Archive of Our Own

Mike is dying.

Okay, he's not dying, he's just- very ill is all. He feels like he's overheating and is mind-blowingly cold all at the same time, and the soup his mother brought him an hour ago only made his stomach churn, so he's resorted to burrowing under the covers and feeling sorry for himself.

There's a knock at the door, and Mike groans.

"Go away," he croaks, aiming for a shout but landing somewhere significantly more pitiful. His mom has been checking on him every twenty minutes all day, and he thinks if he has to look into her wide, overprotective eyes one more time, he might actually, literally die.

The door creaks open, and Mike squeezes his eyes shut. "Go away," he repeats. "I'm tryna sleep."

"Hmm. That's not a very nice way to talk to the love of your life," a voice murmurs, and Mike immediately pops his head out from under the covers. Will smirks at him, arms folded. "Hi."

"Hi," Mike whispers, eyes wide. "What're you doing here?"

"Well," Will says gently, sitting down on the edge of Mike's bed and placing a soft hand on his back, rubbing gentle circles over it. "You weren't at school." He leans over, setting his bag on the floor, and Mike takes the opportunity to tangle a hand in Will's shirt, pulling him close. Will smiles and kisses the top of his head. "So I called here," he continues, carding a hand through Mike's hair. "And your mom said you were sick, so I decided to come over."

"Is school over already?" Mike asks, leaning over to squint at the clock on his nightstand. 

"Uh, yes," Will says, quickly reaching out and turning the clock facedown.

Mike frowns at him. "Liar. Did you cut class?"

"Just eighth period! It's my elective."

"Yeah, which is art, which is the only class you actually like-"

"Mike." Mike cuts himself off, relaxing as Will places a cool hand on his cheek. It's October, and Will's cheeks are pink from the cold- he'd presumably biked over here from school. Mike leans into Will's touch despite himself, enjoying the chill against his overheated skin. "It's okay," Will murmurs, leaning over to kiss Mike's temple. "I'd rather be here with you."

"Will," Mike whines, reluctantly pulling away from Will and rolling over. "I'm gonna get you sick."

"Don't care," Will says happily, flopping the rest of the way down on the bed, wrapping his arms around Mike and clinging to him. Mike laughs, twisting around to press his forehead against Will's.

"You sure?" Mike asks, even as he kisses the tip of Will's nose.

"Mhm," Will says, pulling Mike into his chest. Mike buries his face in Will's sweater, and Will laughs, kissing the top of his head. "How are you feeling?"

"Shitty," Mike groans, slipping his hands under Will's sweater and pressing them against his skin. "My whole body is on fire. But, like- icy fire. Like- dry ice. That's a thing, right?"

Will laughs again, and Mike can feel the rumble of it from where he's all curled up against Will. "Sure, Mike." His hand, which has been tangled in Mike's hair, moves to press against Mike's forehead. "You definitely have a fever, though."

"Yeah, I noticed," Mike grumbles. "It's really annoying."

Will snorts. "You're annoying."

"Well, you're here with me, so what does that say about you?" Mike retorts, removing his face from Will's chest to blink up at him.

Will grins. "Touché." He brushes his thumb over the space under Mike's eye, smiling down at him. "Hey, I brought you your homework assignments. Got them before I left school."

Mike makes a face. "Gee, what would I do without you?"

"Fail school, probably," Will retorts, no malice behind it.

"Yeah, probably," Mike agrees reluctantly, tangling his fingers through Will's. "Is it bad?"

"No, just a math assignment and that lab you never finished for Physics."

Mike nods, feigning contemplation. "Right, right. And, hypothetically, how much do we think my grades would drop if I didn't turn either of those in?"

Will rolls his eyes. "I'll help you with them, how's that?"

"You're terrible at math, though," Mike mutters.

"Hey! Fine, I won't help you, then."

Mike grins all teeth. "Sorry."

"I forgive you."

