Work Text:
Long desert roads were overwhelming.
The expanse of pure nothing from every side; the only interruption of the sandy, brown-toned landscape being the cracked and dry asphalt of the empty road. Dull, thinly-feathered birds circled the cloudy grayish-blue sky at all times, just waiting to swoop down and pounce on some unsuspecting little vole, or mouse, or whatever else lived in the giant block of empty space that was fucking Nevada.
So you can imagine Will’s relief when they finally reached an actual motel.
The neon buzz of the tall sign rang in his ears as they stepped out of the van, sighing deeply and stretching out the cramps in their backs.
It wasn’t a very nice place. The pool had clearly been empty for a few years or more and had plenty of mold in the crevices, the parking lot was cracked and worn and overgrown with dry desert plants, and the building itself looked like it might get blown over if you breathed at it the wrong way—but it was a stop, and so it was good enough.
“Man, my butt is numb,” Argyle announced loudly as they traipsed towards the dark little lobby of the building.
“This is so not what I was expecting out of spring break,” Mike said drily, rubbing blearily at his eyes. “I was expecting, like—beaches and palm trees, not an emergency rescue mission with a loud annoying stoner.”
Will snorted.
“You know Lenora doesn’t have beaches, right?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s central California, Mike. Doesn’t even touch the coast.”
“I—“ Mike wilted. “Yeah, okay, I probably should have known that. But whatever, my point still stands.”
They came to a stop in front of the empty front desk, each staring blankly at each other, uncertain as to how to proceed.
“There's a bell,” Mike pointed out. “Maybe ring it.”
Jonathan reached forward, pressing the little button.
Nothing.
“Excuse me?” Jonathan said loudly, repeatedly ringing the bell.
Slowly, a small, bedraggled looking man made his way out from the back room labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY in big block letters on the door.
“Yes.”
“Hi. Um—can we get a room?” Jonathan screwed up his face, rubbing at his eyes to push the sleep away. “Sorry. Two rooms, please.”
“You can.”
He and the man stared at each other for a good thirty seconds, the only sound the others’ breathing and Argyle’s loud, intermittent yawns.
“So, can we—“
“Here.” The man tossed two keys at Jonathan, one hitting him in the face and the other in the chest. They both clattered unsatisfyingly to the floor.
“What the fuck,” Mike whispered in Will’s ear. He pushed down a smile.
“Okay, so? Do we pay here?” Jonathan said as he reached down for the keys, his voice quickly edging from muffled and tired to dead irritated.
“No, you pay thirty miles back.”
Again, they stared blankly at each other.
The man held out his hand.
“Cash only. Especially considering—well. You know.” He gave them all their own individual once-overs, lingering a split-second longer on Mike. Mike scowled back at him in response.
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” he muttered, crossing his arms.
Will stifled back a giggle.
God, the whole situation was absurd. A pushy and sarcastic motel owner was giving them stupid once-overs like they were teenagers skipping school and seeking out a room for—well. What teenagers skip school and go to motels for. They were in the middle of the goddamn desert, on their way to rescue his superpowered adopted sister from God-Knows-What. Their home was being attacked by a supernatural creature, again, and there was nothing they could do about it.
It was like the plot of a goddamn television show, for fucks sake.
Argyle leaned over to Mike.
“I think he’s trying to say that we look like a couple of couples, little Wheeler,” he said in a loud stage whisper. “You seeing what I’m saying, man?”
Mike scrunched up his nose.
“No, I think that we look like a group of people who need a room.” He smacked his hand against the counter, giving the man a dirty look. “Can we please just get a room?!”
“You want one room now instead of two?”
“No!” they all shouted in unison.
Jonathan took a deep breath.
“Look. I paid you already. You gave me the keys. For the love of God, can you please just tell us where the hell the rooms are?”
The man shrugged.
“Go outside and up the stairs. Pick two rooms. No one else is here tonight.”
Jonathan sighed.
“Thank you. Come on, guys, let’s just go.” He handed one of the keys over to Will, keeping the other one clenched tightly in his hand.
He and Argyle chose the first room, with Mike and Will opting for one two rooms down from them.
“What are the odds that Argyle passes out as soon as they walk in,” Will said, reaching for the doorknob.
“Pretty high, if you ask me.”
Will stopped and turned to look at him.
“Pun intended?”
