Chapter Text
It takes Mike four days before he snaps.
Will doesn't say anything about it the next morning. Or the next, or the next. It’s been three days, and he doesn't mention it a single time. Doesn't mention Mike’s request, or his reactions, or any fact that anything had happened at all.
And, worst of all, it doesn't happen again either. He doesn't call Mike “baby”, or “sweetheart”, or “my love”, or anything besides “Mike”. Michael has never hated his name more.
To Will’s credit, Mike doesn’t bring it up either. He keeps himself busy, trying his best to ignore the longing brewing in his chest and stifle the words that keep repeating in his mind. But the longer the days draw on without a single mention of what happened, the more intensely Mike can’t stop thinking about it.
Will comes over every day that week; sometimes with the rest of the party, sometimes alone. Either way, as much as he loves having Will over, it’s starting to drive Mike a little bit insane.
“Mike”, can you grab that cup for me, please?
“Mike”, what do you think?
“Mike”, look at this!
Every time Will refers to him: Mike, Mike, Mike.
It’s gotten to the point where Michael has to consciously tell himself not to scowl every time he hears Will say his name. His hope is a subconscious thing: every time Will opens his mouth he can’t help the way his heart stutters at the possibility of hearing the words he so desperately wants to receive.
“Mike, I’m going to take a shower before the others come over.” Will disappears around the kitchen corner, and Mike can’t help the way he sighs under his breath as soon as he’s out of sight.
It’s day four after what Mike has deemed “The Incident”, and Mike is washing the dishes leftover from dinner last night. He can hear Will humming in the background, distant over the sound of running water, but he would recognise the chorus of “Should I Stay or Should I Go” anywhere.
Will had stayed the night, to nobody’s surprise; their evening predictably full of campaign planning along with comic reading and, of course, absolutely no mention of the fact that two days ago William Byers spent the evening calling Mike pet names in his own basement like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Fuck, and he’s back to this again.
In all honesty, Mike has no idea why this is such a big deal to him. It happened once in a game of truth or dare and, ok, once more later that night, but that definitely shouldn't constitute whatever the fuck this is.
Mike likes to think of himself as a fairly logical person. And so, because there’s absolutely no other way to rationalize this reaction, Mike comes to the very logical realization that he’s only thinking about it so much because Will is his best friend, and therefore it would be completely reasonable that he would feel safe hearing him say those things.
It makes sense, but even so, Mike would have never expected it to be so all-consuming, and it changes nothing about his undeniable addiction to Will’s drug-laced words.
Mike sighs under his breath as he finishes rinsing off the last dish and places it on the drying rack.
It’s been four days.
Four fucking days that Mike’s been trying to convince himself that “he’ll forget about it soon.” Where he keeps telling himself that tomorrow will arrive and somehow, his mind’ll miraculously be wiped blank of Will’s voice and the way he leaned over as he whispered sweet nothings into Mike’s ear.
Four days later, and still no such luck.
He forces himself to remember that Will’s words don’t mean anything. Will never actually meant anything by them- simple as that. It was part of a game, and now the game is done. He really should just drop it.
But he also did it again later that night… his brain supplies unhelpfully, before realizing that repeating the fact for the fifth time that hour isn’t doing him any favors.
Mike hears the shower fall silent and comes to the conclusion that he’s going to have to put a stop to this. Immediately.
No more dwelling.
It doesn’t have to be a thing. It won’t be a thing. And Mike tells himself that he’s ok with that.
—
It becomes a thing.
Mike might die.
—
The party comes over later that evening. Dustin, to everyone’s dismay, brings out the cards again and insists on playing another round. Mike bites down a smile at the suggestion, because another round of truth or dare means another chance, no matter how small, that Will might pull the same card again. Mike tries not to look too excited as everyone else reluctantly agrees.
“Are you shitting me?” Lucas groans as Dustin spawns a handkerchief from nowhere. “Dustin, c’mon, tying me up? It’s a fucking card game! You can’t actually be thinking about doing this?”
Dustin’s face turns solemn as he considers, then he sighs. “Yeah, I guess this is a bit much for me…” he turns towards Max. “You should have the honors.” A grin spreads across her face as she stands and takes the fabric from Dustin.
