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saturday, july 9, 1988
“It is too hot today, oh my god.” Mike complains, stepping up the creaky stairs out of the basement with two handfuls of dishes. They’re completely alone in the Wheeler’s home; Nancy had gone somewhere with Jonathan and their friends the day before and was yet to come home, and Mike’s parents left with Holly on a weekend trip out of town to visit extended family early this morning. It had taken more convincing than was probably necessary to make Karen willing to leave a now-seventeen-year-old Mike at home—not that Will could blame her, considering… Well, everything.
She did, however, agree to him and the rest of the party sleeping over for a D&D session. A plan that had been contingent on them leaving before his parents did—with Will being an exception. Jonathan would be coming to get the both of them later that day and Mike would be spending the weekend with the Byers.
“At least your house has proper air conditioning. Can you imagine what my old house probably feels like right now?” Will supplies the hypothetical from a few steps behind him, his own arms full of the various snacks they had last night. He’s not entirely sure where the complaint came from—they had been in the basement most of the day and it was relatively cold down there—but he’s not gonna question it. They are on the tail end of the Fourth-of-July-week heatwave and they did overhear Ted tell Karen and Holly this morning that according to the weather report, it was supposed to get up to 90 degrees today.
They both stop when Mike gets to the door. “I don’t even wanna think about it,” he grunts out and Will can’t see his face, but he knows Mike’s tongue is no doubt stuck between his teeth as he focuses on turning the handle with his mostly-occupied hands.
Will shifts his stance and props himself against the wall, looking up at the mess of onyx curls that just barely reach the neckline of his white tank top. His gaze trails along the edge of the shirt to the pale, slightly sunburned shoulders sticking out of it. Will takes a brief pause to note how the freckles that are scattered across Mike’s skin have gotten darker from the summer sun.
Finally, after about thirty seconds of struggling, Mike lets out a small noise of triumph as the door pushes open. He throws Will a praise-seeking look of ‘see? I did it!’ over his shoulder before moving forward and Will can’t help but smile, a bemused sound escaping him as he stifles a laugh.
Will steps through the open door and is immediately blanketed in the too-hot, too-thick July air that they’d managed to keep out of the basement by having it shut. With that in mind, he pushes the door closed with his foot.
The stark change from the cool underground is near suffocating. He can already feel a thin layer of perspiration forming over the nape of his neck as he follows Mike around the corner into the kitchen. Absently, Will questions Mike’s decision to keep his hair that long during the summer months. It can’t feel good covering his neck like that.
The fragile glassware clatters together as Mike unceremoniously deposits it in the sink. He spins around and sits back against the counter, arms crossed, as Will sets the bags of chips and candy on the island. The plastic wrapping had begun to stick uncomfortably to his increasingly sweat-slick skin. He runs his hands over the pink indentations that some of the hard corners had pressed into the squishy parts of his forearms. Grimacing, Will then swipes his palms over his sleep shorts in an attempt to rid them of the gross wetness they gathered.
Will hears a quiet snort and looks up to see Mike already watching him, just a little too slow to hide the amused yet tender expression with one of nonchalance. And although he’s more used to the open staring now, after about a year and a half of it, it still makes him slightly self-conscious. “What?” He questions in lighthearted defense, pulling his arms over his chest. The corners of Mike’s mouth twitch up a smidge as he pushes up and extends an arm towards the pile of junk food, “Didn’t say anything.”
The pair fall into a comfortable silence as they put away the snacks and neither seem too keen to break it when they finish. Will hops up on the island, taking a seat on the now-free counter space, facing the sink, while Mike heads to the fridge. He leans back on his hands and watches cool air pour out of the opened freezer as Mike rummages through it, presumably for something cold to eat.
His head blocks Will’s view as he grabs something in the freezer. Will hears the crinkling of plastic before Mike’s shoving a hand (now with a popsicle in it) out behind him, waving it in his general direction with an inquisitive hum.
Will sits up to reach for it and the movement pulls his t-shirt tight across his shoulders, making him acutely aware of how uncomfortably warm and damp it’s become from the humid air. He grimaces in discomfort when the fabric sticks to his back and he tugs it away from his skin with his free hand.
Mike shuts the freezer door after taking a popsicle for himself and scoots around Will’s knees to take his original position against the counter.
The quiet continues now that they’re both preoccupied with the popsicles and Will sits back again, this time propping himself up with only one hand. He allows himself to take in the sight of the slightly-taller, similarly sweaty boy standing in front of him, uncaring that he’s more than likely being stared at right back. Will’s brain catalogues everything it can about his ruddy, freckled face, skin warmed from the heat, and stores it away for the next time he’ll be able to paint something. His eyes catch on the dark waves that are now sticking to the sides of Mike’s neck and his head tilts with a thought.
Slowly, Will pulls his gaze up and away, back over his face—and when he reaches his eyes, he’s not surprised to find Mike already looking. Will raises an eyebrow at him, silently asking ‘what?’, to which Mike answers with an overly-exaggerated “seductive” wiggle of his own eyebrows and makes a move with the popsicle in his mouth, clearly implying…
Will deadpans, giving him a hard, disappointed glare—before his body betrays him and he cracks the tiniest hint of smile. Immediately, Mike bursts into a fit of giggles.