Mike winced.
“No. Not bad, though.”
Will adjusted the key in his hand, groping around the doorknob for the small keyhole. “Oh, and hey, d’you have a preference for what bed?” he asked, twisting the key into the lock. “I usually take the one away from the door, but—“
The door swung open and he stopped abruptly.
“But?” Mike inquired, trying to peer around Will.
Will silently stepped out of the way to reveal the room.
Inside was dingy and suspiciously stained carpet, a TV that looked like it was from 1960, ugly brown striped wallpaper—and a single bed, draped in a yellowed comforter with one sad, singular pillow.
They both stared silently at the bed, neither one wanting to suggest something lest the other want something else.
This… was not good.
“I can just sleep on the floor,” Will blurted out, gripping his backpack straps tightly in his hands. “It’s no big deal.”
“Wha—what?” Mike jerked his head around. “Will, that carpet looks like it’s crawling with disease. You’d probably get three new types of sicknesses just from touching it.”
“But it’s a double. There’s not enough room for both of us,” he protested feebly.
Mike rolled his eyes, grabbing at Will’s shoulder and bunching up the fabric of his shirt to pull him inside the room.
“We’ve been sitting, scrunched up and hunched over, in a hot-boxed van for the past twelve hours. Who gives a shit if the bed’s too small; worst comes to worst, we make a pillow wall in between.”
“I mean, yeah, but—“
Mike gave him a look.
“You’re not sleeping on the floor. That’s stupid.”
Will hesitated.
“I—are you sure?”
“Yes, Will, I’m sure.” He plopped down on the end of the bed, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I mean, we’ve shared a bed a million times, as kids.” He paused. “Dibs on showering first, though.” He grinned, his smile lopsided in that sort of endearing way that it always was. “I’m so not letting you hog all the hot water.”
Will tossed the pillow at his head, laughing quietly.
“Oh, just go shower. I’ll be out here.”
~
Twenty minutes later, and Mike was still not out of the shower.
Will laid on the bed on his back, staring blankly up at the ceiling.
God, this was all so weird.
“Hey, Will?” Mike called out, his voice muffled by the squeaky water of the shower.
“Uh, yeah?” he called back, startled by the noise.
A pause.
“There’s no towels in here.”
Well, shit.
“Um. I’ll go ask the front desk, okay?” He stood up, wincing slightly. “They might have them there.”
“Thank you—oh, and good luck with motel man.”
He grimaced.
“Mmh. Yeah.”
He picked up the key resting on the nightstand, heaving a great sigh and making his way down to the front desk.
He rang the bell.
This time, the man came out after only a single ring, staring pointedly at Will.
“Hi. Um. Towels?” Will offered half-heartedly, shrugging up his shoulders.
“What about them.”
He sighed.
“There aren’t any. In our room, I mean. Can we get some?”
“You can, yes.”
“Oh, for— may we please have towels?!”
Silently, the man reached under the front desk, pulling out a brown towel and sliding it towards Will.
He groaned.
“Two towels, please.”
Another towel slid forward.
Will grabbed them both and spun around without another word, marching out the door and heading back up to the room.
“I’m back,” he called out, locking the door behind him. “Where d’you want me to leave it?”
“Just in here, thank you!”
He hesitated in front of the bathroom door, before reaching out and tentatively twisting the door handle.
Immediately, clouds of steam poured out into the main room.
“Jesus, Mike, how hot do you have that thing?”
“Hot enough,” Mike responded. Abruptly, the sound of the water cut off, and a wet hand poked out from behind the (thankfully opaque) shower curtain. “Thanks, Will.”
“Um. Yeah, no problem,” he said, pointedly looking away as he groped around the air, attempting to blindly set the towel into Mike’s outstretched hand.
Suddenly, before Will could leave the room and go scream into the single dingy pillow they had, because oh dear god, Mike stepped out of the shower, with nothing but the stupid, stupid brown towel wrapped around his waist.
Oh. Jesus. God. Fuck.
“Shit, sorry,” Will cursed, stumbling backwards out of the room and slamming the door behind him. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit—“
Okay, it’s official. God hated him.
