angelfigures
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Summary
“Just saying, if you’re taking another hit, you should share it with me,” Mike says, and Will slowly tilts his head, drinking in every word. “It just makes sense. Like, mathematically.”
Will’s reddened eyes narrow, bewildered. “Mathematically?”
“If there’s two hits left, we’d each only get one,” Mike explains. “But if we shotgunned, we’d both get two.” God, this is the best idea he’s had in ages. He should’ve stolen Will’s weed, like, months ago. “That’s like, bang for your buck. This is simple math, Will Byers. Keep up.”
In which it’s well past midnight in New York, Will can’t sleep, and Mike feels like they barely know each other anymore.
So, they get a little high. Mike is very normal about all of it.
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At first, Mike was unsure how to approach him when he got like this. But they’ve been living together for months now, never further than five feet apart in their dorm beds, so Mike’s learned what works and what doesn’t.
It works when he wakes Will like this, with gentle hands and words, telling him he’s safe. It works when he climbs into Will’s warm bed, turning him on his side and curling up against his back, an arm over his waist and his cheek pressed against his shoulder. They lie together like that until Will’s hiccupping gasps soften into steady breaths, until Mike feels him go limp in his arms and he knows he’s fallen back asleep. It always works.
or: Will has nightmares and Mike is the only one who can console him. Not even Will's boyfriend can. Mike takes great pride in this fact.
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Approximately four hours ago, Will had snapped, fear and anger clouding his mind when he saw the people he loved in danger. Approximately four hours ago, Will had let the darkness in him seep out for all to see, obliterating the monsters who threatened to hurt his friends. To hurt Mike.
Approximately four hours ago, Will had nearly lost him. He hadn’t quite come to terms with that yet.
AKA Mike being a nerd while Will spirals and overthinks things for over 6000 words straight
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It’s winter in Hawkins, and Mike and Will aren’t speaking anymore. Living in Mike’s house, Will tries to be invisible, spending most of his time in the basement.
Then the power goes out — and if there’s one thing he dreads more than facing Mike, it’s the cold.
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Seven nights in which Mike and Will have to sleep in the same bed, even though they’re barely friends anymore.
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Summary
Robin leaned closer, voice gentle. “All I’m saying is, it’s okay to like him. And it’s also extremely, painfully obvious.”
Will froze. “…to who?”
Robin’s grin stretched slow and wicked. “Only to me. Because I understand. He doesn’t know, don’t worry. Because that boy? Dense. Like, heroically dense. Historically dense. Scientists are going to study him.”
Will huffed, cheeks burning. Will’s eyes darted involuntarily to the centre of the room. Max and El were squished together on an armchair. Mike was sprawled on the carpet with Dustin and Lucas, waving his arms around dramatically as he argued about which Star Wars film was objectively the best. His hair was a mess. His cheeks were flushed. He was smiling.
And Will felt that stupid expanding warmth in his chest that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard he tried.
💕💕💕💕
Post-Vecna, Will and Robin continue to bond. Robin knows Will likes Mike. Mike thinks Will likes Robin.
One jealousy spiral, several misunderstandings, and a lot of pining later… they finally kiss.