He’s bent forwards and holding his stomach with both hands, popsicle carefully pointed away from himself. Will can’t help it—he laughs, too, smacking Mike’s arm in a last ditch effort to express how awful that was. But he does it with the hand holding his own popsicle, and the last, mostly-melted piece of it breaks apart from the force and goes flying straight to the floor.
Will gasps and cries out, “Look what you did!” Mike straightens up and he points to the red chunk of quickly melting popsicle on the kitchen tile. “Me?” He motions at his own chest with an incredulous look, still laughing. “Yes, you!” Will shoves his palm into Mike’s shoulder accusingly. “This is clearly your fault, now you need to clean it up.”
Even as he protests (“Really?”) Mike's still reaching for the paper towel.
“Yes, really.” Will tries to match the annoyed glare Mike gives when looks back at him as he bends down to wipe it up, but it takes all of two seconds for the both of them to break. Mike’s knees pop when he stands up, but neither of them pay any mind to it. Instead, he takes Will’s popsicle stick and moves to throw it all (the paper towel, stick and his own nearly finished popsicle) away.
It’s when Mike tries to push the hair stuck to his neck away with a move of his shoulder while washing the stickiness off his hands that Will remembers what he was going to do. He makes a noise, a hum in the back of his throat, to gain the attention of the boy facing away from him and waves a hand when he turns, “C’mere.”
Unquestioning, Mike dries his hands and steps towards him. Once close enough, Will guides him where he wants him (standing between his legs with his back to him) by the shoulders. Mike catches on and pulls one of the two hair ties off his wrist. Will mutters a quiet ‘thanks’ when he takes it, slipping it over his own hand.
It’s a bit of a gross feeling, to run your hands through sweat-damp hair, but Will tries to ignore it. He takes the liberty of just messing with it at first, attempting to fix some of the still-present bedhead. Mike’s shoulders sag with a light sigh and he relaxes into the touch.
Suddenly, his fingers catch and he tugs a little too hard at a knot by accident. Mike sucks a sharp breath between his teeth at the sting, body tensing again. “Sorry,” Will detangles his fingers from the mass of black waves and moves on to gathering it all together at the center of the back of his head.
“‘s fine,” Mike murmurs. Will loops the onyx hair through the ponytail holder once, twice, pulls at a few strands to make sure it’s all even, then twirls a finger around the perfect curl that’s right at the bottom, for good measure.
Sensing that he’s finished, Mike twists around and plants his hands atop the counter on either side of Will. Will goes to fix his bangs; extracting a few pieces from out of the ponytail to frame his face and tucking one side behind his ear, hand just barely cupping Mike’s face.
In this position, Mike is the one who has to look ever-so-slightly up at the other.
“Hey,” Mike says, head tilting into Will’s palm. “Hi,” Will smiles softly, arms moving to rest on Mike’s shoulders. One of Mike’s hands gains purchase on his thigh, thumb slipping underneath the hem of his shorts. Will sees his eyes flick down to somewhere underneath his nose and he gives a quick tug to the short hairs at the back of his neck to bring his attention back up.
“That was a stupid joke—You know that, right?” Will recalls, still absently toying with his baby hairs. He watches with a fond sort of self-satisfaction as the tips of Mike’s ears turn red. “Yeah, but it still made you laugh, didn’t it?” He quips back, gaze going unfocused when Will’s nails graze lightly against his skin, from just behind his ear down to his nape.
Mike opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out as Will twists his fingers around a small strand and tugs again, more gently this time. He feels Mike’s hand twitch against his leg.
“Evil—You’re evil.” He finally stammers out. Will grins, devilish, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mike tries to look angry at him, but the effect is lost by how flushed his face is—and by how it gets cut off by him glancing down to Will’s lips again.
“You,” Will trails off, waiting for Mike to look back up, “need to get packed. Jonathan should be here soon.” He pats the back of his neck and then pulls away entirely, reclining back against his hands once again.
Mike groans, head dropping down. His forehead thunks against Will’s chest and it makes him chuckle, “C’mon, you know I’m right.” Mike just buries his face further into his shirt, groaning harder as his arms come up to snake around Will’s midsection.
“Mike,” Will laughs when he shakes his head and tightens his hold on him. “Mike, come on.” Said boy grumbles something unintelligible in response, but doesn't move.
“This cannot be comfortable for you,” Will points out as he busies his hands by fiddling with the back of his tank top. “Alright, fine,” Mike huffs and he stands up, forcing Will’s arms up with him so they end up back around his shoulders.
“You messed up your hair,” he complains and Mike waits patiently, fingers tapping along to an unknown beat where they rest on Will’s hips, as he meticulously fixes his ruffled bangs. He tucks a piece behind his ear again and their eyes meet when he pulls his hand away.
He catches Mike’s glance down to his lips and sighs as he smiles, exasperated but fond—and dips forward to give him what he clearly wants.