He’d faced down inter dimensional creatures, a whole other realm that was trying to kill him, an eldritch monster straight out of Lovecraft, the physical form of said Lovecraftian horror. He’s watched people die, he’s been the reason that people died. He’s been possessed, and kidnapped, and more —and, yet somehow, this (coming face to face with the boy, his best friend, that he was head-over-heels in forbidden love with straight out of the shower with nothing but a towel—and Christ, it sounded even worse like that) was the worst thing that Will Byers had ever experienced.
He dragged his hand down his face, shaking his head sharply.
This was going to be a hell of a night.
~
Will patted the damp towel at the ends of his hair, shaking out the loose strands and spraying droplets of water everywhere.
He had already reluctantly redressed in his old clothes, cringing at the smell of sweat tinged with the iron tinge of blood. He’d ditched his t-shirt, though, electing instead to wear just the button-down on top.
At least the button-down smelled a little bit better.
As he emerged from the bathroom, combing his fingers through his wet hair, Mike looked up, already sitting in bed underneath the covers.
“Hey.”
Will nodded at him.
“Hey. Uh—sorry again for kinda walking in on you earlier, I should’ve let you know I was still in there,” he said, grimacing as he rubbed at the back of his neck.
Mike shrugged.
“All good.”
Will stood there awkwardly, waiting for some kind of an invitation to sit down or get into bed. He wasn’t exactly sure of the proper… etiquette here.
Mike raised an eyebrow.
“You gonna come over here?” he said, gesturing at the space next to him.
“Oh. Yeah, yeah I am,” he started, dropping his t-shirt onto the floor. He stooped down to pick it up, tossing it over to where his backpack sat on the floor. “Lights on, or off?”
“Off. Definitely off.”
He clicked the light switch, blindly making his way over to the bed and feeling his way around, before getting onto his side and stiffly pulling the covers up to his chest.
He pointedly ignored the lack of the promised pillow wall.
There was only one, after all; and what were they supposed to do, put Will’s backpack between them?
“Um. You can have the pillow,” he whispered, nudging the sad little pillow over to Mike’s side. “You know, for letting me stay up here.”
Mike gave him an odd look.
“Just—uh—why don’t you come over here?” he said awkwardly, tugging lightly at Will’s shirt. “We can share it.”
Will’s heart skipped a beat.
“…Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I mean, we’ve essentially been elbow to elbow all day in the van, this isn’t much different.” Mike coughed, clearing his throat. “But like, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”
“No, I—“ He stopped. “We can share it. I don’t mind.”
He scooched closer to Mike, careful to turn his face away from Mike’s, making sure that there was no part of their bodies touching.
If Mike wouldn’t let him sleep on the floor, he was determined to make this as not weird as possible.
His heart beat loud and fast in his chest, pounding uncomfortably against his ribs. He was sure that Mike could hear it, it was so loud; it felt like there was a small man inside his body banging on giant drums.
He laid there silently, his body stiff as a board. A clock ticked mercilessly in the background, the constant tick, tock a rude interjection into his racing mind.
Twenty minutes later, Mike poked him in the shoulder.
“Hey, Will?” he said quietly.
Will rolled over to face him.
“Um—yeah?” he whispered, his body tingling all over from their proximity.
Silence hung in the air between them as Will waited for Mike to respond.
“Are we okay?” he said finally, ripping his eyes away from the ceiling to roll over and look at Will.
“I—what?”
“Are we okay?” Mike repeated. “I dunno, I just—I feel like something is different, you know? Like we’re not as close.”
Will bit his lip.
“I mean—we’re not, I don’t think. We live thousands of miles away now. It’s not going to be the same anymore.”
“But what if I want it to be the same?”
Will swallowed hard.
“Can it be?” he whispered. “Is that even possible?”
Silence again, for a beat.
Two.
“Two thousand, two hundred and sixty five.”
“…What?”
“You said we lived thousands of miles away. We live two thousand, two hundred and sixty five miles away from each other.”
A breath caught in his throat.
“How do you know that?”
Mike inhaled deeply, running a hand through his hair.
“I calculated it. After you moved.”
Oh.
Mike pushed his face even closer to Will’s, their foreheads nearly touching.
“I missed you. A lot. Every day.”
Will pressed his lips together into a sharp line, slowly swiping his tongue across them to stave off the chapped, dry feeling that the whirls of smoke in the van had left him with.
“I missed you too.”
Another pause.
“I did call, you know.”
“Huh?”
“At the roller skating place. You said I never called, but I did; the line was just always busy. El told me that it was your mom’s new job.”
