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The first time Mike and Bill held hands was probably one of their many encounters with the evils of Derry, running and jumping, blood mixing from the cuts of thrown rocks, but the first time Mike took notice of was the night he and Bill, in his first visit to Bill's sprawling house, had raided the liquor cabinet.
He's still married, Mike reminded himself as he'd watched Bill's shapely ass, encased in blue denim, go for another bottle. As long as Bill was still married, everything would be fine. This chemistry was just platonic, the way it should be.
Bill stumbled on the way back to the couch. Mike jumped up, visions of Bill somehow surviving an intergalactic murder clown but killing himself on a broken bottle (losers being losers to the end...) flooding his mind. He caught Bill, and, to Bill's bleary-eyed, grinning relief, the bottle.
It took a few minutes for both men to realize they were staring at each other, breathing hard, holding hands. It only took a few seconds for Mike to see that Bill was no longer wearing his wedding ring.
That made him very, very nervous.
-
The nerves were soon overtaken by the...intensity of their feelings when they were alone together. Mike had always liked Bill - if he was being honest with himself he'd always liked Bill - but never with this yearning. There'd always been too many promises to keep and plans to make. What threw him more was he was pretty sure Bill had never looked at him this way, a way that made Mike feel he wasn't just a part of the group, or even just a close friend, but a man - the only man Bill could see or wanted to see. Sometimes Bill would stare at him, and smile. They'd always laugh, nervous laughs forced for lack of better options, but Mike wasn't sure how many more times he could laugh the moments off.
The first time he tried to stop seeing Bill, who was still wrangling through a divorce and had deadlines on top of deadlines, was after that last mutual laugh had led Bill to blush like he'd been rolled in strawberries. He was a puppy, with shining eyes. Mike was...fucked up. More fucked up than someone with Bill's trauma needed. He'd get hurt, over and over and over.
He stopped answering texts, calls, or just gave brief answers, for probably a week. It had left him feeling like absolute shit, but that was nothing new.
One day, he was on a Skype with Beverly and Ben, showing off their new puppy, rescued in a rainstorm.
Bill was standing at the edge of the screen, staring at Mike forlornly, eyes bloodshot. Mike wasn't narcissistic enough to think he was the main cause - Bill had his heart on his tear ducts - but he realized he probably hadn't helped. And no matter how many times Ben had little Frank wave his paw to the camera, Mike was more focused on the puppy who'd captured his own heart.
"You got anything to say?" Mike had finally asked the man nervously staring down at his usual flannel shirt, teasing, his voice deeper than he'd planned.
"Oh so you're finally talking to me again, Mikey," Bill beamed, walking over to the camera, staring straight into it in the most awkward fashion.
"I sure am, Billy," Mike replied, intended as sarcastic, but so sickeningly sweet even to his own ears that he wasn't surprised to see Beverly, Ben, and he was pretty sure even Frank trying not to book them a wedding chapel right then and there.
-
"You're doing whore things, Bill. So just...let your whore out!"
Bill wasn't sure what Richie was talking about, but then he never knew what Richie was talking about. They'd all been together - the five of them (it still made Bill's eyes well up when he almost said seven) - laying on the ground at some outdoor concert Richie had insisted they go to - some old rock group on their last tour and their last legs. It was a concert in the park, so they'd been able to lose another bit of their hearing while also ruining their best jeans on the wet grass.
No, actually, Bill had had fun, although he'd spent most of his time laughing with Mike. And, apparently, had sat between Mike's open legs, with Mike's head rested on his shoulder (just a few times - probably) and Mike's arms around his waist (just a few times - probably).
Bill didn't know why that was being a whore, or why being a whore was supposed to be anything bad, but he did know Richie meant well. He just didn't really want to talk about it or hear it. He liked Mike, but he was at a weird time in his life, just divorced, churning his way through a book contract he was desperate to get out of, thinking of selling the house that still had Audra's throw covers everywhere. And he still hadn't processed Georgie, or Stan, or Eddie, or his parents...or so many things. Mike shouldn't have to deal with that.