"Yeah, I know." Mike goes back to hiding in Will's neck, breathing him in, stuffy nose be damned. "I love you," he mumbles.

"Love you too, baby," Will whispers back, tugging Mike closer.

Okay. So maybe Mike's not dying, after all.

Mike wakes up hours later in a cold sweat, sheets tangled all around him. His head is pounding. He groans, and somewhere beside him, a Will-shaped mass shifts.

Mike smiles a little despite himself. "Hey," he mumbles, opening his eyes and rolling over to face his boyfriend. "You're still here."

Will leans over to kiss his forehead. "Of course I am."

"What time's it?"

"Almost eight. You missed dinner, but I'll make you soup or something if you want."

Mike groans, flopping backward and casting a dramatic arm over his eyes. "No soup. I can't."

Will rolls his eyes, reaching out to flick the side of Mike's face lightly. "Toast, then."

"Yeah, that works."

"Mkay. I'll be right back." Will kisses Mike's temple, climbing over him. 

"Thank you," Mike murmurs, reaching out a hand. Will takes it and squeezes quickly before stepping away, letting Mike's fingers drag across his own before he drops his arm. 

Mike burrows back under the covers, hiding away from the cold air and wishing his skin didn't feel so tight on his body. He hates being sick, and he knows that he's a baby about it but he can't help it- there's something unknowably awful about one's body just quitting on you. Mike thinks he's only being reasonable, actually- it's everyone else that is too normal about the whole thing.

Will returns five minutes later, plate in hand, and Mike immediately squawks and reaches for him.

"Mike!" Will yelps as he tugs him down onto the bed. "I'm gonna drop your food."

Mike doesn't respond, just pulling Will further down on top of him and kissing his neck. Will is warmer now than he was when he first arrived, Mike's warmth soaking up the chill of the autumn air, but Mike can't bring himself to mind.

"Mike," Will tries again as Mike hooks his arms firmly around his waist, pinning him down. "C'mon, eat your toast."

Mike groans, but obediently sits up and lets Will squirm away enough to hand him his plate. He takes a bite of toast, making a face, and Will smiles commiseratively, patting his knee. "You'll feel better in the morning," he says softly.

Mike frowns at him, disbelieving. "What if I don't?"

"Then I'll stay here with you. All day."

Mike rolls his eyes, and immediately regrets it when his head throbs. "You can't skip school again, Will."

"Can too," Will argues. "I'm going to stay over tonight, and if you don't feel better by the morning, I'll stay during the day too. Literally will not leave until you tell me to."

Mike smiles a little despite himself. "Yeah?"

"Yes," Will says, steadfast. "Of course."

Mike sets his plate aside. "Let's play a game."

Will raises an eyebrow. "You should really get some rest, Mike."

"I've been resting," Mike says petulantly, threading his fingers through Will's and dragging his hand up to his lips, kissing Will's knuckles. "M' bored of resting."

Will smiles. "Okay. Let's play Go Fish."

"You always cheat at Go Fish."

"No, you always cheat, and then you get mad when I call you out on it, but since you're sick I'm going to let it slide."

Mike grins, leaning forward and poking a finger into Will's face. "That's romantic of you."

"I know," Will says, deadpan. "I win boyfriend of the year award. You have to promise to love me forever."

"Oh, is that all?" Mike teases, and Will smirks at him.

"Yeah, that's all."

If Mike didn't feel like death, he would so kiss Will right now. "I promise," he murmurs, reaching out a hand and tapping Will's nose lightly. Will scrunches up his face, even as a blush colors his cheeks, and bats Mike's hand away.

"Okay, good to know," he says lightly, voice too soft to be all that teasing. "Where's your deck of cards?"

"Somewhere in that pile of laundry," Mike says, waving a vague hand and slumping back against the pillows.

Will rolls his eyes. "You're ridiculous. I love you, but I'm not sorting through your dirty laundry."

"S' not dirty," Mike whines, letting his eyes fall shut as Will traces a finger over his knee. "I just didn't put it away yet."