Will had intended to keep the kiss chaste—Mike really does need to pack for tonight—but the surprised, elated sound Mike makes that’s followed by a pleased hum rumbling in his chest has him momentarily distracted. He gives in a few seconds longer before fingers digging into his hips over his clothes break him from the daze Will still gets from kissing Mike Wheeler. He pulls away with the quiet ‘click’ of their mouths separating, dodging when Mike moves in for more.
An indignant whine slips past his lips and Will gets to watch as his eyes snap open and his entire face flushes deeply in embarrassment, “Uh—“
Will snorts. “Go,” he motions to the stairs behind him with his head, “Get your shit together.”
Mike pouts, muttering a ‘fine, whatever’ in dramatized annoyance and starts towards the aforementioned staircase.
Will can’t help himself when he grabs Mike’s forearm just before he’s out of reach and tugs him back for another kiss, this one being just a quick peck. He lingers less than an inch away for a second longer than necessary before drawing back entirely. “Okay, now go.”
Mike stares at him in incredulity, mouth agape, and then scoffs, “You’re the worst, you know that?” Will makes a sound adjacent to a giggle and keeps a loose grasp on his arm as Mike turns away until their fingers catch together and his hand finally drops.
“I love you!” He says to the lanky figure walking away from him, getting a disbelieving ‘uh huh’ in response (which is immediately followed by a soft look from over his shoulder, making sure Will knows it’s just a joke).
He smiles to himself, giddy, but is then abruptly reminded of how uncomfortably muggy it is when the backs of his thighs stick to the counter as he hops off it. “Blegh,” he rubs at the reddened skin, soothing the dull sting.
“I’ll be in the basement,” Will calls out to the thumping footsteps disappearing up the stairs. He doesn’t wait for a reply before he rounds the corner to the basement door.
Moments like these might just be his favourite, Will thinks as he goes down the steps at a pace that’s probably a bit too fast to be safe and relishes in the cool air. Times where everything just feels so domestic—like the house they’re in is their own. It may just be because any time they get completely alone is few and far between, but he’s sure they would still be his favourite if it happened every day.
He takes a few minutes to gather the few things he brought over into his bookbag, tossing it over by the stairs for later. A quick glance at his watch, as he settles onto the old basement couch, tells him it’s 3:17PM. Jonathan said he would be coming at around 3:30, which gives them roughly thirteen minutes to do fuck all.
Will hums contentedly as he draws his feet up onto the cushion, sitting cross-legged. He tilts his head back and his eyes flutter closed when he inhales deeply.
Some time later, Will hears the door swing open and shut and Mike comes thundering down the stairs.
Will cracks an eye open just as he reaches the bottom. He sits up, stretching his legs out and placing his feet on the carpet as Mike drops the bag he’s holding next to the one already on the floor. He’s changed from his pajama pants (that were actually Will’s) to dark blue shorts that stop an inch or two above his knees, but he kept the tank top.
“It’s so nice down here,” Mike says as he makes his way over to Will, “So cold.”
Will nods in agreement, reaching out instinctively once he’s close enough. The boy in front of him complies, taking both his hands in his own. He does his best to keep his arms steady so Mike stays balanced and upright as he kneels on the couch, Will’s legs between his. He moves one hand to Will’s shoulder as he sits, the other pressing against his chest. He’s fully straddling his thighs now and his shins sink into the cushion around Will as he situates himself.
“It’s way hotter upstairs.” Mike continues, thumb flicking back and forth over a fold in his shirt absently. “I bet,” Will hums noncommittally, “Heat rises and all that.”
“Mm-hm…” Mike’s not looking him in the eyes anymore, instead locked onto somewhere around his chin. He drags his palms down the front of Will’s shirt–and suddenly he’s squeezing him in a hug and digging his nose into the crook of his neck.
Will laughs in surprise, loosely returning the embrace, “What are you doing?” His hands splay over Mike’s back as it rises with his deep inhale and falls with a long sigh. He mumbles something into his skin. “What?” Will tilts his head to try and get a better view of him.
Mike angles his mouth away from his neck, “I said I love you,” he sits up, mirroring Will’s hold on his waist, “Y’know, ‘cause I didn’t say it earlier.”
Will beams, “Oh. Ok.”
Mike blushes, now bashful, and he squeezes rhythmically at his middle, but he doesn't look away, “Shut up.” Will rolls his eyes fondly when Mike clutches his face in either hand and he lets Mike pull him into a kiss– finally properly indulging the boy.
It’s sweeter than Will expected, more gentle, but the energy slowly shifts to something more charged when Mike presses in deeper, fingers tangling in his hair.
Will dips his hands underneath Mike's shirt. He runs them up his ribs and down to his hips before he settles on his waist and digs his fingers in a little too roughly.
A small noise escapes Mike as he tightens his grip in Will’s hair. He breaks the kiss, panting lightly, and Will can feel his breath, warm when it hits his face. Mike pulls a hand from his hair and tilts Will’s head up by his jaw, his dark eyes darting back and forth between his own.
This time, Will's the one who initiates, pushing up to meet him. He nips at Mike's bottom lip, making him gasp, and he takes the opportunity to–
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Jonathan’s pounding at the front door.
They break apart and there's a string of spit connecting their reddened mouths.