Lucas’s eyes grow wide as Mike and Will howl with laughter. “Max. Come on-”
“Tie him up! Tie him up!” Dustin starts chanting, and Mike and Will quickly join in.
Max walks over to where Lucas sits, a look of horror growing on his face. She smiles back sweetly. “I take it back, I love this game.” She leans down and takes both of Lucas’ hands in hers, ignoring the slew of protests coming from Lucas as she ties his wrists together.
The rest of the party cheers as Max finishes tying the knot.
“I hate you.” Lucas shakes his head, but the corners of his lips tug upward as he looks up at Max’s smug grin.
Max shrugs, “Worth it.” Lucas twists his wrists in another attempt to escape, but Max puts a quick stop to it by leaning down and whispering something in his ear. Lucas freezes, eyes wide as Max raises an eyebrow with a smirk and turns to walk back to her seat.
“What did you say?” Dustin’s head whips back and forth between the two of them. “Lucas? What did she say?”
Lucas clears his throat, avoiding all eye contact. “Nothing, nothing.” He does his best at what Mike thinks is him waving his hand in dismissal, but with both of them tied together, it looks more like he's doing a very bad job at swatting away a fly. He groans and gives up, ignoring Dustin’s desperate requests to know what Max said. “Will, it’s your turn now!” He uses both hands to nudge the deck of cards to his right.
Will flips over the next card and starts reading aloud.
“Call the person to your right-” Mike holds his breath. “Wait, this is the pet name one.” His head snaps to the side to look at Will as he tries to control the way his heart soars at the implication- this is perfect. What are the chances of Will pulling the same card twice? And both times directed at Mike? This has to be a sign- some divine intervention from the universe.
Mike was never one to believe in fate, but after this he might reconsider. He doesn’t even have the time to question why his heart speeds up, or his breath catches, because it doesn’t matter anymore.
Lucas starts talking, and Mike tunes him out, because now, Mike thinks it just might have all been worth it. All of the pointless worrying, his confusion and frustration; it was all leading to this moment. He would wait forever just for Will to call him “baby” again, or to hear anything other than his name-
“Mike.” Lucas waves a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Did you hear me?”
Mike stops, gaze refocusing. “Huh? Uh, no?”
“I asked if we should change it up this time?” Lucas suggests, and Mike feels the smile slip off his face. “I mean, you guys did it last time; we can do Will and someone else?”
Mike might strangle him with the handkerchief tied around his wrists.
“Uh, well that’s not fair; I’m literally on his right.” He tries for nonchalant, but it comes out slightly strained. Max gives him a quizzical look.
“Yeah, but he did this dare with you last time; he can do it with someone else.”
“But those aren’t the rules.”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes!” Everyone looks at him, and he suddenly realizes how defensive he sounds. “I mean, yeah, it matters. Are we just gonna change up every dare now?”
“No, I just think we can change this one; you guys have already done it.”
“Why? There’s no point!” Lucas and Dustin glance at each other, their expressions weary at Mike’s outbursts. Max looks thoughtful, and Will just looks confused. Honestly, Mike feels the same way.
He doesn't understand why he’s so upset about this. It’s a stupid game; he knows he should let it go. But the thought of Will calling someone else “baby”, seeing him lean over and whisper in someone else’s ear…
His chair screeches as he pushes away from the table. “I’m gonna get some water.”
He storms up the stairs, angry at himself for getting so worked up over nothing.
It’s just part of the game. It’s just part of the game.
Mike realizes that he doesn’t really care: game or not, he’s not happy about the idea either way. He doesn’t have the time nor energy to question it before he hears the telltale sound of someone walking up the stairs behind him.
He recognizes Will’s footsteps before his voice, and the cadence of his footfalls stop before he speaks. “Hey, are you good?”
Mike’s turned away, but he can imagine the way Will stands at the kitchen door, one hand propped against the doorframe, and watches as Mike grabs a glass and takes it to the sink to fill. He clears his throat.
“Yeah.”
