Work Text:
Will Byers was ready for 1989 to be over, and it hadn’t even started yet. He sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall in his family’s living room. Its hands were at roughly 11:30PM, but everyone was already beginning to fade. The bottles of champagne they’d pooled their cash for and convinced Joyce to buy for them were all but tapped—one remained to be uncorked at midnight.
Lucas and Max were having a soft conversation to his right, Max on Lucas’s lap eating a leftover Christmas cookie. She was the only person not imbibing, having been recruited, as usual, to ferry Lucas, Dustin, and Jane to and from the Byler residence. It never came as any surprise to Will that Max eschewed alcohol. They were both intimately familiar with the way it could turn loved ones into violent shadows of themselves.
Mike shifted next to him, pressing their thighs together on the sofa in a way that made his heart skip a beat. Will had spent some years agonizing over his feelings for Mike, but after he’d pushed past his own reticence about liking guys, he just came to accept the inevitability. He didn’t have many people to compare notes with, but he felt pretty confident that if the average young gay man had an attractive best friend who lavished them with affection and a seemingly limitless level of devotion, they’d fall in love, too.
If he stared too closely or hugs lasted a few beats too long, he wasn’t hurting anyone. (Except, perhaps, his own emotional well being.) The dating pool for people like himself in Hawkins was more akin to a puddle and he barely had space inside his head and heart for someone new—so long as Mike was taking up the majority of the prime real estate.
His thoughts were interrupted when Dustin laughed, loudly, a sound that always surprised Jane a little bit. Her eyes widened but she smiled, watching him with a curious expression. Dustin picked up a sparkler from a plastic bag on the floor, as he continued to explain the chemical reactions that made the beautiful lights and colours.
“Anyway, you’ll see for yourself in just a bit,” Dustin said, an edge of excitement in his voice. Jane made a small noise of agreement, turning the bottle rocket in her fingers over.
“Okay,” Dustin announced, slapping his hands against his knees. “T-minus 30 minutes until the new year. Let’s go around the room and say our resolutions.”
Lucas groaned. “Come on, Dustin, that’s like… Shit that our parents do on New Year’s.”
“We can be sophisticated!” He insisted.
“Resolutions?” Jane said uncertainly, glancing from Lucas to Dustin.
“It’s like a promise you make to yourself, for the next year,” Mike offered.
“Or like a wish,” Dustin added.
“Wish,” Jane echoed.
“I’ll go first,” Dustin said, in a reassuring voice. “My resolution for 1989 is… To get into MIT.” Lucas nodded his approval. “What about you, El?”
“Finish school,” she said after a moment.
“Get my driver’s license,” Lucas said firmly. Dustin laughed. “What? It’s not my fault they keep failing me during the driving test.” Dustin’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t worry, I’ll help you practice,” Max said with a grin.
“Yeah, I don’t know if that will really help,” Dustin interjected.
“Hey, I’m a great driver, asshole. If you think otherwise, you’re free to walk home tonight.”
“Hey, hey, that’s not what I’m saying, just, you know. It’s the same reason you guys always do worse on a test you study for together,” Dustin said, before making obnoxious kissing sounds.
“He’s not wrong,” Lucas said, wincing when Max punched his arm.
“What about you, Mikey?” Dustin asked, turning to Will and Mike.
“Don’t really have one,” Mike said with a shrug.
“What about being less moody?” Dustin offered. Mike responded with an extremely exaggerated eye roll.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a teenage rite of passage to be moody, Dustin,” Will said, not taking his eyes off Mike’s face. Mike stuck his tongue out at him before smiling.
“What about you, Will?”
“Um. Get the hell out of Hawkins, probably.”
“Aww,” Dustin said softly, feigning hurt.
“You don’t love us any more, Will?” Lucas simpered.
“Yes, I specifically want to get away from all of you.” Next to him, Mike clutched his chest and gasped before laughing.
“I understand,” Jane said softly, looking Will in the eye. He smiled at her.
They chatted for a few more moments before Dustin glanced up at the clock.
“Shit, we should start setting up the fireworks,” he said, looking over at Lucas. “You guys wanna help?” he asked, turning to Will and Mike.
“I’m going for a smoke,” Will announced to a small round of booing. Will rolled his eyes.
“I’ll join you,” Mike offered, pulling a cigarette from a pack in his shirt pocket and placing it between his lips.
“Thanks, guys. Real helpful,” Dustin grumbled, grabbing the bags at his feet.
“I’ll help,” Jane offered. Dustin shared a no-longer-toothless grin with her.
As they stepped outside, Max, Lucas, Dustin and Jane continued out onto the snowy lawn while Mike and Will lingered on the porch, leaning on the railing. Mike offered to light Will’s cigarette and he leaned forward obediently into the flame, thanking Mike when he was done.
