Work Text:
“I don’t even know how to dance!” Mike exclaimed, his voice high-pitched and panicked.
“And El does?” Will replied sarcastically.
“No! Of course not!” Mike answered, evidently missing Will’s sarcasm. “Which is why I need to know how! If neither of us know how... I don't know what we'll do.”
In Will's opinion, this was all a little dramatic. The pair were hanging out in the Wheeler’s basement, Mike pacing around frantically while Will watched from the couch. Will had been hoping to play DnD, but Dustin and Lucas had caught the flu and they’d needed to reschedule.
Again.
Not that Will was particularly upset about spending time with just Mike. Mike was his best friend. He just would have liked to talk about something other than girls, dancing, or girls dancing. He tried to banish that sentiment from his mind. He wanted to help Mike, and if helping Mike involved talking about girls, Will would talk about girls.
“I’m sure you can learn to dance, Mike, it isn’t that hard. And there’s a whole week till the Snow Ball, anyway,” Will said.
Mike spun around on his heel and turned to look at Will. His face flushed a blotchy pink. Will pretended he didn’t like the sight of it.
“Who’s going to teach me?” He retorted.
“Your mom?” Will suggested, as Mike made a face of horror.
That was a no, then.
“Nancy?” was Will’s next suggestion, to which Mike made several very gross gagging noises.
“That’s like, incestuous,” Mike replied.
Will rolled his eyes but couldn’t be bothered to argue. He’d been a semi-willing participant in many pointless, circular debates with Mike and it was not the time for another.
“Wait!” Mike exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “You know how to dance, Will! Who taught you?”
Will wanted to bury himself in the couch cushions.
“My mom,” he confessed.
He expected some sort of disgusted reaction, but Mike just nodded, and looked at Will contemplatively.
“You’re not going to call it incestuous or anything?” Will asked, then promptly realized it was tempting fate to question his good fortune like that.
“No!” Mike answered, looking offended. “It’s normal when it’s your mom.” Upon seeing Will’s confused look, he added: “You get it.”
Will didn’t get it, but he decided it was against his best interests to ask any more questions.
Unfortunately, Will often didn’t operate with his own best interests in mind.
“Are you going to ask my mom to teach you to dance?” he asked, unable to stop himself.
“No!” Mike exclaimed, for the third time in two minutes. “I was going to ask you!”
“Oh. That makes more sense,” Will answered, even as he panicked internally.
He couldn’t slow dance with Mike. Mike didn’t know what he was. It would be like tricking him. If he knew, he wouldn’t ask Will to dance anymore. He wouldn’t want to dance with a queer.
“I- I’m not very good,” Will said, not quite meeting Mike’s eyes.
“Come on! It’ll be good practice for both of us,” Mike said, exaggeratedly winking.
Will felt sick to his stomach. Mike didn’t know. How could he? Will hadn’t told anyone, of course he hadn’t, he just played along as if he’d wanted to ask a girl to the dance too. He’d sat back with Dustin and bemoaned their shared lack of dates as if it meant anything to him. Meanwhile, the only one with whom he wanted to dance discussed flirting technique with Lucas. Mike was probably still rooting for Will to ask a girl to dance. Will knew he wouldn’t.
“Will, please? I’m not going to judge if you’re bad at dancing.” Mike pleaded. “You’re probably better than me, at least.”
Being bad at dancing was the least of Will’s worries. Still, it was nice of Mike to be encouraging. He was just so nice. And he looked at Will like Will was his only option, his only hope of learning to dance, and Will hated to disappoint.
“Um, sure,” Will answered.
“Awesome,” Mike said, grinning wide. “How do we start? Where do I put my hands?”
Will laughed in spite of his inner turmoil and stood up. “Well, you’re leading, right?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m a leader,” Mike answered, though he hardly sounded sure of himself.
“Well, the, uh, man usually leads the dance,” Will explained.
“Ohh. Then yeah, I’ll lead. You’re the girl,” Mike replied.
For a second, Will’s mind flashed to all the other times he’d been called a girl. He could almost hear Troy’s voice taunting him- but he did his best to block that out. This was Mike. He was only the girl because he was a placeholder for a girl. For Eleven.
“Okay, so, you put your hands on my- well, her- waist,” Will explained, “and her hands go on your shoulders.”
He tentatively stepped towards Mike and brought his hands to rest on his shoulders, only shaking slightly. Mike hesitated.
"I’m not going to bite you, Mike,” Or… kiss you, he silently added. “El… also won’t bite you, I think.”
“I know!” Mike responded, and promptly put his hands on Will’s waist.