"We both know you have no intention of ever putting it away," Will grumbles, even as he slides off the bed and begins rooting around on the ground. "Oh, found them!"

Mike offers a half-hearted clap in return, opening one eye, and Will sits back on his heels, raising an eyebrow. "Mike," he starts, and Mike immediately sits up straighter, opening both eyes.

"I am not tired," he states, anticipating Will's lecture before he can continue. "I'm fine. Let's play."

"Mike, I can, like, actively see your face losing color," Will says, sounding stern but also mildly concerned. He climbs back up onto the bed, pressing a hand to Mike's forehead. "You should rest."

"I'm fine," Mike insists, even as he leans into Will's touch. "I want to hang out with you."

"Well, I want my boyfriend to not die, so it seems we're at a stalemate."

"I am not going to die!" Mike whines, leaning forward and resting his head against Will's. "C'mon, you promised."

He blinks into Will's eyes, pulling his best sappy eyes. Will groans, closing his eyes and trying to pull away, but Mike grabs his shoulders and tugs him in, pressing his hands into Will's cheeks and brushing his nose against Will's.

"Please?" he whispers, and Will's eyes flicker to his lips, undoubtedly thinking about how they'd be kissing right now if Mike wasn't deathly ill.

No. Not deathly, that's the train of thought he's trying to avoid in order to get what he wants. Though now that he thinks about it, he does feel kind of faint.

Whatever. He's fine.

And something about his expression must be convincing, because Will sighs and kisses his forehead. "Yeah, yes, fine." 

Mike grins, releasing Will's face and clapping dorkily, and Will pretends not to be endeared by it as he shuffles and deals the cards. Mike knows anyway, and nudges Will's knee with his own.

"What?" Will asks in fake annoyance, glancing up as he sets the deck in between them and picks up his hand.

Mike smiles, like an idiot. "I like you."

Will rolls his eyes. "I like you too, Michael. Do you have any sevens?"

Five rounds of Go Fish later (and true to his word, Will does let him cheat), Mike tosses his cards aside, yawning.

Will smiles, tilting his head to one side. "Tired yet?"

"Never," Mike mumbles, slumping over into Will's lap. Will laughs, scooting up to the head of the bed and dragging his fingers through Mike's hair. "Just resting my eyes."

Will sighs. "Mike, you should go back to sleep."

"I'm fine," Mike insists weakly, even though right now the concept of sleep actually sounds pretty good. Will is just- he's so warm, and his hands are gentle in Mike's hair, and Mike's whole body feels like it's being dragged down with the weight of a hundred bricks. "Fine," he repeats, eyes falling closed.

Will tugs him closer, and Mike can somehow sense the smile on his face even though his eyes are closed. "If you go back to sleep," Will hedges, voice gentle. "I'll finish your Physics lab for you. And try to convince Lucas to give you the answers for the math homework."

Mike hums happily, burrowing further into Will's side. "Deal." 

Will breathes a sigh of relief and pulls the covers over them both, still trailing a hand through Mike's hair. He shifts, laying back properly against the pillows, and Mike squirms up to rest his head on Will's chest instead. Will kisses the top of his head, and Mike lets himself slip in and out of consciousness, only grounded by the feeling of Will's hands in his hair and his lips occasionally brushing over his forehead.

"You're gonna get sick, you know," Mike mutters at one point, as Will peppers kisses across his cheeks.

"I told you I don't care," Will says resolutely. "Go back to sleep."

"Shut up."

"You shut up."

There's a knock at the door, and Mike groans, shoving his face back into Will's sweater. "Make it go away."

"Mike, I can't-"

"Boys?" Mike's mother pokes her head into the room, face softening when she sees them all wrapped up in each other. "Oh, good, I was just coming to say lights out."

Mike lifts his head from Will's chest, squinting at his mother. "What time is it?"

"Almost eleven."