“Mike-” Will takes a step forward but stops at the expression on Mike’s face when he turns around. He sounds cautious, “Mike?”
“Huh?”
“Ok, what is going on with you?”
“What? Nothing!” Will rolls his eyes.
“‘Nothing,’ my ass. You’ve been out of it for like, the past week. What’s going on?”
“Nothing is going on! Everything is fine.” Everything is very not fine; Mike feels like he’s about to explode.
“I’m gonna find out anyway. You might as well just tell me now.” Will shrugs and leans back against the counter. “Mike?”
And hearing his stupid name again pretty much does it for him. “Nothing is wrong! Can you just drop it?” It comes out harsher than he intends, and he recoils slightly at his own tone.
The silence between them is a void, and after a few awkward seconds Mike takes a sip of his water just to have something to do. It does nothing to remove the lump in his throat. Will doesn't say anything for a moment, and Mike can hear him shift off the counter to step towards him. Mike hears him inhale.
“Are you… mad at me?” His voice sounds small. Scared.
And that makes Mike freeze, because no, of course not. Ok, fine, maybe Mike is a little bit mad. At Will? No, never. But under the circumstances? At the fact that Will refuses to call him anything but his name? At the fact that, for some inexplainable reason, he wants Will to call him something other than his name? Yeah, he’s slightly upset.
But the fact that Will thinks Mike’s anger is directed at him? That he’s the one that did something wrong? Mike never wants Will to feel that way.
“No, Will, of course I’m not mad at you.” Will’s posture loosens slightly as he nods slowly.
“Are you mad at something else?”
Yes. “No.”
“You’re lying.” Mike sighs and gives in, opting for the second biggest thing pissing him off.
“Ok, sure, yes. I’m just mad that nobody downstairs is following the actual rules of the game.” He dumps the rest of his water down the sink and watches as it swirls down the drain before turning around to face Will again.
Will doesn't believe him; Mike can already tell, but thankfully he doesn't say anything about it. He waits for Will’s reaction, but when he says nothing, the silence just makes Mike more uncomfortable. “And I’ve just been thinking about some stuff.” He says quickly before he can overthink it.
Will raises an eyebrow. “What kind of stuff?”
“It’s dumb.”
“What else is new?”
“Hey!”
“I’m kidding,” Will steps forward to stand next to Mike, mirroring his pose as he leans next to the sink. “What is it? I still want to hear it. Even if you think it’s stupid.”
Mike sighs in defeat. He knows Will’s going to get it out of him at some point anyway. “Well you’ve… you’ve been just calling me Mike again.” He cringes at how dumb it sounds.
He looks confused. “Uh, yeah? What else would I call you?”
“Well, um, I just mean.” Mike looks away. “You know… I just noticed that, uh. Well, remember the other night with the dare? Where you called me… you know… I mean, I know it was just for the game, but like, later that night you also did it again, and I guess I was wondering why you stopped?” The words fall out of him in a rush.
Will’s eyes grow wide with surprise. “Oh! Well, honestly I thought you wouldn't want me to do it again; you seemed kinda unsure about it last time so-”
“No! I mean, yeah, I don't mind it. It like… made me feel safe, I guess? I don't know.” Will nods and Mike feels the need to explain further. “I just mean, you know anybody would find it nice, right? And especially coming from you because we’re super close, so it’s easier for me to believe, and I guess I’ve just been thinking about it a bit lately. Um. Yeah.” He trails off lamely and Will rolls his eyes with a smile.
“I get it, baby. You don’t have to explain.” And oh, Mike can’t help the way his lips twitch up at the word.
“Ok, uh, good.” He knows he’s still smiling. “And this is just me telling you, so I mean, if you don’t want to keep doing it, obviously, like you don’t have to-”
“I want to,” Will says quickly. “I always- I mean, of course I want to; I just wasn't sure if you did too.” Mike rushes
“Well, yeah. It was kinda confusing so I get why you didn’t- not that it’s your fault or anything! And it doesn’t have to be, like, every single time either just, um, sometimes. I guess. Just-”
“I get it, don’t wor-”
“Also, I’m sorry that it seemed like I was mad at you. I definitely wasn’t. I promise, I was just thinking too much and-”
“Hey, love,” And yeah, that shuts him up pretty quickly. Will reaches up to put his hands on his shoulders. “I get it. I’m glad you told me about it, ok?” Warmth blooms in his chest and he nods quickly.