Mike and Will had always had a tactile relationship, but something had changed recently. Three weeks prior Mike had walked Will home from school, the ground at last too treacherous with half frozen snow and packed ice for cycling. Will had slipped—a not uncommon occurrence, as his hand-me-down boots from Jonathan were a couple sizes too large.
Mike had caught him by the elbow, hoisting him back up and taking his hand, helping him steady himself. But he hadn’t let go. They’d walked the remaining distance to the Byers’s home hand in hand, fingers laced together. When they arrived, they’d settled in to read the week’s latest issues of The Amazing Spiderman and Wolverine shoulder to shoulder, despite ample room on the living room sofa to spread out.
Since then Will had felt—or perhaps just imagined—that hugs with Mike lasted a little longer, embraces were a little tighter, words spoken a little closer. It wasn’t the first time he’d fantasized about the tables turning and Mike suddenly wanting something more than just friendship. Even if it wasn’t true, at least it gave him something warm to daydream about as another frigid Indiana winter set in.
Mike had succeeding in lighting his own cigarette, despite the wind (and no assistance from Will) and as he exhaled Will wrinkled his nose.
“Mike… That’s not tobacco,” he said, amused. Mike laughed.
“Don’t worry about it, Will.” Will snorted.
“Oh, I won’t. Trust me, your sister has smoked weed in front of me more often than you have.”
“What, really? Nance?” Mike laughed again, wiping his eyes. “I guess she gets it from Jonathan.”
“Think it’s the other way around,” Will murmured, smiling as he took another drag from his cigarette.
“Want some?” Mike asked, turning the joint toward him. Will shook his head.
“It makes me cough.” Mike shrugged.
“I could shotgun you. Makes the smoke softer.”
Will set his jaw. “Uh, sure,” he managed after a moment. Mike took a long drag before leaning toward him. Will’s mouth opened and his head tilted to the side instinctively, breathing in as Mike breathed out. The taste of the weed was somewhere between skunk and cypress, gently masked by the tobacco and the slightest hint of Mike.
Will leaned back and blinked a few times, feeling slightly lightheaded as he held the smoke in before releasing it in a long breath. He reached up to touch his lips, slightly moist with saliva.
“Sorry,” Mike said sheepishly. “I slobbered on you a little.” Will shivered at the sensation of Mike’s thumb running across his bottom lip, the hard keratin of his thumbnail dragging across the sensitive skin.
He could hear Dustin and Lucas start shouting a 30-second countdown on the front lawn. Mike ashed his joint and smiled at Will, knocking their shoulders together.
“What?” Will asked with a small smile.
“Nothin’.” Mike answered nonchalantly, taking another drag. Will hummed and did the same.
He heard Dustin and Lucas reach the 10-second mark and sighed.
“I’m ready for the eighties to end,” Will murmured. Mike nodded along, watching Dustin frantically lighting his litany of bottle rockets, plunged in a line into the lawn. The first couple took off with a shower of sparks and burst, the sound echoing through the clearing in front of the house. Max made a small noise of delight and Jane clapped, transfixed.
“Happy New Year!” Dustin howled, igniting a roman candle. Will watched as Max and Lucas embraced and smiled in spite of himself. He was about to turn to say something to Mike when he felt him suddenly lurch forward and plant a clumsy kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“Happy New Year,” Mike said softly. Will blinked rapidly.
“Um,” Will began, blood rushing in his ears. “Happy New Year,” he managed after a moment.
“Sorry,” Mike said quickly, “I should have asked.”
“No, no, it’s—I liked it. It’s fine.” He licked his lips. “You missed, though.” Mike laughed.
“Yeah?”
“You can try again. If you want,” Will amended, biting the inside of his cheek. Mike stubbed out his joint on the porch railing, straightening up and leaning closer. Their noses bumped together awkwardly and Will laughed.
“One more try,” Mike said in a whisper that made Will’s hair stand on end.
Their lips connected at last and it was suddenly perfect, like when the head of a match finally strikes and ignites. Will took in a deep breath through his nose. A warm sensation flooded his senses as he felt Mike’s hand move against his cheek, sliding along his jawline and behind his head, fingers running through the soft hair at the base of his skull.
Mike pulled away after a moment to catch his breath, but his hand stayed in place, keeping Will close. They stared at each other for a few beats before Will surged forward, throwing his arms around Mike and kissing him again. Mike suppressed a laugh, likely startled by his sudden enthusiasm. Will pulled back.
“Sorry,” he whispered, breathless.
“It’s cool. I liked it,” Mike said softly, smiling as he covered Will’s lips with his own again.
Will Byers never wanted 1989 to end, and it had only just begun.