isn’t even kissing his lips—he’s pressing his mouth over and over to the line and the corners of them. And with the first swipe of a tongue, he squeezes his hands over Mike’s arms.
“Mike– Mike, oh my god , you’re so–” He’s cut off by a proper kiss. Will tries to get his words in between the presses of his boyfriend’s lips and the sweet laughter vibrating against his face. “You’re so gross, you’re disgusting– ”
His light protests are interrupted again, this time with a deeper kiss, slower and softer. Will feels his brain turn to mush. He really wasn’t kidding earlier—he’d let Mike do anything, ask for anything, even taste the remnants of the hot chocolate inside of his mouth. Despite its heated beginnings, it ends up swelling Will’s heart with its sweetness, its innocence. When Mike finally pulls away, Will can’t resist chuckling at his boyfriend’s dopey, lopsided smile, wide pupils, and pink cheeks.
“Hm, tastes alright,” Mike hums.
“You’re so stupid,” Will whispers, giving him one more quick peck on the nose. “We are way too comfortable around each other.”
Mike raises his brows and bobs his bed before flopping back onto the bed, his arms giving way. He snorts lightly. “I think it’s a little late to be realising that.”
Once Mike has rested his head on Will’s chest—without even being asked, mind you—Will relaxes, letting out a deep, calming sigh into the air before reaching his hand round to the lamp’s light switch.
“Lights off?” Will asks into Mike’s hair, who then nods. When the room is flung into complete darkness, Will can only feel Mike’s hand curling around his front, a nose nudging into his sternum, and hair tickling his face.
“So,” Will says, his voice sounding impossibly louder now that the lights are off, making Mike emit a little sound of acknowledgement.
“Do we both agree? No telling your parents.”
Mike snorts. “My parents plural? Definitely not,” he says lightly, but this only earns a disgruntled noise from Will. “I mean, yeah I agree. Just… not ready.”
“And don’t you apologise.”
“Yep,” Mike agrees, and Will swears he can see him throwing up a goofy little thumbs-up in the dark. “Promise.”
For a second, Will senses the impermanence in his voice turning into something like unease, tension lurking beneath. But sleep is looking really , really good right now, especially with this nice heated, weighted blanket that he calls his boyfriend on top of him, slowly rubbing his thumb over the side of his torso.
Before he knows it, the day is behind them. For right now, Will’s content to let things sit in their natural state, without forcing change. He really meant what he’d said—he came here for Mike, more than anything else.