Chapter Text
December 10th 1995 11:30 pm
Something’s wrong with Mike. Well, not like, wrong-wrong, but Will can tell when he’s not acting like his usual self. He notices it now as he looks into the mirror on their wardrobe, seeing Mike sitting on the bed aimlessly fidgeting with his hands, completely unaware that someone’s watching. Will knows better than to pry just yet, not until they’re both settled in.
He pauses for a moment, deciding what to do. Then he sees Mike begin to gnaw on his thumbnail and that’s when Will pulls his plaid pyjama pants from the cupboard and starts to put them on. “Hey, look,” he says, turning around to show Mike what he’s wearing. Hopefully this will help.
Mike jumps slightly, as if coming to life. “Oh– oh! Yes, you admitted defeat!” he exclaims, though Will can still see some of that nervous fidgetiness in his hands.
Tutting, Will looks down at himself and sighs. “Yeah, not your worst idea, I guess,” he murmurs, then looks up to find Mike has already tossed off the covers, presenting Will with the matching pair of pyjamas, smiling that big, sleepy grin of his.
“Told you it would be cute,” Mike giggles, holding his arms out in a tired, inviting beckon. Will happily wanders over and flops onto the bed, letting their legs tangle together. He tucks his head beneath Mike’s chin, feeling lips pressed against his head a few times as arms wrap around his torso. The feeling of the duvet coming to rest over the top of both of them is a welcoming one.
“Mm, they are warm,” Will sighs, closing his eyes. The light’s still on, but he really, really can’t be bothered to get up right now. “Did you…” He opens his eyes and looks up at Mike. “Did you turn the heating on?”
Mike clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Yes, but you know how it is.” Will nods and shivers, but he doesn’t really mind; Mike’s a pretty good replacement heater, especially with his breath drifting over Will’s head and his lips brushing against his temple.
For a moment, silence settles between them. Normally, Will would take this chance to relish in Mike rubbing his thumb over his back, or maybe ask him to play with his hair. But tonight, something feels off. He can hear Mike’s heartbeat where his ear rests against his chest, and it's thumping a little faster than usual. The way Mike’s fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt instead of teasing Will about the pyjamas he’d sworn he wouldn’t wear worries him.
Taking a deep breath, Will speaks up. “Michael.”
“Uh-oh,” he hears jokingly above his head. Will leans away, shifting his head onto the pillow to face Mike. “Am I in trouble?”
Shaking his head with a smile, Will studies Mike’s face in the soft glow of the lamp light. His eyes are wide open, not the usual half-lidded look they’d have this time of night, and his nose sort of twitches nervously.
“No, no,” Will softens, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Mike’s face before resting his palm on his cheek. Mike seems to enjoy it at least, a small smile creeping across his face. “I just wanna know why you’re acting so nervous.”
Mike’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment before he tries to feign nonchalance by looking away. “Ner- nervous? What gave you that impression, I am… super cool–”
“You’re very fidgety tonight Mike,” Will continues, gently grabbing Mike’s hand under the covers, where he was nervously tugging at the fabric of his shirt again. “And you’re barely being annoying about my pyjamas,” he adds, tightening his legs around Mike’s, leaning in to find that Mike’s breath is uneven. “Whassup?”
Mike’s eyes dart over Will’s face before he licks his lips and places a soft kiss on the bridge of Will’s nose. “I can be annoying about your pyjamas if you want, I mean, it’s very easy.”
Will raises an eyebrow knowingly, but doesn’t respond. After a pause, Mike sighs, his expression changing. “It’s nothing, just… wondering if I missed anyone’s Christmas presents.”
Frowning, Will leans back just as Mike’s about to kiss him, laughing lightly, “You’re such a bad liar.” Mike opens his mouth to retort, but no words come out, and he looks away.
“Hey, hey, you can tell me,” Will giggles, softly grabbing Mike’s chin to make eye contact.
“You can tell me,” he repeats carefully, rubbing his fingers up Mike’s jaw, knowing how much that weakens him. “I won’t be mad,” he adds, drawing out the words.
Mike hesitates for a moment, and Will stays patient, passing the time by watching the way his nose and mouth twitch with nerves. He blinks slowly at Mike, silently encouraging him to speak.