“Yeah, me too.”
“Come on, baby.” Will smiles softly and Mike finally understands what people mean when they talk about getting lost in someone’s eyes. And it’s perfect. Everything is perfect; Mike finally realizes why it was such a big deal to him before, because now he can’t imagine going back to a time where this wasn’t happening.
Will tilts forward, just enough to make Mike aware of his heart pounding in his ears, and leans in right next to Mike’s ear like he’s about to tell him some big secret.
He feels the corner of Will’s lip twitch upward, and he shudders at the feeling. “Race you downstairs.”
And then he’s running. By the time Mike gets over the feeling of Will’s breath warm against his skin, he’s already gone.
—
The rest of the game passes by in a blur. After Will tells the party that he doesn’t want to do the same dare again anyway, everyone moves on pretty quickly. Even Max spares Mike for a few rounds and instead targets Dustin, rapid-firing truth-or-dare questions at him instead.
Mike listens to the conversation halfheartedly… something about Dustin getting asked what the most embarrassing moment of his life was, followed by his story of the time he walked into his parents in the DVD store while buying porn. But honestly, his mind is too preoccupied with the giddy feeling that consumes him every time Will leans in to whisper in his ear. Max raises a quizzical eyebrow at him at some point in the game, which he brushes off with a shrug. She just rolls her eyes and flips him off.
The rest of the party leaves at some point, and then it’s just the two of them once again.
Predictable as always, they return to a comfortable silence as they read another comic, the hum of AC the only thing audible as the night draws on.
It’s sometime around one in the morning when Mike notices Will’s yawns growing more frequent that he flips the book shut.
“Sleep?” Will nods as he rubs his eyes and flicks the flashlight off.
“Goodnight, Will.”
Mike doesn't need to look at Will to hear the smile on his face when he speaks. “G’night, baby.”
And there in the darkness, Mike is left in a very similar state of confusion to a few days ago, except this time he can’t help but hear Will’s very real voice echoing in his mind. He can’t decide which one is worse.
—
This goes on for what seems like days.
It’s almost as if since the floodgates have opened, there’s no way to close them. The words pour out of Will’s lips like honey: baby, darling, sweetheart, angel.
Mike is going insane.
Every time Will says something new, it sends another jolt of life down his spine, almost as if he’d been asleep his whole life and this was the sun peeking through the windows at last— even the words Mike always thought he was accustomed to- Will’s given them all a new meaning.
It’s all so natural- the way Will says it: in the darkness every night before they fall asleep, in Mike’s ear whenever Will cracks a joke when they’re with the party, even just aloud in everyday conversation. They’ll stand in the kitchen together, still barely awake as they fix breakfast, and Will’ll mumble a half awake, “Baby, the milk,” to get Mike to pass it to him. And he’s just expected to go on about his day as if he’s not actively screaming inside at the thought.
He keeps Will’s words like a collection. Trophies that he keeps polished in his mind by revisiting the memories frequently.
Because now, Mike knows that they’re meant for him.
Whether Will means it fully or not- they’re still being whispered in Mike’s ear, and he can’t help his growing sense of satisfaction that he’s the only one that gets to experience this side of Will.
It’s perfect for about three days, and then of course Mike has to go fuck it up.
The universe must think that Mike hasn’t already given himself enough problems to deal with, so naturally now he can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to call Will those things back.
And this is new. He can’t really justify this as just something to help him feel safe because this isn’t about him anymore. It’s about Will, and his comfort.
Which makes sense; he does his best to rationalize it, he really does. If I like when he says things like that, it wouldn't be crazy that I want him to feel comfortable too.
And even though this is definitely true, it’s not the whole story.
Even he can’t fully convince himself.
Because at the end of the day, Mike can’t escape the fact that it’s still something he wants too. For whatever reason, no matter how he spins it, he’s actively hoping for it. And what’s worse is that he knows that he’s the only one.