“I,” Mike says calmly as he swipes it off Will’s lower lip with his thumb, “am going to kill your brother.” Will barks out a laugh, “I don't think your sister would be too happy about that.”
“Yeah, well, she can deal,” Mike grumbles as he gets up. Will cards his fingers through his hair in a lame attempt to fix it as he stands–he has no doubt that he looks properly disheveled.
Jonathan slams his fist against the door again and Mike glares up the stairs before bitterly yelling, “Coming!”
And Will tries not to laugh, he really does–but then Mike is directing his glare at him and he can't hold it back anymore.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he slaps a palm over his mouth to muffle himself. Mike purses his lips, a smile slipping through, and he turns away to grab the bags. “It’s just—“
Mike glowers over his shoulder as he picks up Will’s backpack, “It’s just what?”
Will recovers enough to uncover his mouth and he steps over to Mike, “Nothing–it’s nothing. Not funny at all.” He tries to take his bag from his boyfriend, but Mike pulls it out of his reach, lip jutting out as he squints at him.
They wrestle over the bag for another second before Jonathan’s pounding at the door again and yelling something indecipherable. Probably telling them to hurry their asses up before he leaves them there. “C’mon—before your brother has a frickin’ aneurysm or something,” Mike jokes, tugging the backpack strap fully out of Will’s grip.
Will (begrudgingly) concedes, motioning for Mike to go up the stairs first; which he does, looking all too smug about his victory. Wordlessly, he follows.
They make it to the door and Mike pulls it open just as Jonathan’s mid-swing, “Oh,” He drops his hand, then stops, giving them both once-overs. Will glances over at Mike, and knows immediately that they’re fucked.
Mike looks unmistakably like he’s been kissing someone, cheeks still slightly flushed and lips swollen red. Will can only imagine he looks similar, and his tousled hair is probably just as dead a giveaway. He just hopes Jonathan doesn’t say anything about it.
His prayers are answered when Jonathan just fixes him with a look and moves to let them go ahead of him, motioning with his arm. Will goes first, ducking past him to escape his gaze.
Nancy’s waiting for them in the passenger seat, waving at Will once he’s near the car. He returns it with a smile.
Will picks the driver’s side so Mike has to go all the way around; Both their bags hang on either shoulder and he’s holding the straps so they don’t slide off.
“What took you guys so long?” Nancy asks as Will closes the door and Mike opens his, twisting in her seat to face them. “Uh—“ He starts when Mike gets in, scooching all the way over to the middle seat and setting their backpacks down in the empty space beside him. Nancy pauses, and Will sees her noticing the same things Jonathan did, feeling his face get warmer by the second.
“Actually—nevermind. I don’t wanna know.” She decides just as Jonathan gets in the car, turning away.
The car starts and Will catches Jonathan’s eye while he’s adjusting the rearview mirror a little. He can see how red he is. Jonathan looks away to keep fixing the mirror, “Mike, move your big head. I can’t see anything.”
Mike squawks indignantly and Will and Nancy laugh, but he does what he’s told, scooting closer to Will, dipping his head down to rest it on his shoulder. Though, his arms are crossed tightly over his chest and Will can see from the corner of his eye that he’s glaring at the driver as he stretches to look out the back window and starts reversing out of the driveway.
Will looks up from watching Mike take his hand and plays around with his fingers, leaning against his other hand with his elbow pressed into the door, and Jonathan glances down at him, raising his eyebrow, clearly amused by all of this. Will, in lack of response, sticks his tongue out at him. Jonathan huffs a laugh, shaking his head slightly and sits back down properly in his seat.
The drive passes in relative silence, the only noise coming from the radio, set to a low volume, and the murmur of Nancy and Jonathan quietly talking in the front seats.
Will is nearly lulled to sleep by songs he’s heard before from his brother, but can’t recall the names of, and the blur of the town outside the window. He guesses Mike’s sleeping, or close to it, because he stopped messing with his hand a while ago and his breathing is slow and steady against Will’s side.
The ride isn’t long enough for him to fully slip into unconsciousness, though, and he sits up as they pull into the Hopper-Byer’s driveway. Jonathan parks and Will jostles Mike with his shoulder.
The older two exit the car, not bothering to wait up for them, as Mike blinks blearily awake, rubbing his eyes. “C’mon, sleepy-head, we’re here,” Will says as the boy sits up. He huffs, words slurring together a little, “Wasn’t sleeping, just resting my eyes.”
Will snorts, stepping out of the car, “You sound like your dad.”
Mike looks up at him, clearly offended, “Never say that to me again or I will break up with you.” He gathers their bags in one hand and takes the hand Will’s offering him with his other.
Will barks a laugh, pulling him up out of the car and tugging him distractingly close, “You wouldn’t dare.” He grins, letting go of his hand and, this time, successfully snags his bag from Mike, taking off towards the house.
“Wha—Hey!” Mike yells and Will hears him slam the car door shut and chase after him as he sprints up the two steps to the open door and pushes past Nancy and Jonathan, who hadn’t quite made it inside yet.
Mike’s not too far behind as he runs past the kitchen and up the stairs, laughing breathlessly; Will reaches his bedroom a few seconds before he does. Vaguely, he processes hearing Mike loudly greet his mom and El, who he remembers seeing in the kitchen and living room, respectively.