Will felt a surge of guilt and mentally cursed himself for ever agreeing to this. He was tricking Mike. Maybe he hadn’t told a direct lie, but a lie by omission still counted. And he was definitely trying to omit how much he liked the feeling of Mike’s hands on his waist. Mike wouldn’t have suggested this if he’d known that Will would enjoy it like this. It felt perverted- queer.
Will took a deep breath and tried to push away his thoughts. This anguish would all be pointless if he didn’t actually help Mike learn to dance.
“Okay, so, I guess we just kind of sway to the, uh…music?” Will said.
“We don’t have any music,” Mike stated.
“Make something up?” Will suggested. He couldn’t bear to keep standing around with Mike’s hands on his waist. There needed to be some sort of dancing soon.
Mike appeared to consider his choices of songs, before looking at Will and grinning.
“I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar-” Mike started to sing, off-key and very obviously resisting laughter.
Will groaned. “That is not slow dance music, Mike!”
“-when I met youuu. Uh, I picked you up, I-”
“Stop it!” Will exclaimed, though he was laughing harder than he had all day.
Mike paused his ballad, though only because he was giggling too much to continue. Once he had calmed down, he tried to continue.
“Don’t you want me, baby-” Mike skipped the rest of the verse, moved to the chorus, and immediately dissolved into a fit of laughter once again.
Both boys were laughing too much to speak, and Will had almost forgotten his fears. This was Mike. His best friend. He could dance with Mike.
“You have to pick a slow dancing song, Mike!” Will laughed. “Imagine it, don’t start singing again,” he added, upon seeing Mike open his mouth.
Mike thought for a moment.
“Got it,” he said.
“Now, you lead the dance, and just, uh, sway her around to the music.”
Mike nodded and began to sway Will around the basement. Neither boy tried for eye contact. Will stared at a point just past Mike’s shoulder, and tried to avoid glancing at his face at all. The silence felt more than a bit uncomfortable. Will didn’t entirely mind it, though. He wasn’t sure he could have spoken normally anyway.
They danced together for a few minutes, occasional stumbling providing what almost felt like comedic relief. With every passing moment, Will worked harder to stave off the negative thoughts that had gotten into his mind before. In his head, he repeated the phrase, ‘ it’s just your friend, Mike,’ like a mantra. The more he repeated it to himself, the more he almost believed it.
He almost began to enjoy the dancing before quickly remembering he couldn’t. Helping a friend was okay. Helping a friend for your own gross, queer , enjoyment was not. With every sway and turn in their dance, Will reminded himself why he couldn’t- wouldn’t enjoy this. And it worked.
He was thoroughly and utterly miserable.
They’d been dancing for nearly five minutes when Will began to suspect that Mike had forgotten whatever song he’d had in mind.
“How long is this song you picked?” Will asked, finally letting himself glance at Mike.
“Oh! Um, it’s just about over,” Mike said, and quickly stepped away from Will. It was like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders as soon as Mike’s hands were gone.
“So, am I a good dancer now?” Mike asked.
Will smiled.
“You’re alright,” he responded.
Mike clasped his hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. Woooow. Rude! And here I was going to compliment your dancing skills!” He joked.
Will laughed and moved to sit back on the couch. “Sure you were,” he replied.
“Actually though, thanks. You won’t be the only one impressing the ladies now,” Mike said, playfully elbowing Will in the side as he sat down next to him.
Will tried not to let the words sting. He forced a laugh, and frantically tried to think of a normal, nonchalant response.
“I’m not going to dance with any girls,” he said.
Will was no expert on social interaction, but he was certain this was not normal or nonchalant in the slightest. He watched, horrified, as Mike’s face twisted in confusion. Will couldn’t explain this. Not now.
“They’re all taller than me!” Will blurted out, before Mike could speak at all.
Mike only began to look more confused.
“I- well, uh, not all of them?” He tried to reply, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.
Will nodded resolutely and tried his hardest to look crestfallen. “Yes, they are.”
“Well, uh,” Mike still looked baffled. “Not, um, Tiffany Grant.”
“I don’t like her,” Will responded simply.
Mike seemed to give up on the conversation there and didn’t push it any further. Will silently thanked him for that and fiddled with a loose string on his jacket. On a wayward glance, Mike’s watch caught Will’s eye. 5:45.
“I think my mom is expecting me back soon,” Will said. He wasn’t lying.
Mike’s face fell. “Oh, come on!” he whined. “I didn’t even get to show you my new comics!”
Will smiled. Despite all the talk of girls, some things hadn’t changed.
“Next time?” Will asked.
“Next time,” Mike said, and Will took it like a promise.