So, like the loser he is, that’s exactly what he’s been thinking about for the past hour and a half: curled up on his side in the darkness with Will passed out asleep next to him, reaching for any reason possible as to why he could possibly want Will to call him “baby” and why he wants to say the same thing back. He’s gone back and forth more times than he can count by now, reasoning with himself as to why it really isnt a big deal- but then why does thinking that make him feel like the ceiling is collapsing on him?
Jesus Christ, Mike. He rolls over onto his back to stare at the ceiling. This is ridiculous. He’s very aware of his hands. You have to pull yourself together.
He gives himself to the count of three and peels back his blanket, conscious to not disturb Will as he shuffles to the bathroom. The door clicks shut behind him, and he bends forward to press his forehead to the cool countertop.
Fuck.
He stays like that until his neck starts to hurt, then straightens up and fumbles around in the darkness for the faucet.
The sound of water running does little to block out his thoughts.
What does it mean if I like it when my best friend calls me pet names, and I want to call him them back?
He knows the obvious answer, but that can’t be right because Mike likes girls. And more importantly, he doesn’t like guys.
Other than Will.
In a completely platonic, more-than-regular-friends, just best-friends-to-the-max kind of way.
Fuck.
Mike reaches for the light switch, hoping that the sudden brightness might do something to get him to snap out of it, but all it does is temporarily blind him and cause him to stub his toe on the sink cabinet.
The running water drowns out his yelp of pain.
His fingers wrap around the edge of the counter as he grips the granite and closes his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He does his best to calm down. Something about naming things he can see or hear or something like that- Will did it with him once after a nightmare, and it seemed to work pretty well. He opens his eyes, squinting at the brightness.
There’s a cabinet and a light switch. Mike’s gaze flickers upwards.
One of the lightbulbs won’t turn on. Mike makes a mental note to change it later, but part of him already knows it’s pointless. It’ll probably still be like that until next month. Or until Will brings it up and Mike remembers to do something about it.
Towel rack. Mirror.
His eyes dart down to his reflection and he’s slightly taken aback- his messy appearance is a remarkable physical manifestation of how he feels. His hair is a mess- frizzy and out of place; his lips are chapped from where he’s been absentmindedly biting them the past few days, and he looks like he hasn't slept in a week, which honestly checks out.
My hair looks terrible. Another fact. He does his best to run his fingers through it and make it look less messy but honestly he just makes it worse.
What else is new?
And that’s about as far as he gets before everything comes flooding back and Mike can’t escape the fact that, at its very core, this is all his own fault.
He’s always been told that he’s never satisfied with anything he’s received. He’s always the one wanting more. Always the one reaching for the thing he’ll never achieve. And he knows this is no different.
So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise to him that, of course, it was only a matter of time before his toxic mindset applied to Will too.
Because their friendship was always the one thing that Mike was confident was enough. The only thing he wouldn’t change a thing about.
And that still holds true- he wouldn’t trade the relationship that they have for anything.
But he can’t help that suddenly, for whatever reason, he just wants more.
And he’s tried; he really has. The past few days, he does everything he can to forget about it, to ignore the urge to brush Will’s hair out of his eyes while he’s drawing and return the favour every time Will holds him close after a nightmare and call him “my love”-
But Mike knows he’s helpless.
At the end of the day, Mike can’t help the fact that he’s selfish. He can’t help the fact that he still wants more.
And, most importantly, he can’t help the fact that he knows Will doesn’t.
He doesn’t know why the thought is so devastating. And suddenly it’s all so much and Mike is so, so confused at it all, and he really shouldn't have turned those lights on earlier and the sound of water hitting porcelain is so deafening and fuck, his toe still really hurts-
“Mike?” He jumps at the sound. Will’s voice is scratchy with sleep.
It takes a second for his brain to comprehend what’s happening, but once he does, his eyes grow wide. “Shit- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“No, you didn’t, don’t worry.” Will suddenly frowns as he glances behind Mike, taking in the still-running sink and the lingering expression on his face. “Are you ok?”