He stops in the middle of his room to catch his breath, kicking his shoes off and tossing his backpack in a random direction. Mike is propped against the doorframe with his bag dropped by his feet, panting while he unties his shoelaces, “Why’d you make me run?”
Will lets out a bemused sound, “I didn’t make you do anything,” he pauses, “but if I did, it would be for threatening to leave me.” Mike walks around him and plops himself onto the bed. Will picks up his shoes and brings them over near the door, bending over to set them down and grab Mike’s shoes and he hears a low whistle from across the room.
Deadpanning and a little red in the face, he slowly turns his head to glare at the one responsible, whose eyes take too long to meet his. “Really?” He says flatly, and he gets a smug smirk and shrug in response before Mike flops back into the bed, hands coming up to cover his face, slightly muffling his voice when he says, “Not my fault you still wear the shorts you got in middle school.”
Will scoffs, turning back to put Mike’s shoes next to his by the side of his desk and grabs his backpack from the middle of the doorway, muttering an affronted, “They are not the same shorts from middle school.”
He stands, closing the door behind him, and tosses the bag in the same random direction as his own on his way to the bed.
Mike makes a delighted, high-pitched noise, and Will mentally prepares himself for whatever the idiot’s about to say, as he lifts his hands from over his gleaming, mischievous eyes to look at him, “Oh, so you picked a size too small on purpose, then?”
Will feels his neck prickle with warmth and he fights the strong urge to hit Mike, “No, I did not. They fit fine.” He sees Mike’s eyes light up with another quip and he hopes the pointed glare he gives is enough to shut him up.
(It is.)
He steps between Mike’s knees and the black-haired boy sits up, hands immediately finding purchase on Will’s hips and looking entirely too proud of himself. Will returns the touch by resting his forearms on his shoulders, his blush slowly fading as he tries to think about anything else. Mike’s ponytail has gotten messed up again.
With Mike sitting on the bed and Will standing above him, their positions from earlier that day are now reversed.
“I would never actually break up with you, y’know,” Mike looks up at him, returning to the previous conversation as restless fingers slipping beneath his shirt, “You’re stuck with me for– for forever.”
“Really?” Will grins, “You wanna be with me forever?”
Mike smiles back, tugging him closer by the waist, “Of course I do.”
Will bites his lip, trying to suppress all the emotions that casual admittance makes him feel, and cards his fingers through sweaty bangs. He hums with a thought and leans back to look Mike in the face better, “Do you wanna shower before or after dinner?”
“Hm,” Mike tilts his head, “What time is it?”
Will checks his watch as he moves to take Mike’s ponytail out, fluffing up his hair to its normal messiness while he speaks, “Almost four. Which means there’s about two hours until Mom starts cooking.”
Mike taps his waist as he considers his options. “Before,” He decides on, “But not till later.”
Then, Will’s being yanked down by his shirt and he quietly yelps in surprise, landing sideways on the bunched-up comforter with an ‘oof.’
Mike pushes him flat on his back and swings his leg over him. Will’s feet land on the floor and he has to grab onto Mike’s hips to steady him, having slightly overshot the motion, who grins sheepishly before leaning forward.
He completely encompasses Will with his body, knees planted in the mattress by his hips and his forearms landing on either side of his head as his hair becomes a black curtain, cutting off Will’s view of the room. His hands crawl around to the small of Mike’s back, bunching up his tank top slightly in the process.
Their faces are very close, close enough for Will to see even the lightest freckle on Mike's face. “I wanna be with you forever, too,” He says–whispers, really–looking Mike in the eye. He can see his own blurred reflection in the inky darkness as they crinkle with his warm smile and Mike speaks softly when he says, “Yeah?”
Will nods, repeating the other’s earlier sentiment, “Yeah. ‘Course I do.”
Mike's eyes flick down to his mouth and then back up, gaze imploring as he asks a silent question, and Will nods again, giving a silent answer.
He makes a futile attempt at tucking his hair behind his ear as he leans down and Will’s eyes close when he pushes up to meet him in the middle.
The first kiss is gentle and sweet, but the soft mood slowly dissipates when Will's head falls back against the comforter and they break apart for just a second before Mike's dipping down for another.
He plays the same trick Will did earlier, nipping at his lower lip and making him gasp, Will's hands flexing, moving up to Mike’s waist, pushing his shirt up more.
Every one of Will’s senses is flooded with Mike, Mike, Mike, and he wouldn’t change it for the world. The apocalypse could be happening just outside his window (again) and he wouldn’t even care, as long as he got to see, smell, feel, taste Mike like this.
Will sucks on Mike’s tongue and he makes a noise akin to a whine, breaking away with a wet ‘smack.’
It takes a second for Will’’s eyes to focus on the sight in front of him, but once it does, he hopes he never forgets it: Mike’s staring back at him, pupils blown with his dazed look, cheeks ruddy and lips red and shiny with spit. His eyes flick between Will’s own and he quickly dives back down.