"You're thinking again. Stop it."
Richie was tap-tap-tapping against Bill's temple, and doing a nerd voice.
"Y-you st-st-stop it!" Bill shouted, pushing Richie's hand away.
The anger and fear in his voice surprised them both, so Richie dropped the act, and was as serious as Bill had seen him in a long time.
"Don't fuck it up like yours truly, Big Bill. Tell Mike now...before..."
Bill pulled his friend into a tight hug, their tears finishing what neither could say out loud.
-
Their first kiss was before their first date.
They actually hadn't had a first date. Or any date.
Mike was in town again, working as a researcher for Bill's book. Mike was smart, committed, and knew how to dig through every corner, so Bill told himself it wasn't just a way to get to spend a few more weeks with Mike before he went back to Florida.
They'd cracked open some dusty library relic about an hour before closing time. Bill wiped his mouth and nose, reaching out to do the same for Mike, touching his face, his mouth, without thinking.
His hand froze as he stared. There was something in Mike's eyes Bill had seen glimpses of but now was there fully, all defenses worn down by six hours in a stuffy room on a hot summer day.
Mike cupped his chin, their foreheads pressed together, sweat in their eyes and mouths, heavy breaths drowning out the rest of the world.
Bill licked his lips, and that seemed to be what did it, because that was when Mike kissed him, soft, scared. Bill had whimpered - yes, honest-to-god whimpered, his mouth opening to taste Mike's tongue.
Bill just felt Mike's big hand cupping his ass when they heard the loudspeaker announcement for closing in 15 minutes.
Bill coughed, licked his lips again, grinned like the idiot he was, and basked in the dark gleam in Mike's eyes.
-
The first time Bill wore one of Mike's t-shirts was the usual story - laundry day. While Mike never seemed to mind Bill going around shirtless (or pantsless), Bill was still a bit shy. He and Audra hadn't even had sex with the lights on.
Bill knew he was swimming in Mike's grey Henley, but it felt comfortable. It felt right.
Mike, after a few hours in the garden that was quickly coming to mean more to him than it ever had to Bill or to Audra, had walked in looking at him with what Bill could only classify as heart eyes.
By the time Bill straddled Mike's waist, the Henley, and most of their other garments, were on the kitchen floor.
-
The first time Mike and Bill said "I love you" had been over a phone call, devastated and numbed and disbelieving after the final battle against Pennywise.
They'd never said it since - not because they weren't in love with each other, but because there had to be a right time, a perfect moment.
Life had taught them the only perfect was getting through every day, but they didn't want to live that way, let chaos and fear guide them.
The day Mike had to go back to Florida, a weeks-long visit that had stretched for the better part of a year, to the point where his apartment-sitting friend probably had his name forged on the lease, was the closest to perfect.
"I-I w-want...to g-go with...with you," Bill managed, his head resting in the middle of Mike's broad chest. He wasn't able to look Mike in the eye, scared of rejection, or worse - obligation. "D-Don't wanna l-lose you."
Mike, surprised at the comments, and almost surprised at just how much they meant to him, ran his hand through Bill's thinning hair.
"This is such a beautiful house. Why would you - "
Bill propped himself up on his elbows, staring right at Mike.
"R-Richie's sick of LA, so h-he can rent out."
Mike laughed at the idea of anyone leaving their home in the care of Richie Tozier, but he ran his thumb over Bill's cheek.
"You sure? My shitty apartment?"
Bill nodded.
Mike could see the need, the passion, the excitement for a new chapter, in Bill's face, still so sweet and innocent somehow, after everything.
"Y-you are m-my home, Mikey."
Mike smiled, softly, fondly, Bill even more angelic through the tears brimming his eyes.
"You're so corny, baby. And I...I love you."
Bill leaned down to kiss Mike, tender and sweet.
"I-love you."
Mike wrapped Bill up tight in his arms, the security Bill had always needed but felt he never deserved.
As both men drifted off, there was, for the first time, no fear, no nightmares, no worries.
For the last time, Mike Hanlon and Bill Denbrough knew what it was like to feel unloved or alone.