“Yep!” Will’s eyes narrow, and Mike mentally curses himself for his lack of acting skills. He quickly turns around to shut off the faucet. “It’s nothing.”
“Nightmare?”
Mike shakes his head. “Just can’t sleep.”
“Can I…do anything to help?”
“Uh…” Not unless you want to hear my full breakdown of all the ways I’ve fucked us up. “No, I don’t really think so, honestly,” Mike knows that logically he could say yes- Will would listen. But he really doesn’t even know where he would even start. And he can’t risk messing things up even more than he already has.
His heart twists. He tries for a normal smile but he already knows his expression falls flat. “I’m going to go to bed soon, anyway. I'm tired.”
Will doesn't push, thankfully, and when he doesn’t show any sign of moving Mike raises an eyebrow. “What are you doing up, anyway,”
“Oh, uh,” Will’s eyes flicker over towards the sink and he takes a mechanical step forward. “Water! I wanted water.”
“From the bathroom?”
“Convenience,” Will shrugs. And well, Mike knows he’s not good at telling when people are lying, but he also knows Will. It sort of evens out. He decides not to bring it up.
Will finishes filling the toothbrush cup they leave at the side of the sink and takes a long drink. Mike watches Will’s throat work as he swallows the water, then tears his eyes away once he realizes he’s probably been staring for a second too long.
It’s at that moment that Mike is suddenly aware of how dry his mouth is, his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth. He’s weighing the pros and cons of just shoving his face under the faucet and drinking directly from the sink when he realizes Will’s already refilled the cup, his arm outstretched to offer it to Mike.
“You’re always dehydrated. You need to drink more water.” He says as an explanation.
Mike can’t even argue with that, just reaches forward to accept. “Oh, thanks,”
Their fingertips brush, and Mike can’t explain the way he feels like every nerve ignites. Which is weird- they’re in each other's proximity all the time. It’s more common than not at this point, where legs tangle together when they watch movies, or they sit too close on the couch when they play board games- They naturally gravitate towards each other- it’s what they do.
So why does the simple brush of Will’s fingers suddenly make him feel like he’s been shocked?
The cup tumbles from his grip, and Mike watches as it falls in slow motion until Will’s foot rises up to connect with the cup. The water splashes everywhere: up the wall, all over the cabinets, all over Mike.
“Oh shit!” Will looks almost shocked at his own reflex.
“Why the fuck did you kick it,” Mike gasps between laughs.
“I don’t know!” Will kneels down and uses his hands to try and contain the water as much as possible.
“I don’t think that’s doing much,” Mike notes, even if it is just to get a rise out of Will. He’s already reaching for a towel.
“I’m aware, Mike,” He can practically see Will’s eye roll from here. “Can you-”
“Get a towel?” He drops two washcloths floor and kneels down to help. “Add mind reading to my list of talents,” and Will scoffs and starts drying off the wall as Mike works on the cabinets.
“Also, what’s up with the light?” Mike groans and waves his hand in dismissal.
“I’ll deal with it later,”
“So you’ll deal with it never.” Will corrects him, peeling his eyes away from the wall to smile at Mike. It’s only then that Will glances down at his shirt and sees the giant dark water stain, and his eyes grow wide.
“Oh shit! Is that from…”
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you kick water onto me.”
“I’m sorry!” And he really does look serious for a second, before a smug grin crosses his face, “I just have better reflexes, I guess.” Mike uses his free hand to shove his shoulder as he stands.
Will takes over mopping up the last of the water and Mike moves towards the sink, twisting his head under the faucet to takes a long drink.
“Shouldn’t you just use the cup?” Will looks up at him from the floor.
“Not after that, I shouldn’t,” he gestures to the floor and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. “Besides, I can’t use the cup for this!”
“Mike!” Will whisper screeches and recoils as Mike scoops a handful water from the sink and flings it at Will, his face such a bewildered look of betrayal that Mike can’t help laughing.
“Payback for drenching me earlier.”
Will jumps up, giggling as he clamps his hand over Mike’s mouth to stifle his laughter. “Shh, you’re gonna wake everyone!”