“My…” Will nods at the word encouragingly. “So, my mom called,” Mike says with a sigh.
Why would that be such an issue? Will tilts his head, silently asking for more. Then he sees it—that look in Mike’s eyes, the one that Will’s become all too familiar with over the seven years they've been together. His automatic response to that Look is to rub Mike’s shoulder, tell him that he knows , that he understands.
Will could say more—he could tell Mike all the things he thinks about telling his family that they’re more than just two best friends living together. But that never seems to go anywhere, and there’s no use stressing Mike out over it.
But here they are again. Will takes a breath and shifts in the sheets, nodding a little. “O-kay… about Christmas?”
With his hand mindlessly scratching over Mike’s side underneath the covers, Will feels every time Mike stiffens, every subtle movement, every attempt to downplay his emotions.
“Sort of,” Mike mumbles, scratching his head. “She…” He takes a deep breath, seeming to resign himself, trying on a smile before finally looking back at Will with a strained, almost-happy expression.
“She said you should spend Christmas with us,” he exclaims, holding his breath as he awaits Will’s response.
Will scrunches his mouth to the side and nods, though his expression doesn’t match Mike’s look of anticipation. “Sure! That- that sounds great, why… Why are you so nervous?” he laughs a little, moving his hand up to Mike’s shoulder and gently massaging it.
Mike seems frozen, eyes wide. “Uh– is that not… weird to you?”
Frowning, Will’s hand halts, feeling sleepiness creeping in. “‘S not weird. I mean, my parents are off on vacation, and I was just gonna see Jonathan and Nance in Chicago. Yeah, this is way better!” he says enthusiastically.
Will had gotten used to spending the past couple years visiting only his side of the family, but he has to admit, it’s not like he hasn’t dreamed about what Christmas Day would be like with the Wheelers. In fact, he can’t remember a year where he hasn’t imagined it. The shiny excitement of it all—Mike always got the most amazing presents when they were kids—his beautifully decorated house, the basement being all cozy during the holidays—it all sounded so… perfect. And sharing it with Mike? Even more so.
“You really think?” Mike murmurs. Will’s brows furrow in confusion.
He leans a bit closer, trying to push aside the part of his brain telling him Mike doesn’t want him around for Christmas—it’s simply not true. They’ve talked at length about how much they wish they could spend Christmas together, but it’s complicated. It would look a certain way—after all, it’s not like Mike’s inviting Dustin or Lucas along.
So, this definitely isn’t about Mike not wanting to spend time with him. That can’t even be an option.
It’s something else. “Yeah, you know I’ve always wanted to do that,” Will says softly. “Mike.” Mike’s eyes are all distant again, and he’s nervously gnawing on his thumbnail. “What are you thinking, hm?”
Mike seems to soften at the gentle tone, chewing on his lips slightly as his eyes dart around Will’s face. “I… I don’t know.”
Will decides to press harder. “Do you not want me with you on Christma–”
Before he can finish, Mike swiftly interrupts, his hands coming to rest on Will’s neck. “No! I mean—yes, yes I want you with me. Of course, Will, of course,” he says, his voice slowly dropping from a slight yell to a whisper. “It’s just…”
Watching as Mike squeezes his eyes shut in frustration, Will knows it’s time for something more, something that works every time. Slowly, he wraps his own arms around Mike’s back, pulling him in so carefully that Mike barely even notices, or maybe he does and just doesn’t say anything about it, gladly resting his forehead on Will’s chest. As soon as he feels Mike’s nose against his sternum, Will lets out a calming breath.
“It’s just how she said it,” Mike finally begins, his voice a little muffled against Will’s shirt. Success. Encouraging him with a kiss on his head, Will hums, taking in the familiar scent of their shampoo.
“What did she say?” Will asks.
“Something about how we’re living together, something…” Mike trails off, and Will can tell he’s starting to fight sleep, likely feeling the fatigue creeping in. After a couple seconds of this pensive silence, Will honestly thinks Mike’s truly fallen asleep, and a little rush of affection flows through him. But then, he remembers how much he really wants to know what’s going on with Karen:
It’s no secret that Mike and Will have a different type of friendship. Of course, they’re far from just friends, but Mike’s family should have no clue about it, right? All except Nancy, who’s been sworn to secrecy by Mike multiple times. While Will can chuckle and roll his eyes at his boyfriend for being so dramatic, for being so careful whenever his family visits Manhattan or when they both visit Hawkins, he can’t help but feel that twinge of guilt. Because Mike does all those dramatic things for a reason.