"Oh." Mike goes back to hiding away against Will, and he can feel Will shift under him, propping himself up on his elbows to talk to Mike's mom. 

"Thanks, Mrs. Wheeler," he says softly.

"Of course, hon. Thanks for coming over."

Will's hand resumes it's position in Mike's hair, and Mike can hear the smile in his voice when he replies, "Always."

Mike's mom smiles and closes the door softly, and Will leans over to flick off the lamp.

"Goodnight, Mike," he murmurs.

Mike is too tired to say it back, but he squeezes Will's hand gently.

Will squeezes back.

Mike does not feel better in the morning. His alarm goes off at seven a.m., and he groans, shoving his face into the pillow and fumbling around to turn it off. "Will," he whines, failing to find the alarm and turning around to reach for his boyfriend instead. "Make it stop."

Will laughs quietly, leaning over him and easily switching it off. "I take it you don't feel better?"

"No." Mike kicks the covers off, skin feeling far too hot and muscles aching. "Is the heat on in here?"

"No, you have a fever," Will says sternly, pressing a hand to his cheek. 

Mike squints at him miserably. "Make it stop," he repeats, and Will smiles gently at him.

"I would if I could," he murmurs, kissing his cheek. "Do you want breakfast?"

Mike thinks about it for approximately two seconds before he shakes his head, grimacing. "Nope. Can't do it."

"Okay." Will flops down onto the bed beside Mike, draping a hand over his waist. "We can just lay here then."

Mike sighs, gently reaching out and lifting Will's arm off him. "No. You should go to school."

Will frowns at him. "I already told you I wasn't."

"Will, c'mon, I'm fine. It's just, like, a flu virus. And you're definitely going to get sick."

"I don't care," Will says, shoving his face into Mike's chest. "I love you and I'm not leaving."

"Joyce is going to kill you," Mike mutters, and Will tugs him closer.

"She'll get over it."

"Maybe, but then she'll tell Hopper about it, and Hopper will decide I'm a bad influence, and then he'll yell at me in his car again like he did when I was thirteen."

Will removes him face from Mike's neck, smirking at him. "First of all, Hopper already knows you're a bad influence-"

"Hey!"

"Second of all," Will continues, undeterred, "you were an asshole when you were thirteen, so you can't really blame him."

Mike opens his mouth in offense, shoving Will off of him. "Way to kick me when I'm down!"

"Sorry," Will says, giggling. "But I'm not wrong."

"Shut up," Mike mumbles, opening his arms and letting Will squirm his way back into them. 

"Love you," Will trills, kissing his jaw lightly.

"Love you too," Mike grumbles, feigning annoyance.

It doesn't matter. Will knows how much he means it.

"Will," Mike croaks, a few hours later when he wakes up again. Will's sitting up this time, chewing on the end of a pencil as he stares daggers at the notebook in his lap.

Will drops his pencil, glancing over at him. "Mike," he says, amused. "Awake again, are we?"

Mike blinks up at him pitifully. "I need water."

"Okay, I'll get you some," Will replies easily, sliding off the bed and crossing the room. Mike watches him go, smiling sleepily and ignoring the pounding sensation in his skull. His eyes drift over to the notebook that Will's abandoned on the bed, and he grins when he sees that it's the Physics lab. Will's answered the last few questions for him, in a pretty impressive imitation of Mike's handwriting.

Will returns a few minutes later, glass of water in hand. Mike smiles at him, accepting the water as Will hands it to him, and holds up the notebook. "You know I didn't actually expect you to do this for me, right?"

Will smirks, sitting down beside him and letting Mike flop over into his lap. "Yeah, I know, but you'd been sleeping forever and I got bored. I'm not doing the math homework, though."

"Yeah, probably better that way." Will whacks him on the shoulder, and Mike snickers. "Sorry."

Will goes back to doing Mike's homework, and Mike listens silently to the scratching of his pencil against the paper. 

