Work Text:
Sharing a joint with Will Byers was not how Mike Wheeler expected to spend his California vacation.
Mike had watched people smoke before of course, but nothing prepares him for the ball of nerves swelling in his chest as he holds the perfectly rolled joint between his fingertips. Eleven will kill him if she finds out, not that she even could being god knows where. Mike briefly wonders if she even knows what drugs are.
They’re supposed to be searching for her, but as incredible as Argyle is, he does not have the ability to drive on zero hours of sleep. All sense of urgency went out the window as the crew’s eyelids fell heavy and yawns became more frequent. It was the sort of tired you felt after realising just how long you’ve been in fight or flight.
Mike wonders where they even stand, him and Eleven. It’s obvious he cares for her, with all they’ve been through. So what if he signs his letters with “from Mike?”. Choosing to ignore his lack of experience, he settles on the conclusion that girls could be so frustrating sometimes, that was all.
He pays no attention to any feelings of relief, which he definitely does not have.
“Holy shit Will”, Mike remarks, careful to hide the shakiness in his voice, “Where the fuck did you learn to do this?” Mike hopes his stalling will delay the inevitable, because how the fuck do you even light a joint?
“Jonathan taught me to help with...”, he takes a deep breath, “...anxiety and all that”.
Mike frowns. He hates that Will is reluctant to share with him. He longs for the nights they’d stay up together watching movies they’ve seen a thousand times over. Days spent planning the next dungeons and dragons campaign for the party.
Mike resents the upside down for taking that away from him, from them all. He would never be okay with Will's childhood being stripped from him like it was nothing. How could such terrible things happen to any kid, especially Will Byers.
Mike’s spiral is interrupted by Will’s small voice,
“So are we going to do this or not?”
Mike nods. He is painfully aware of his clammy hands dampening the paper held delicately between his fingers. They are sitting on the roof of the van, voices kept to a whisper so as to not disturb Jonathan and Argyle. The breeze nips at both boys' skin, but they don’t dare move.
Mike pulls his knees to his chest, “I'm going to be honest, I have no idea what I'm doing.”
Will lets out a small laugh, causing mike’s stupidly emotional heart to flutter. Hanging his head low, he laughs along with Will. Here he was about to get high with his best friend, and he was too scared to light the fucking joint. Mike has to admire the absurdity of it all. He doesn’t even know how to inhale properly, what an idiot.
“If you want to we can try shotgunning, only if you’re okay with it though” Will blurts out.
Mike decides against pretending to know what that was, instead shooting Will a quizzical look.
“I mean I heard it can help first timers, my first time was rough. Basically, i’ll inhale and then breathe it into your mouth,” he explains while avoiding eye contact.
Mike is struck by the thought of Will breathing smoke into his mouth, causing him to freeze up. He considers the offer, the gears in his brain working to come up with a reasonable answer. He can’t seem to find anything wrong with a friend simply helping out another friend. The butterflies in his stomach are obviously just anticipation.
“Let's do it,” Mike says with newfound confidence as he passes the joint to Will.
“Okay then,” Will huffs, surprise evident in his soft features. They are really doing this.
Mike stares in awe as Will brings the joint towards his lips, cupping his hands to shield the light from the wind. sparks come to life, turning the paper to embers as he takes a long drag. if Will notices Mike staring, he doesn’t make note of it. Being this close, it’s almost overwhelming to Mike, and before he knows it they are inches apart. Eyes locked, all Mike can focus on is the boy directly in front of him, creating a vacuum within his personal space.
“Mike.”
“What.”
“You have to inhale.”
“Oh.”
oh
Heat rises to his cheeks, dusting them a shade of pink. How did he manage to fuck up the only instruction he was given? The last strands of smoke disperse from Will's lips and disappear into the night air above.
Mike is an idiot.
“It’s okay, sorry for suggesting-”, will’s meek voice is cut off by mike’s own.
“no, I’m sorry, I’m stupid,” he spluttered. Mike doesn’t want Will to feel bad on behalf of his incompetence.
“Let's try again shall we?” He says, praying Will doesn’t see through his effort to appear nonchalant.
Mike's gaze shifts towards Will's lips, which just moments ago were millimeters away from his own, and then back up to his eyes. They exhibit a far away look Mike could only attribute to the weed. it must already be kicking in. Jesus christ he does not know how this stuff works.
Will, slower than before, takes another drag from the burning joint and leans it. This time, Mike doesn’t forget to inhale as Will advances. Hot smoke glides down his throat and occupies the space within his lungs. For a brief moment, Will's lips brush against Mike's own, just long enough to convince Mike he wasn’t imagining it.
oh fuck
“See, that wasn’t so bad-” Will speaks too soon as he’s immediately interrupted by Mike’s coughing fit. Mike feels like his lungs are on fire, the heat spreading to his throat with every exhale. He tries to swallow to counter the effect but his mouth seems to be void of any moisture.
teary eyed, Mike gives Will a sheepish smile. If it was anyone else, Mike would want to curl into a ball of embarrassment, but this was Will. Sweet, understanding Will. Up on that van roof, it felt like just Mike and Will against the world. Mike thinks he’d be okay with that.
He feels it in his head first, a heaviness that comes in waves and washes his brain of worry and doubt. A system reset. Mike isn’t the biggest fan of how dumb he feels right now, but he still has enough perception skills to notice Will pressed against his side. He knows it's probably due to the cold, but a small, selfish part of him wishes it wasn’t. The weed takes hold of Mike's eyelids next, as they become increasingly weighted. He takes a deep breath, feeling much calmer now that he’s regained the ability to breathe.
“You okay?” asks Will, trying not to break into a massive grin. At this moment, everything seems insignificant to mike. His silly little life is almost laughable. His girlfriend, a girl with fucking telekinesis who he fought for his town with, he isn’t even sure he loves. He never thought he’d ever admit that to himself, but here he was.
“This is fucked Will. what the fuck. Do you know what I couldn't say to El? It was “I love you”. who can’t say “I love you” to their fucking girlfriend?” Exclaims Mike, hands frantically waving in the cool night air.
Will, for some reason, thinks this is the funniest thing in the world. His laughter always manages to soften Mike's sharp edges, and soon he’s laughing along with him. He doesn’t notice Will's fingers entwining with his until he glances down. Will's hands are toasty against his cold ones, warmth spreading up his arm and making him feel dizzy.
“Shut up”. Mike gives Will a gentle nudge before glancing back at the boy next to him. The moonlight illuminates his familiar features and Mike has never felt more at home. Will takes another drag from the joint and leans in. This time Mike leans in too. When Will's lips meet his own, he doesn’t freeze. Without hesitation, he presses his lips against Will’s as he inhales the smoke. Both boys pull away, searching each others eyes for confirmation that the line they were crossing between best friends to something more was an acceptable line to cross.
The realisation that there was never a line hit Mike like a truck. Mike and Will, Will and Mike, it's always been the two of them, how could he not see it? Maybe Mike was not as observant as he thought.
After all, kissing Will Byers was not how Mike Wheeler expected to spend his California vacation.