“Says the one kicking cups of water!” He says through Will’s fingers.
“Shut up!”
“Make me.” He means it as a joke, but there’s a dangerous glint in Will’s eyes and he remembers that Will is not one to ever back down from a challenge.
Will’s face is suddenly dangerously close to his. “Maybe I will, sweetheart.”
It really is dangerous, how much power Will has now, equipped with words that he knows will get a reaction from Mike.
Mike’s eyes grow wide and he freezes, and he knows there’s no mistaking the blush that has undoubtedly risen to his face. But Will takes the opportunity to run his hand under the faucet, whirling around to splash a handful of water in his face.
Mike jerks back out of Will’s grip, “Will!” But Will’s already gone from the bathroom, still holding the dripping wet towel he used for the floor. “Oh, I see how it is” Mike fumbles to turn off the faucet and grab his own towel before following Will out the door.
Mike can still hear him laughing from where he ducked down behind the couch.
“Will,” he sings as he inches closer, his towel dripping water onto the floor. “You can’t hide from me,”
Will leaps up and slashes through the air with his towel- wielding it like some weird, dripping wet pair of nunchucks.
Mike ducks and then attacks back, both of them swinging at each other over the couch, drops of water flying everywhere and soaking their shirts until-
Will makes a dangerously fast swipe and it connects with Mike’s shirt with a wet splat. He makes a wounded noise, feigning being stabbed as he faints backwards and tumbles over the back of the couch.
He grabs his side and groans in mock pain, coughing a few times for good measure. Will stands over him, hands taking the shape of claws as he does his best attempt at an evil laugh. It’s kind of bad, if Mike’s being honest, but he’s on his deathbed so he can’t really comment.
“Any last words?” Will brandishes his towel like a sword.
“Yes,” Mike croaks out, closing his eyes. “If I’m going, you are too!” He manages one last attempt to take Will down with him, balling up the towel and throwing it, and it hits him square in the chest.
“Noooo,” Will wails, clutching his chest and staggering backward before collapsing next to Mike. “Damn, we both died.”
They both burst into giggles, both of their shirts soaked through and Mike can only guess that Will’s as cold as he is right now. But it’s perfect and Mike wouldn’t trade this moment for the world. They catch their breath, and Mike tries to unstick his shirt from where it’s plastered to his skin.
“Oh, also,” Will turns to him, his face turning serious for a second and Mike freezes. A shit eating grin spreads across Will’s face, “I think the light in the bathroom is broken.”
Mike groans and smacks him again with the towel. “Yeah, I’m aware.” The corner of Will’s mouth turns upward and he turns back
“Worry about it tomorrow, love.” And oh Mike melts at that. He soon settles back into the couch, humming his agreement as he goes back to staring at the ceiling.
It’s remarkable, how quickly Will was able to turn his mood around. His head falls backward onto the couch and he can’t help the smile that crosses his face. He can’t even remember why he was so panicked earlier because of course Will wouldn’t make him feel like he’s too much. It’s Will. They understand each other like no one else could.
And this is enough. At least here, now, with Will next to him. It’s enough.
He feels like he’s enough.
And it might be because he’s tired and his brain isn’t fully operational at the moment. It might be because he’s feeling brave, with Will by his side. Hell, it might be just because it’s Will.
But he knows what he wants, and even though he can’t figure out exactly why he wants it, that’s a problem for later him to deal with.
So, before he can think about it any further, he shifts his position and lowers his head on Will’s shoulder. “Yeah, we’ll worry about it tomorrow, baby.”
He can tell the moment the word registers in Will’s mind by the way his breath falters for just a split second, and Mike can’t help the sudden wave of panic that hits him because maybe he’s just made a terrible, terrible mistake and oh god-
But then Will relaxes, his arm reaching up to comb through Mike’s hair, and Mike releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.
The world doesn’t explode. Will doesn’t push him off and tell him he was being too much; in fact, Will seems to lean in closer to him- his fingers still brushing through his hair.
And the world is back in balance.
And it’s all enough.
Mike closes his eyes and for once, he doesn’t question why he wants to stay here forever.