But he pulls away just as fast, much to Will’s confusion, before he’s trailing kisses down the left side of his jaw, moving to tuck his hair behind his ear again as he makes his way to just below his ear.
He bites down gently and Will’s head tilts, instinctively giving him better access, his grip tightening around his waist before sliding down to Mike’s thighs, pushing his shorts up a little, skin warm under his palms.
Mike gives one last hard suck before pulling away, a noise escaping Will before he can stop it, and he looks very pleased with himself about it.
Will’s hands spread over Mike’s legs, fingers digging into the soft flesh of the backs of his thighs, and Mike inhales sharply through his nose. He leans down to kiss him again, licking at the seam of Will’s lips. Then—
Hopper slams his palm against the wall of the staircase, yelling up the steps, “Three inches, boys!”
Will barks a laugh into Mike's mouth, startled, and the boy pulls back to scowl at him. His furrowed expression only deepens when Will tries and fails to suppress a smile, delighted by the fact that Hopper still berates Mike with that after all this time.
Mike then shoves his face into the crook of his neck, groaning loudly and the hands tangled in his hair clench, grip almost painful and Will makes a noise to communicate that.
“Sorry,” he mumbles against his skin and soothes the sting away with his fingers, pressing an open mouth kiss on the spot that makes Will’s breath catch.
He has an idea, suddenly, and the only warning Mike gets is him adjusting his grip on the backs of his thighs; He stands up abruptly, and Mike shrieks in surprise in his ear, legs coming around his middle as he tightens his arms around his neck.
“Jesus, fuck,” He complains as Will carries him over to the door, grinning shamelessly, “Could’ve given me a little warning, y’know.”
“But that wouldn’t’ve been nearly as fun,” Will retorts as he shifts Mike enough to one arm that he can pull the door open a smidge.
“Yeah, for you, ” He says and they both stick their heads out the door to look at Hopper, who’s still standing at the bottom of the stairs, Mike more or less pressed against the wall so Will can see.
“Better?” Will asks his step-father, sarcasm just barely slipping through in his voice.
He and Mike exchange quick glances before smiling innocently at Hopper, who grunts, eyes narrowed as he studies the two, looking entirely unimpressed, “I guess,” and turns to the kitchen. El sends them a thumbs-up while stifling laughter from behind the man as she follows him.
Mike unwraps his legs, feet hitting the laminate wood flooring with a thud, and pushes Will back over to the bed, “Okay. Nap time.”
“What? No,” Will protests, while still letting himself be pulled by the arm across the room, “Mike, we do actually need to do stuff today.”
His head hits the pillows and Mike allows him about three seconds to get comfortable before dropping his entire body weight on him, forcing all the air out of his lungs in a strangled yelp - “Ow.” - But his hands tangle into his hair before he can even think about it, and Mike hums appreciatively, wrapping his arms around Will, “Nope. Sleep. Now.”
“Michael.” Will tries still, despite having already internally given in.
“William.” Mike bites back, lifting his head out of his shirt, resting his chin on Will’s chest.
Will’s hands wander from Mike’s hair to his shoulders, down his back and up again. Any retort he had come up with leaves him when Mike smiles softly up at him, eyes heavy with the lethargy that’s weighed over the two of them throughout the day.
“Sleep,” Mike says, with a finality in his tone that Will couldn’t fight even if he wanted to. He wriggles around so he’s laying mostly at Will’s side, face shoved in the curve between Will’s neck and shoulder with their legs tangled together.
“Fine,” Will presses his cheek to the top of Mike’s head.
He strokes his fingers lightly up and down Mike’s arm as he listens to his breathing slow, the puffs of air tickling his neck evening out—and as much as Will’s hands itch to draw the soft expression on his sleeping face, he slips into unconsciousness soon after.
Will wakes to El knocking on his open door, leaning through the threshold, and he blinks hard, forcing his vision to focus on his sister. She spares a glance at the sleeping boy half-way on top of him and whispers, “ Dinner ,” pointing to the stairs. He gives her as much a nod as he can with Mike’s head under his chin and she looks between them, overtly fond, before he’s shooing her away with his hand, a little embarrassed.
Will shakes Mike awake—or tries to, at least, because he just pushes further into Will’s shoulder, his hair tickling his skin and he pushes it away, out of Mike’s face, as well.
“C’mon, you said you wanted to shower before dinner,” He says when Mike grumbles, “And that would be now.”
Mike breathes in deeply, sitting up slightly to scrub his hands over his face, sleep slurring his words when he asks, “It is?”
Will bites his lip to suppress a smile at the sight, chest bursting with fondness, “Yeah, El just came to get us.”
Mike hums into his palms, stilling for a second. “Okay,” he mumbles against his hands, then gets up, suddenly fully awake. The boy pauses a few steps away from the bed and he spins around. Will sits up, about to ask what’s wrong, when he bends down to give him a quick kiss. “Oh,” he beams, and Mike rolls his eyes, going to leave again.
“Just meet me down there when you’re done,” Will says when Mike’s almost out, getting a thumbs-up through the door before it disappears completely.
Will comes down the stairs, met with the pleasant smell of dinner. He swings into the kitchen to see his mom bustling around the room. There’s mashed potatoes in a bowl on the table and she sets a container of green beans next to it.