Mike wonders, sometimes, what exactly he did to deserve Will Byers. Will, who is quiet and sweet and too good for half the shit he's been through, for half the shit Mike has put him through. Will, who forgives Mike for every stupid thing he's ever done or said, even when Mike sometimes takes literal years to apologize and continues to fuck things up at every turn. Will, who, two years ago, handed Mike a piece of his heart and slapped someone else's name on it for the sake of Mike's happiness. Will, who, twelve years ago, met Mike's eyes and answered his fumbling question with a simple, steadfast yes. Mike loves him so much, and it continues to baffle him that Will loves him back. 

"Will?" Mike whispers, twisting around in Will's lap to gaze up at him. Will hums, brushing his thumb over Mike's jaw.

"Yeah, baby?" he asks absently, not looking up from Mike's homework. The homework that he's doing for Mike, even though Will's never particularly cared for Physics, just because Mike asked him to.

Mike blinks hard, sure he's being ridiculous but needing to ask the question anyway. "Why... why are you here?"

Will sets the notebook aside again, frowning at him. "Here, as in, your bedroom, or here as in, like, on the Earth? Because I only have the answer to one of those questions."

Mike huffs a lap, twisting a hand in the fabric of Will's sweatpants. Sweatpants, he now realizes, Will must have stolen from Mike's closet at some point this morning. He smiles. "No, I mean, like. Why are you here with me?"

"Oh." Will taps a finger against Mike's cheek. "That's easy. It's because I love you."

"Right, but why?" Mike presses, grip on Will's leg growing insistent.

Will sighs, not unkindly, nudging Mike gently until he sits up and meets his eyes properly. "Mike, what's going on?"

"Nothing! Just- I don't know why you put up with me, sometimes."

"I just told you, it's because I-"

"You love me, yeah, I know, but I just- I don't get it," Mike says, and he's vaguely aware that he's probably just delirious from the fever, and sad as a byproduct of being sick, but still. "I'm so- I think I'm awful, sometimes," he whispers, and watches Will's features soften.

"Oh, Mike," he murmurs, and then he's wrapping his arms around Mike and tugging him close, and Mike isn't sure when he started crying but he is, he's letting tears drip onto Will's t-shirt, and Will is letting it happen because he is far, far too good for Mike. "Listen," he murmurs, resting one hand firmly on Mike's back and trailing his fingers through Mike's hair with the other. "I know you don't think so, but you are a good person, okay? You are. You are my best fucking friend in the entire world, and I don't know what I'd do without you. You're smart, and brave, and passionate, and you've been my rock for as long as I can remember. I know you see yourself as the scared kid who said mean things and hurt people and whatever, but that's not how I see you at all. You- you've always protected me, and that's how I see you. You defended me to bullies before either of us were even old enough to knew what the words they were using meant, and you searched everywhere for me when I went missing, and stayed with me every day when I was literally possessed, and- with all the other Upside Down stuff too, no matter mad we were at each other you'd always show up and fight with me when it mattered. That's who you are to me. Maybe you don't see yourself as the heart, but... you're mine."

Every fiber of Mike's being is screaming that Will is wrong, that he's fallen for some trick that Mike didn't even know he was using, but he also knows that Will never lies. He has told exactly one lie in the course of their entire friendship, and zero over the course of their more-than-friendship, and Mike knows that assuming he's lying now would be cruel, so-

So. Okay. Maybe he believes him, a little.

Mike lifts his head from Will's shoulder. "Thank you," he whispers, unsure of how else to put all the things he's feeling into words.

Will seems to understand anyway, and he smiles as he presses a firm kiss to Mike's forehead. "I love you," he murmurs. "Always. Got it?"

"I love you too," Mike breathes, closing his eyes as Will continues pressing kisses to his face. "Always."

True to his word, Will stays home with Mike all day, smiling at him and pressing kisses to his face and even trying to help with the godforsaken math homework. They don't talk more about their conversation earlier, but Mike can feel Will's reassurances in the way he threads his fingers through Mike's and presses his face against Mike's neck and whispers Iloveyou's when he thinks Mike is asleep.