“Did you seriously fall asleep?” Will says into Mike’s hair, raising his voice slightly.
Mike startles, clearly on the verge of sleep even with the light on. He sniffs, lifts his head, and blinks blearily at Will. “What? No, no, I was just thinkin’.” He stifles a yawn, probably adorably assuming that Will can’t see it.
He can’t help but grin at this, running his fingers through Mike’s hair as he gives him an incredulous look. “Carry on, Mike.”
As if the soft words of encouragement were all he needed, Mike sharply inhales and lets the breath out, nodding as he subconsciously leans into the fingers on his scalp. “Right, right, well she– she said something about it being time .”
Will halts his scratching. “Time?”
“Yeah,” Mike mumbles, his eyes fighting to stay open as he stifles yet another yawn. “She said something… like… time for you to…” His words trail off, and warmth blooms in Will’s chest. Unable to resist, he leans forward and connects their lips just as Mike’s eyes slip closed. A small noise escapes him, making the urge to laugh at him even harder to fight off.
“Sorry, I can’t…” Mike chuckles as they pull away, and Will wonders if he’s giddy or just tired, judging by the red blush creeping up his cheeks. “I can’t explain…”
“It’s okay, Mike, you’re so tired,” Will coos, cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumb over his chin, knowing this will just make Mike even more adamant. Over the years, he’s figured out how to get his way with Mike—saying things like this sometimes emboldens Mike to prove himself somehow, and other times, or Mike just becomes a melty, sappy mess. Will doesn’t really mind which one he gets right now.
He seemingly gets the former. Mike widens his eyes. “Hey– okay, she… she said it’s time for us all to have a proper Christmas. Because, you and me, we’ve been living together for a while and…” He lets Will figure out the rest.
“Ohh, right,” Will whispers, finally understanding what’s gotten Mike so worked up. After a beat to think about the possibilities, he turns back to the man with a desperate look on his face, and bridges the gap between them in a small, chaste kiss. “That doesn’t have to mean what you think–”
Will’s eyes fly open when Mike huffs and turns from pressing their foreheads together to lying on his back. “But what else could it mean, Will? It’s like, maddeningly obvious that she suspects something.”
The worried tremor in Mike’s voice sends a shiver up Will’s spine. He quickly searches for a way to make it better, reaching out to gently rest his hand on Mike’s tense shoulder. “It could mean many– many things.”
Mike squeezes his eyes shut. “Like what?”
Shaking his head, Will struggles to come up with an answer—he has to admit, it’s looking pretty clear what’s happening. He’s surprised by his own reaction, his stomach dropping to his toes, only being able to imagine how Mike must be feeling.
“I– I don’t really know, but–” Mike turns to look at him, his expression even more distressed now. Will’s grip immediately tightens, his other hand coming to Mike’s cheek. His skin feels smooth, soft. “But maybe, even if she knows something, maybe this is like… an olive branch thing? Like she’s trying to say she’s okay?”
Mike’s eyes dart around the room. Will knows he’s in deep thought so he opts to keep his hand on his shoulder, rubbing slow, soothing circles, mindful of his fragile state. Will knows it’s a little inappropriate to be admiring Mike’s face in such a tense moment but he can’t help it. There’s something about the way Mike concentrates—the little divot between his brows, the way he licks his lips, the way he scrunches his nose.
His boyfriend is cute , that much is certain. It’s also a fact that this cuteness somehow gets amplified at this time of night. Will feels a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and settles for nuzzling his face into the side of Mike’s, letting the warmth of his skin seep into his own. He can’t help it—he hums contentedly, enjoying himself, hoping Mike mirrors it.
When he presses his lips to the swell of Mike’s cheek, he finally elicits a response. “What if she’s trying to get me to tell her?” It’s like he hadn’t even registered the affection he’s receiving right now. Will groans quietly, but it doesn’t keep Mike from talking.