Will steps closer to the stove, peering over to see steak searing in the pan. His mother stops on her way back, looking him over, confused, “Where’s Mike?”
“Upstairs. He wanted to shower before eating,” Will answers, moving to help her prepare.
“Where’s everyone else?” He asks. “Jonathan and Nancy left soon after dropping you boys off—They’re staying at the Wheeler’s tonight,” Will grimaces at the thought of why the two would want to stay there alone and he puts away the two extra forks and plates he’d grabbed, “Everyone else should be in the living room,” Joyce gestures loosely with a knife as she speaks.
He picks a steak for himself and Mike as his mother turns off the stove and takes the plates to the table, setting them in their usual spots, and Joyce calls the others for dinner.
He sits in his chair, grabbing the bowl of mashed potatoes to serve himself and Hopper comes up behind him, ruffling Will’s hair. He ducks forward out of his reach and pushes his hand away. His step-father sends a grin over his shoulder before addressing his mom, “Looks good, lover.”
Will scrunches his nose in repulsion, looking away from the two to see El doing the same thing and the two try not to laugh as she sits across from him, miming gagging as she levitates the plate their mother set out for her to the table. She motions for the potatoes and Will hands them over.
Hopper and Joyce sit in their respective places at each end of the table and they make their plates in silence, the only noise in the room being forks scraping against glassware and the occasional ‘can you pass me this?’ or ‘-hand me that?’ uttered, but then Hopper makes an inquisitive sound, pointing with his fork to the empty seat beside Will. “Where’s Mike?” He unknowingly repeats.
“In the shower,” Will says around a mouthful of food—and as though he had been summoned, Mike comes bounding down the stairs—“Or maybe not.”
Hands land on Will’s shoulders and he looks up at his now freshly-clean boyfriend.
“Hi,” Mike smiles, pressing a kiss to his hair-covered forehead. Will pushes him away, laughing shyly, and Mike grins at him, unashamed, as he slides into his chair.
Will catches El’s eyes when he’s looking down and silently tells her to zip it (and maybe kicks at her legs under the table when she opens her mouth—but not hard, he swears). She simpers mischievously, but doesn’t say anything.
Mike’s wearing his shirt, Will notices, his hair getting the fabric around the collar wet. It’s something he must have stolen when he got dressed in his room, he presumes. He’s got his own pajama pants on this time, though.
He, regretfully, spares a glance at his mom, who’s looking at the two of them with such pride and affection, he flushes immediately, staring down at his plate.
The dinner passes with light conversation, thankfully, and El offers the boys up to do the dishes as she’s clearing her spot at the table, “It’s Will’s turn, anyway.”
Will concedes without much fight, having not much else to do, and Mike follows his lead (much to El’s visible chagrin).
Joyce brings the stacked dinnerware to the sink and thanks the boys by getting on her tiptoes to give them both a kiss to the tops of their heads, Mike laughing as he bends his knees so she can reach properly.
His mom gives his boyfriend a light smack on the shoulder in jest, “You boys need to stop growing—No, seriously, I remember when you both barely reached my waist.”
“Mom,” Will groans, his hands submerged in the soapy dishwater. “Okay, okay,” She puts her hands up and backs out of the kitchen with a self-satisfied grin.
Mike’s laughing beside him and Will elbows him. Mike elbows him back, so he flicks him with water.
“Hey,” He cries dramatically, “I literally just showered.”
Will checks him with his hip. “Oh, I’m so sorry, babe,” He teases, laughing when Mike’s face scrunches up at the pet name. “Do not start calling me ‘babe ,’” He says seriously as he dries a plate, “That was awful.” Will snorts, making a face as he goes over how the word felt in his mouth as he said it, “Yeah, agreed,” and he flicks water at Mike again.
They part once the dishes are finished—their clothes only mildly soaked in soap and water—so Will can shower.
Finally able to scrub all the built-up sweat off his skin, he takes his time under the scalding water, savoring being warm without being sweaty. When he steps out, the mirror is foggy and the bathroom air is thick with steam.
Will frowns when he realizes he has no clean clothes. He wraps the towel around his waist, leaving the bathroom door open to cool it down as he enters the hallway.
He opens his door and Mike drops the sketchbook he was looking through on his face, scrambling to sit up, “Jesus— Hello.”
“Oh, don’t even start,” Will holds a warning hand out and hopes his red face can be passed off as warmed from the hot shower as he crosses the room, “I just forgot to grab clothes.” He turns his back to Mike to dig through his closet one-handedly. “Uh-huh,” He hears from behind him and he drops his head, stealing himself, before continuing to pick out sleep clothes.
Will dares to look behind him; Mike’s freckled face is tinted pink as he sits cross-legged on Will’s bed, just watching him move about his room. It's unfairly attractive.
He grabs a pair of shorts roughly in a fit of embarrassment, throwing a red-faced glare at Mike and exits the room as fast as he can without running.
He shuts the bathroom door and gets dressed quickly, wiping the steam left of the mirror away to fix his hair. Will turns his head to the side—and that’s when he sees it: a dark mark on his neck, just below his ear and deep purple. He gasps, praying that no one noticed and storms across the hall into his room with a hand pressed over it.