He took a deep, steadying breath, closing his eyes.
Oh.
“I’m sorry, then. For not calling you. I—I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me,” Will whispered, his eyes still pressed tightly shut to push back the sting of the soon to come tears at the corner of his eyes. “I got scared, and I hid. And I’m sorry I blamed you.”
Mike shook his head, his hair scratching lightly against the pillow.
“Don’t be. I think we maybe both fucked up. I—” He opened his mouth, as if to say something, but he quickly closed it. “Never mind.”
“No, what?” Will pressed. “What were you going to say?”
“No, it’s off topic, and I don’t want to be that guy—“
“But maybe I want you to be that guy. I don’t mind, Mike—what were you going to say?”
“It’s just. I keep fucking things up. And I’m sorry for that, is all.”
Will furrowed his brows.
“What do you mean?”
Mike hesitated, before heaving a great big sigh.
“El and I—I think we broke up. Like, for real this time. I think I fucked that up too.”
Will’s mouth formed a solid O of understanding.
“I’m sure you didn’t—“
“I didn’t love her,” Mike interrupted, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “Well, I did, but not in the right way, and she knew it, because I never said it, and when she asked me about it I lied straight to her face because I knew she was right but I didn’t know what to do, and—“
“Mike. Mike.” Will reached out a hand, wrapping it tightly around Mike’s available wrist. “It’s okay, okay? Just—take a deep breath.”
Mike shook his head aggressively.
“It’s not. It’s so not okay. And it’s all my fault, and it’s all such a damn mess, and if I had just said it then we wouldn’t be dealing with this right now and she would want me with her and everything would be okay because she wouldn’t be lost in the middle of the fucking desert, all on her own, surrounded by a bunch of people who don’t care about her for anything more than what she’s capable of.”
“Mike. It is not your fault,” he said harshly, pressing his hand lightly against Mike’s mouth to get him to stop talking.
He blocked out the flutters in his stomach that arose with the action.
Unnecessary right now.
He slowly pulled his hand away, giving Mike a soft but stern look.
“It’s not your fault that she’s gone. Even if you’d said… whatever it was you wished you did, she still would’ve had to go, and you wouldn’t be allowed to come with. And we’re gonna find her, okay? We are. We are.”
Mike allowed a small whimper to escape his lips, though it went disguised by a deep breath.
“I know we’re going to. But—it’s still my fault that we’re through, that we’re done. If I had just loved her the way she wanted me to, we’d be okay,” he whispered.
Will felt something deep inside of his chest crack.
“But you don’t, and that’s not your fault. Some stuff, just—it comes out shitty. It doesn’t mean it’s always anyone’s fault.”
A pause stretched out.
One beat.
Two.
“I don’t think I ever even liked her,” Mike said quietly, breaking the thick silence between them. “I think I maybe just liked the idea of her. I mean, I don’t even know her favorite color—and I know that sounds shallow, and meaningless, but I don’t know anything real about her. And—and she felt like she had to lie to me about what was going on in California, and I’ve been hiding shit from her too, and all of it is such a mess and it could have been prevented if I was just the perfect, normal boyfriend like she deserves.”
“Nobody is perfect, Mike.”
“But you are ,” he blurted out. He shook his head, clearly regretting his words. “You’re, just—you’ve never seemed to have to try with this stuff. You just get it.” He paused. “You just get me.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Will whispered, his heart pounding in his chest.
Mike pressed his lips together. He scooched impossibly closer, holding his fingers only millimeters away from Will’s shoulder.
“I dunno,” he breathed. “And this is a bad idea, and this is a bad time, and oh, lord, I was just bitching about my stupid relationship problems with your sister which probably makes me the worst guy to ever exist, but—“ He inhaled deeply.
“…But?” Will pressed.
Mike looked up at him through his eyelashes—and then he said the words that would send shivers down Will’s spine for years to come.
“But I think you’re the reason I never felt the right way for her.”
Will froze.
“What?” he croaked.
They were millimeters apart, their breathing perfectly matched and even.
Mike looked at him, really looked at him in a way that Will had never seen him look at anyone.
And he got it.
And he nodded.
And in a split second, Mike was rushing towards him, pressing their lips together for an all too brief moment, a moment that ended far sooner than Will wanted it to.
As Mike pulled away, his eyes big, round, and anxious, Will stared at him.