“What if– what if she’s known for ages? Oh god, how long has she known?” Mike’s voice starts to rise in panic. Will leans back, raising a single eyebrow. “Shit, and I’ve been keeping it from her all this time and she’s known ? She must feel so horrible, like I’m a terrible son– and now she’s confronting me! Shit–”
Will knows this mood well. He senses the thrumming, frenetic energy radiating off Mike as he sits up slightly, spiraling into his thoughts. Swiftly, Will goes to gently guide him back down, shushing him.
“Shh, she would never think that, Mike,” Will urges as Mike settles back into the pillows, head sinking in deeply, eyes closed as soft breaths escape his nose. Brushing the hair back from his forehead, Will goes down to press a kiss there, smiling when he sees Mike’s lips curve upward. “You’re a wonderful son.”
Mike frowns again and opens his eyes. “She won’t think that, though. Not when I have to tell her.”
“ Mike ,” Will whispers with concern, wishing he could take all those negative thoughts and shove them out of their bedroom.
“I mean, she’ll think I’ve been lying to her for years . Right? That’s gotta feel like a… like a betrayal.” Mike’s chest rises and falls in quick succession. Will’s heart tightens as he senses Mike’s anxiety; he understands exactly how he feels—the fear, the pressure, the immense weight of what he’d be admitting.
Will shifts on the bed, keeping a loving hand on Mike’s head, his fingertips scratching lightly at the roots of his hair. “You know…” he sighs, almost grinning at the way Mike wraps his legs around Will’s hips subconsciously. “ I felt that way too. Before I told you everything about my feelings and stuff…”
Mike’s brows furrow first in confusion, then in concern. Will can feel that he’s about to sit up and try and comfort him, but he’s quick to press Mike back down into the blankets. He carries on, speaking carefully now.
“I mean, obviously I was scared about you not… feeling the same way,” Will says, feeling silly now that they’re literally in bed together, wearing matching pyjamas. “But I also felt this weight, from how much I was keeping from you. I never want to lie to you, but I had to keep the truth from you so many times. And we never want to do that to be people we love, do we?”
Mike, his mouth slightly agape, nods and appears to be searching for words. “You… you should never feel guilty for that, Will, okay? Do you… still?”
Letting out a soft laugh, Will feels that familiar surge of affection run through him. He runs his hand down from Mike’s hair to his cheek, smoothing his thumb over the jut of his cheekbone. “No. I don’t, and I never should have. Just like how you shouldn’t feel guilty right now, with your mom, okay?”
Blinking rapidly, Mike opens his mouth as if to argue, but seemingly decides against it, nodding instead. Will can hardly resist it anymore—he leans down to rest his face against Mike’s, rubbing their noses together as he feels the gentle brush of his eyelashes on his own cheek.
“You okay now?” Will whispers, encouraging Mike to speak with a couple kisses on his mouth, his chin, the corners of his lips.
Mike hums in delight. “In terms of Will stuff, yeah,” he giggles, tilting his face upward to catch more of the lips he’s enjoying. “I’m still a lil’ nervous for what’s to come, though,” he breathes out after a few seconds.
Will stops, wrapping his hands underneath Mike’s back, knowing they’ll probably lose all blood flow but not caring. He nods. “Just remember I’ll be with you this time. If I’m being honest, I’m kind of excited to spend Christmas with you. I mean, of course I am! We’ve always wanted that, right?”
Going to rest his head on Mike’s chest, Will’s heart lights up at the feeling of Mike’s own faint heartbeat beneath his ear, quickening slightly.
“Yeah, God, yeah,” Mike sleepily mumbles, and Will feels the covers being drawn over him as his boyfriend curls up, shifting them both so they’re completely intertwined on their sides, sharing body heat. “We can… we can wake up together on Christmas Day, and you can watch Holly open her gifts. That’s always fun. Well, it was when she was a kid, but still. And we can do other cheesy stuff, anything… anythin’ you want.”
Pleasantly, Will hums at the ideas swirling in his mind, especially when he feels fingers tracing little shapes on his back, lips brushing softly against the top of his head. The light’s still on, but there is no way in hell either of them have the energy to get up and turn it off, so Will settles for the warm orange glow peeking through his eyelids. It fades darker when he buries his head further into Mike’s chest, his comforting scent engulfing him.