“Look at what you did,” He whisper-shouts, closing the door (though not all the way) as he points at the hickey.
Mike—having laid back down against the pillows after he left—props himself up on his elbows and looks at where he’s gesturing, seemingly unbothered as he shrugs, and goes, “Oops?”
Will stops and looks at him in what he can only imagine is severe annoyance and he drags his hands over his face, sighing.
“You just better hope Hopper didn’t see it,” Will says as he seats himself next to Mike’s legs, picking up the discarded sketchbook.
“It’ll be fine, he probably won't even care,” Mike placates as Will scoots up the bed to sit against the pillows, looking down at him, unconvinced, as he closes the book and sets it on his bedside table. It’s one of his older ones, he notes, one Mike’s definitely seen every page of before already. “And it’s not like he hasn’t seen much worse on you—or on me, for that matter.”
Will yells, objecting loudly, and shoves Mike, “Don’t say that. That doesn't make it better—it actually makes it worse!”
“I’m just saying—“
Will cuts him off, “No! Don’t say anything,” and twists sideways to smack a pillow into Mike’s face. The boy laughs, obscured by the cloth and stuffing, and Will smushes it harder, hoping to suffocate him.
He pushes blindly at Will’s arm and chest, giggling as he tries to get him to remove the pillow. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry!” Mike apologizes, voice still muffled.
Will decides he’s had enough and lets up.
Mike lifts the pillow off his face as Will sits up, his head tilted back as he looks down his nose at him, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He flings the pillow at Will—and misses terribly; it just barely hits Will’s shoulder and thumps to the floor behind him.
Will barks a laugh at the pout on his boyfriend’s face and Mike kicks him in the leg. Will kicks him back and Mike unfolds his crossed arms to shove at his middle.
The shoving quickly devolves into play-wrestling and they mess up the sheets as they roll around, laughing freely.
Will has flipped them so he’s back on top when El knocks on the door.
He’s straddling Mike and they’re holding hands because Will is trying to pin them down, but Mike is fighting back. “Hi,” Will says breathlessly and he jerks his head to the side to move his still damp bangs out of his eyes, swiftly grabbing Mike’s wrist—the boy having tried to use the momentary distraction as an attempt to tickle him, “Do you need something?”
“No,” El laughs, “Just wanted to see what all the ruckus was.” She backs out of the doorway, “I’ll go now.”
“No, wait—“ Will calls for her, sitting back against Mike’s thighs and letting go of his wrist, but keeping hold of his other hand, just because.
She slinks back into view, “Yeah?”
“Do you know what movies we’re watching tomorrow?” He asks, gaining Mike’s full attention. “Oh, yeah. Do you remember what they decided on?”
El hums, squinting as she taps her finger on her chin. “Oh,” she exclaims, “I’m pretty sure it was ‘The Princess Bride,’ ‘The Outsiders’ again,” she looks pointedly at Mike, who grins, “It’s a good movie!”
She rolls her eyes, going back to thinking, “And… Bug-something? B-Beetle?“
“Beetlejuice?” Will finishes for her and she lights up, pointing at him, “Yeah, that one!”
Will nods, “Okay, thank you,” he draws out the ‘ou,’ “You can go now.” He smiles at her and she sticks her tongue out at him before stepping away and closing the door.
He turns back to Mike and hands come up to hold his hips.
“What time is it?” He asks and Will checks his watch.
“Roughly… Ten after eight,” Will answers, “Why?”
“Just wondering,” He pokes his side in a silent request and Will clambers off him to lay on his side, Mike turning so they’re facing each other. Will scoots closer, the space between them near nonexistent when Mike throws his leg over Will’s.
The sun is just barely setting now, casting a yellow light through the open curtains and it shines on Mike’s onyx hair like a golden halo; Will can’t help but bring his hand up to tuck some behind his ear, fingers lingering over his cheekbone.
Mike tugs the comforter over them with one hand and Will grins, “Time to sleep?” The boy huffs a laugh, “No, not yet.” He places the same hand over the one still on his face, “Actually—Actually, I wanted to ask you something.” Mike takes his hand, moving it down in between them as he fiddles with his fingers, looking at them instead of Will.
Will’s brow furrows and now he’s nervous, but he waits for Mike to continue. “Uhm,” He starts, glancing up for just a second, “Do you—did you—really mean it when you said that… that you wanted to be together forever?”
Will breathes, “What? Of course, I did—do—you dummy.” He makes a soft, incredulous noise. “You’re the one that said it first,” he pokes the other in the chest.
“Well— Yeah, but—but,“ Mike starts, pouting slightly, “No, you’re right. Sorry, I dunno why-“
“Hey, don’t do that,” Will cuts him off, “I’ve wanted to be with you forever since I was, like, nine. So, yes, I meant it.”
“Did you?” He teases, getting Mike to finally look back up at him, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, obviously I did. I said it first, didn’t I?” He mocks playfully, shoving Will’s shoulder when he just stares at him, enamored.
Will laughs, shoving him back and thinks, ‘Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t mind a forever like this.’