“Are you sure you’re not still riding a second-hand high from the van?” he blurted out.
Mike let out a short, barking laugh.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m pretty damn sure.”
Will took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to do.
“Okay.“
Then Will was rushing in, and Will was pushing them together, and in an instant, the anxiety of the movement melted away because Mike was kissing him back.
He smiled into the kiss, and Mike pulled them even closer. It was unclear as to where one boy ended and the other boy started, they were so impossibly close; and in the safety of the night, Will couldn’t find it in himself to get up to close the curtains, instead enjoying the shining neon lights streaming in through the dirty window.
The intensity of the kiss was overwhelming, the way it was so enveloping; fast hands grabbed out, reaching for the hints of bare ribs, their shirts pulled up to their navels to make room for the nervous but steady fingers brushing against each others’ sides. Heavy, rushed breathing filled the little space between them, wrapping into the corners of their minds until focusing on the sound of their breathing was the only coherent thought left in Will’s brain, because he was kissing Mike Wheeler in a shitty little motel room with one bed and no towels, for fuck’s sake!
Soon enough, Will was vaguely aware of the fact that his fingers were tangled into the thick black curls at the base of Mike’s neck. He tugged experimentally on one of them, flushing at the little noise Mike made in response.
It was the kind of kiss that made him sure that if you tried to ask him a question right at that very moment, the only words he’d be able to procure would be a misshapen ‘mmnhgh’ in response. Every thought in his brain had been taken over by Mike, Mike, Mike Mike Mike Mike Mike!!
And god, after years of waiting, and hoping, and denying, all Will wanted was more. To have his hands wrapped in Mike’s for the rest of time, to stand at the end of the world together, to be and to live and to be happy and safe in each others’ arms.
It was, quite possibly, the first time in Will’s life that he let himself feel greedy, that he allowed himself to want more than the fleeting daydreams that he pushed away and hid deep in his chest whenever they popped up; more than the appropriate friendly distance between them that he’d restricted himself to.
It was, at least, certainly the first time he’d allowed himself to be kissed stupid.
But all too soon, Mike was pulling away, leaving Will high off of the exhilaration as he stared at him with round, saucer-sized eyes.
If this was a cartoon, Will was pretty sure he’d have giant hearts pulsing out of his goddamn eyes.
“Jesus fuck, Will,” Mike gasped, his breathing fast and heavy. Will’s heart was still racing from the energy and excitement of the kiss, his hands quivering and his breath shaky. “Please, please don’t tell me that was your first kiss, because you’re gonna end up making me look really bad.”
Will laughed, pressing his hand up to his mouth to muffle the sound.
“Oh my god. Oh my god, it was, I—“ Mike tossed his hands up in the air. “You know what, I don’t even care.” He yanked lightly on Will’s arms, tugging him forward and making him topple onto Mike’s lap. “You mean to tell me that I got to be your first kiss?”
“Oh, come on,” Will protested, sitting himself back up and fighting back a wide smile. From the looks of it, Mike was trying really hard to push down one of his signature grins. “It’s not that big a deal.”
“Yes it is!”
“No, it’s not!”
“Will.” Mike tilted his head down, looking up at him through his lashes. “I, Micheal Wheeler, certified loser of Hawkins High, get to be Will Byers, the Lenora Hills heartthrob’s first kiss. I’d call that a big deal.”
Will groaned.
“Oh my god, El told you.”
“About who? Stacy, or Allison?” Mike finally let himself grin. “Or is there someone else I need to fight to the death for my title?”
Will snorted.
“Like I’m particularly interested in any of them.”
“Oh, so there were more?”
He buried his face in his hands.
“Okay, so yeah, there were a fair few girls who wouldn’t leave me alone.” He glanced up, a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth. “Don’t care though. This is better.”
“Oh, really?”
Even with the darkness of the room and the fluorescent neon lighting from the big motel sign outside bringing a colorful shine through the window, it was easy to tell that Mike was flushed a light blushy pink.
Will put on his best flirty smile, leaning in close and trailing his fingers up Mike’s arm.
“Yeah. A lot better.” He pressed a deep, soft kiss against Mike’s lips, tugging him forward and wrapping his arms loosely around Mike’s shoulders and neck. “Besides, you’re my loser anyways. Wouldn’t trade this for the world.”