“See?” The word is thick with sleep now, and it feels like both an hour and a minute since he last spoke. “We’ll… have so much fun, Mike,” Will mumbles, drawing out his boyfriend’s name at the end.
There’s no answer and Will almost laughs, if he had the energy. Mike’s always been a heavy, quick sleeper, the first to fall asleep between them pretty much every night. The soft, even breaths Mike exhales into Will’s hair wash over him like warm honey. The sound is a candle, glowing on the windowsill of a snowy cabin, and Will’s home.
There had been a thought gnawing at him while they were talking—that this Christmas could be harder than the others, despite getting to spend it together. Will sighs, and that thought is quiet. He relishes in the calming rhythm of Mike’s soft snoring, the strands of Mike’s hair melding with his own chestnut brown ones. The cold weather gives him the perfect excuse to hold Mike close, sharing his natural warmth.
Will would change anything about this holiday for Mike, if he could, but honestly, Will doesn’t think it could be any sweeter or finer than this.
December 23rd 1995 5:45 pm
Will knows it’s been far too long since they’ve talked about It. Not like he hasn’t tried—on more than one occasion, Will has walked into a conversation practically begging Mike to open up about how he feels regarding Karen probably, maybe, definitely knowing that they’re more than just two best friends living together. But every time, he’s met with a tense smile and a not-so-subtle, but impressively smooth, subject change.
Will can manage, but he’s not sure if Mike can. After years of extensive communication lessons from his mother—and sister, sometimes—Will knows that avoiding an inevitable subject will only lead to stress, breakdown and hardship. He’s most definitely worried that this is happening to Mike right now, as the time swiftly approaches for him to visit his family—a family that, just a month ago, seemed blissfully unaware of their relationship.
The signs are all there. Will sees it most clearly when they begin the packing process. Mike silently refuses to engage, busying himself with other things or retreating from the situation entirely with poorly executed excuses. It honestly makes Will want to scream.
He supposes he shouldn’t be so hard on Mike, though. It’s understandable. While avoidance isn’t how he would handle this, he can see why Mike might want to.
But Will’s not sure he can keep quiet or tip-toe around the subject any longer. It’s agonising to watch Mike biting his fingernails whenever the subject of going home comes up. Will hates this strange, tense, unspoken strain between them that he knows will remain unaddressed unless he’s the one to make the first move.
The time has snuck up on them. It’s now the day before they fly out to Indiana, and the Karen issue hasn’t gone far past a small mention before Mike shut it down, saying he didn’t want to talk about it. Will can’t be bothered to dwell on it right now, though. For now, he’s very much content to stand in their kitchen, frosting the last of the sugar cookies he hopes will make a good impression. (As if the Wheelers don’t know him the most out of anyone outside their family.)
It’s that time of year where nothing but Christmas music plays on the radio, and while Will might usually find it a little grating, today he doesn’t mind. The music, the scent of the frosting, the sight of their pathetic but charming little tree in the corner of the living room, all create a warmth, pooling in the bottom of his stomach. Of course, he’s always dreamt of spending the holiday with Mike’s family, at his house, where basically both of them grew up. But he also wouldn’t say no to spending Christmas right here, in their apartment filled with shared memories, even if it meant not seeing anyone else but his boyfriend all day.
Will’s making an infinitely messy job of this, he thinks, at least. He grimaces before he hears a soft shuffling behind him. A chin rests on his shoulder, overlooking his work, and a voice murmurs, “Mm, I’ll have one of those–”
Batting the hand away, Will ignores the mock indignation on Mike’s face. “They’re not for you, mister,” Will states, holding back a laugh as Mike makes a theatrical hmph sound and rests his chin back on Will’s shoulder.
“They’re for your family.”
“Why?”
Will scoffs. “It’s called being a good guest. I’m trying to… make a good impression.”
“You do know they’ve met you before, right?” Mike teases, though his voice is dripping with affection. They both know how much Will just wants to be liked.
Will starts to respond, but he’s a little interrupted by his mouth curling upwards when he feels arms wrap around his middle. Mike’s face is further pressed into his shoulder, and a soft kiss lands there. He could really, really get used to this. If he could, he would pause this moment in time, even if it meant missing out on Christmas and everything else.