Mike's fever doesn't lessen up, but his head stops feeling like it's splitting open, and he might be imagining it but it feels like the aching in his bones grows a little more tolerable. By dinnertime, he's able to stomach a bowl of soup, which Will heats up for him on the stove, and Mike is even brave enough to stumble out of his room and follow Will into the kitchen. 

"You're going to get sick," he says to Will, even as he wraps his arms around his boyfriend's waist and hugs him from behind. 

"Don't care," Will replies easily, resting one hand over Mike's arms and using the other to stir his soup. "Do you want toast with this?"

"Better not push it," Mike murmurs, pressing his face against Will's shoulder.

"Fair. Hey, where's everyone else?" Will asks, glancing around. 

"My mom has her PTA meeting tonight, and Holly's at a sleepover," Mike answers. The Wheeler house has been a lot calmer in recent months, since Ted Wheeler finally fucked off somewhere and Nancy went away to college. Mike kind of likes it. 

"Want to watch a movie, then? Since Holly's not hogging the TV?" Will asks, dragging Mike over to the other side of the kitchen and pouring soup into two bowls. Mike whines, not letting go of Will's waist, and he can practically hear Will's eye roll. 

"Sure," he murmurs, kissing the side of Will's neck and reluctantly relinquishing him as Will hands him his bowl of soup.

They wander into the living room and curl up together under a blanket, setting their food down on the coffee table. "I'll let you pick the movie," Will says, leaning against Mike's side and handing him the remote. "Since you're sick."

"You always let me pick," Mike corrects, dutifully flicking on the TV.

Will flicks him in the side of his head. "Don't push it, Wheeler. You promised to love me forever, remember?"

"I didn't say anything about that!" Mike squawks, squirming out from under the blanket and reaching for the nearest Star Wars DVD. "I was just stating facts."

"I let you pick because you throw a fit when I don't," Will says dryly, watching Mike struggle with the DVD player.

Mike twists around to glare at him. "Okay, you know what, I take back everything I said earlier about you being too good for me, you are so mean-"

Will laughs, opening his arms as Mike successfully shoves in the DVD and worms his way back over to the couch. Mike collapses into them, and Will tangles a hand in his hair. "M' sorry," Will mumbles as the opening titles roll. "I let you pick the movies because I love you, is that better?"

"Much," Mike agrees, settling into Will's arms and turning to face the TV.

Will nudges his arm. "Say it back, Mike."

Mike grins, twisting around and peppering kisses across Will's cheeks. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he says into Will's face.

"Okay, I get it," Will laughs, shoving him away. "Shut up and watch the movie."

"I love you," Mike mumbles one more time under his breath, and Will rolls his eyes as he slings an arm over Mike's shoulder.

"You're a dork."

"You're mean."

"Call it even?"

"Deal."

They're silent for a few minutes, watching the first few scenes that they both know by heart and leaning against each other. 

Then:

"Will?"

Will groans. "Oh my God, Mike, are you capable of being quiet for more than twelve seconds?"

"No."

Will rolls his eyes. "What?"

"Geez, nevermind," Mike pouts, burrowing further into the couch.

Will pokes his shoulder. "No, c'mon, I'm sorry. What's up?"

"I was just gonna say- thanks for taking care of me."

"Oh." Will smiles, leaning over to kiss the top of Mike's head. "You're welcome."

"I'm serious," Mike says, tilting his chin up to look Will in the eyes.

"I know you are, Mike." Will dips forward, placing a gentle kiss on Mike's lips, fever be damned. "I'll always take care of you. Promise."

"I'll take care of you too," Mike murmurs.

"I know you will. Now shut up and watch the movie."

Mike grins. "I don't know, what if I-"

"Michael."

"Okay, okay." 

Will wraps his arms tighter around him, and Mike doesn't feel sick at all anymore.