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Dry mouthed, and reeking of pot, Mike couldn’t stop giggling.
He was laying across Will’s lap, his long, curly hair an oil spill on his thighs. He giggled over the sound of The Clash, which Will had insisted they put on, and felt utterly blissful. Will grinned wide, a lax, lazy smile, and took a long drag of their joint. That smile looked good on him. Eventually, Mike’s laughter ceased, and he motioned for Will to pass him the joint, before realizing that Will’s eyes were shut. Snorting, he said,
“Fuck, stop hogging it Byers.”
With a resigned sigh, that he was much too high to make sound convincing, Will lowered the joint and Mike plucked it from his outstretched fingers.
“What’s so funny, anyway?” Will drawled, head hanging back against the lip of the couch.
Exhaling, a plume of wispy smoke curling out from his mouth, Mike shrugged - knocking against Will’s leg with the movement.
“I dunno,” he huffed, “Fucking everything.”
“Very descriptive,” he snarked.
“I’m just happy,” Mike’s eyes slipped closed, and he settled further into Will’s lap. He shivered, feeling the denim of Will’s shorts scratch against the back of his neck.
“Yeah?” Will asked, softly, his hand coming down to card through his curls. The light scrape of blunt nails felt way too good against Mike’s scalp.
He hummed, and then laughed at the feeling of his throat vibrating, before humming louder. Will snorted, and, at the sound, Mike laughed uproariously - stopping for a second, just to imitate his snort, before laughing even harder. He laughed until his face hurt, and he stopped to marvel at the feeling. The ache felt like absolute euphoria.
“Funny how life fucking turns out,“ his body became limp, and relaxed, “Like, we’re sat in this apartment that the fucking government gave you, and we’re smoking pot I stole from Eddie.”
“Thought I’d be dead by now,” Will added, with a wry twist to his lips.
“Too bad you’re not,” Mike teased, and then grunted, faking pain, as he smacked him across the arm.
“Shut up, Wheeler. You’d be crying buckets daily, if I was dead.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He hit him again, and this time it did hurt.
“Ow! Shit, yes, I’m so very glad you’re alive.”
“Much better,” he drawled, head lazily rocking from side to side, almost absentmindedly.
They fell into a soft silence.
Both basking in the heady sensations of their highs, they trailed scarred hands across each other's skin, against the backs of their arms and legs. Lightly, Will mapped out the plains of Mike’s face, as if to remind himself of his features. When he reached the bow of Mike’s lips, Mike snapped his teeth forward, narrowly missing the tip of Will’s finger.
“Fucking weirdo,” Will muttered, eyes glistening with something that Mike couldn’t quite make out. Something fond, but heady and hot. Mike just grinned up at him, snapping his jaws at the air once more, making Will snort.
They lay there, passing the joint to one another, until it burnt down to the roach.
“Dare you to eat it,” Mike shoved the roach toward his face, and Will’s nose wrinkled at the idea.
“You are so fucking weird. No, obviously.”
“Okay, chicken,” Mike waved it right under his nose, before squawking, impersonating the chicken that he obviously was.
“Oh my God. Shut up.”
“Bwaaak, bwaaak, bwaaaaaak!”
“Fucking-” he snatched the roach from his fingers, slightly clumsily, before shoving it into his mouth. Wincing, he chewed quickly and swallowed it down. “Happy?”
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it,“ Mike snorted, "And you called me weird-"
When Will went to hit him again, Mike just clutched Will’s hand in his own, and squeezed lightly. Instantly, the tension in Will’s body eased, and he sunk back into the couch behind him.
Mike groaned as he stretched, like a cat waking from a particularly good nap, and turned into Will’s body. Sighing softly, he burrowed into his stomach, his nose brushing against bare skin - where Will’s shirt had ridden up. The muscles there jumped and clenched at the feeling of warm breath, and, just to see them twitch again, Mike blew a stream of cold air onto Will’s belly button.
“I’ve missed you, you know,” Mike mumbled, arms coming up to cling around Will’s sides, as he nuzzled closer.
“Mike,” Will smiled, his fingers twisting Mike’s curls around them, “We’re around each other all the time, like pretty much everyday.”
“No, I mean,” Mike started, scraping his nails against the exposed skin of Will’s back, “I miss having you all to myself. Like, we’re always with the party, and the party’s great, but sometimes I just miss this. Just us, you know?”
“Oh,” Will breathed, fingers twitching almost reflexively.
“And, I miss having you be like this too.”
“Like what?”
“All relaxed and shit,” Mike settled his hands, hanging his thumbs from Will’s back belt loops. “Like, I can touch you and it doesn’t set you on edge, or whatever.”
“You want to touch me?” Will asked, in a sort of dazed awe. Mike was so glad he didn’t have to look Will in the eyes for this conversation.
“Uh, well, yeah,” he mumbled, “Of course I do, you’re my best friend. And, it just feels nice, you know?”
“Huh.”
“If you don’t want me to-” Mike quickly backtracked, at Will’s lackluster response.
“No!” Will cut in, “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind, like at all; I just thought you didn’t want to.”
“Why?”
“Uhm, I dunno. Just, like, didn’t think you wanted me to touch you. So, I haven’t.”
“That’s dumb,” Mike rubbed his cheek against the skin of Will’s exposed hipbone, and felt Will shiver at the touch. “You’re so touchable.”
Barking a laugh, Will asked, “What?”
“Just look at yourself, all freckles and dumb bowl cut. You’re so damn soft looking.”
“Shut up,” Will groaned, sounding embarrassed.
“Even though you’re so fucking broad-”
“Broad?” Will cut in again, head shooting down to look at Mike.
“Yes, broad,” Mike asserted, “Literally look at your shoulders.”
“Are you calling me fat right now?”
“No, oh my God. You’re broad. Like weirdly athletic looking.”
“Athletic?” Will choked on a laugh.
“Yeah! You look fucking strong, with your wide shoulders and actually kinda muscled arms.”
Will couldn’t stop laughing, and Mike rolled back onto his back, just to watch.
“And,” he went on, “Those tight fucking shirts you wear all the time don’t help.”
“What?” A wide grin stretched across Will’s face. It looked so fucking good on him.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re the harlot with his tits on display all the time.”
Jaw dropping, Will locked his eyes with Mike, before gasping out,
“Excuse me? Harlot? Tits?”
“You are practically bursting through those little nerd shirts, all the damn time.”
“Tits?” Will repeated, incredulous.
“Yes, tits! What, would you rather I call them pecs?”
“I’d rather you didn’t call them anything,” Will raised his eyebrows, before covering his aforementioned tits with his arms, like an affronted maiden. “Ignore them, if they bother you so much.”
“I wish I could,” Mike grumbled, “They’re very distracting.”
Will seemed to choke on his spit, and cleared his throat repeatedly.
“Sorry?” he said, the word lilted into a question.
“Hm, as you should be,” Mike muttered, before turning back into Will’s stomach, arms looping back around the stretch of his back.
Silence fell upon them again, a thicker, warmer sort of silence.
One, where Will couldn’t tear his eyes from Mike’s relaxed form, all long limbs sprawled out over him, and Mike nuzzled against every inch of bare skin he could touch. He couldn’t get enough contact, basking in the sensation of Will, and his warmth, and his skin. An overeager puppy, movements made lazy and slow by his high.
On impulse, Mike pressed his mouth, lips plush and dry, against the skin below Will’s belly button. Time froze, as Will tensed - his entire frame going rigid. Both he and Mike held their breath, suspended in the moment.
Then, Mike blew a raspberry onto Will’s skin, and the tension broke. Will laughed a strangled chuckle, and Mike couldn’t help himself, going onto blow more raspberries on the silken skin. When his lungs ached, he just rested there, leaving his lips lightly brushing right above the edge of Will’s shorts.
Dry mouthed, he licked his lips, and heard Will gasp at the sensation - Mike’s tongue brushing against the plush of his stomach. Gently, he dragged his slack lips across Will’s stomach, lightly laving his tongue over the V of Will’s hips, before coming to rest at his hip bone. He opened his mouth ever so slightly wider, and softly bit down on the bone.
“Mike,” Will murmured, his voice shaky, “What are you doing?”
Mike froze, before reluctantly pulling back - leaving Will’s skin shiny and spit slick. Swallowing hard, Mike looked up, meeting Will’s eyes. Will stared back down at him, eyes full of a heart breaking confusion, and a muted sort of hope. Mike took a deep breath, feeling his lungs rattle with the force of it.
“Is this okay?” he whispered, his words feeling much too loud.
Rapidly, Will blinked, stunned into silence. Mike’s nerves returned in full force.
“Sorry,” he bit out, averting his eyes, “I’ll stop. Sorry.”
Stiffly, he raised himself onto his elbows, lifting himself off of Will, before his face was dragged upward. Will cupped his cheeks with trembling hands, digging into the swell of his face a little too firmly, and forced Mike to meet his eyes.
“Mike,” Will whispered, fucking awed.
“Will,” Mike responded in turn, eyes darting down to Will’s lips. They were wet, and flushed, and absolutely biteable.
Licking his lips, Will leaned further into Mike’s space, bending his head down. Mike could feel his breath against his lips, and he ached with the strain of keeping himself still.
“Is this okay?” Will asked, mirroring Mike’s words, eyes flicking between Mike’s own and his lips.
“Yes,” Mike breathed, “Please.”
Will’s hand shifted to grip at the back of Mike’s neck, the other cupping his jaw, as he brought their lips together. Slick heat sliding against one another, noses brushing and knocking, and it was gentle, and tender, and rich.
It was pure Will.
With a soft smack, their lips parted but they remained tightly close to one another - foreheads pressed together. Grinning wide, Mike brushed his nose against Will’s, like an affectionate cat.
“Thank you,” he whispered, and smiled wider at how Will snorted at his words.
“You’re welcome,” Will said, tone fond and voice thick, before giggling quietly to himself.
Mike desperately wanted to know what his laughter tasted like. And, as Will leaned back into him, he found out.
It was saccharine sweet. Pure sugar.