“W- well, yes obviously , but…” Will wants to take a deep breath, but he hesitates, wondering if Mike might guess what he’s about to say. “This is our first Christmas with them where we’re a… a couple,” he stammers out, keeping his voice as even as possible and clearing his throat.
Mike doesn’t stop his trail of soft kisses over Will’s shoulder, even through the fabric of his sweater, before travelling to the skin of his neck. Occasionally, he brushes his nose there, sending thrills up Will’s spine. For a moment, he wonders if he should repeat himself, until he feels the low vibration of Mike’s voice against the side of his neck, accompanied by his warm breath.
“Well, technically not. We’ve been together seven years–”
Will resists the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he puts the knife down, gently holds Mike’s hands where they’re resting on his stomach, and leans his head back slightly. “Mike, c’mon, you know what I mean,” he murmurs.
Mike freezes, halting his incessant nuzzling, and Will can feel him tensing against his back. “Um, yeah, obviously,” he says, exhaling a nervous little laugh. But as Will tilts his head further back to meet Mike’s gaze, he catches the flicker of unease swirling behind those dark eyes.
The grip around his torso loosens a little, but the tension from the past few weeks bubbles up in Will’s chest, so he squeezes his eyes shut briefly, then spins around to meet Mike, who’s already trying to retreat. Gently but firmly, Will grasps at his forearms to keep him in place and offers him his most caring look.
“Mike…”
Feigning innocence, Mike smiles with rapid, exaggerated blinks. “Yes, sweetheart?”
Will snorts, tilting his head. He’s not falling for the ‘sweetheart’ act. “How are you feeling?” he begins softly, holding both of Mike’s hands in his and rubbing his fingers over the skin. “About seeing your family—with me, I mean? How’s this all feeling for you?”
Mike’s breath catches. His eyes widen slightly before darting away. “I… I don’t really wanna talk about this right now,” he says lightly, trying to escape.
Will can’t let it slide again. He's heard that line far, far too much over the past couple of weeks. Pulling him back to where they were, Will groans out, “ Mike , please. Stop avoiding the subject, you’ve been doing this all week.”
Mike bites his lip, his gaze skittering away again. Still, his hands tighten around Will’s.
“I care about you, y’know?” Will says, his voice quieter now. “I’ll listen.”
Mike exhales a faint laugh. “It’s fine, Will. Just drop it–” Once more, Will has to pull him back towards him, determined to hold him in place.
Will’s voice is firm now, though it still carries that ever-present thread of comfort. Always comfort. “Michael, I’m serious. I can tell when you’re super nervous about something, and you are… nervous -nervous. It’s basically blinding how nervous you are–”
“Okay, okay,” Mike sighs, and Will swears he hears his voice crack. “I don’t know how to… how to explain…”
“You don’t need to hold back, okay?” Will watches Mike roll his eyes, as he knows he’s hit the mark. It’s rare, but Will hates it when Mike does this—hiding his own emotions from Will when they may get too much to deal with, when they may impede Will's own happiness. “Just tell me how you’re feeling.”
Mike swallows and looks away. Will’s heart clenches at the sight of unshed tears in his boyfriend’s eyes, and he’s sure Mike’s trying to stifle them. “A- about what?”
Leaning in closer, Will softens his tone. He can feel the small, panicked breaths brushing against his face. Looking down at their joined hands, he begins fiddling with Mike’s fingers, letting his thumb trace soothing circles over the smooth skin. “About how your mom probably… maybe knows about us?”
“I already said–”
“And how she might wanna talk to you about it?”
That seems to strike a chord. They’ve already talked about this before, even though it was quite a long time ago, Mike first admitted he thought Karen might feel betrayed. Back then, Will thought they’d resolved it, at least unofficially. But there’s always something left to unpack, always another layer to confront.
Mike leans forward suddenly, and Will blinks in surprise. He really hadn’t thought his boyfriend would want to kiss right now. But as Mike’s lips meet his, Will is happy to reciprocate. It’s not the distracting, I-wanna-change-the-subject kiss he expects. Instead, he receives something filled with anxiety, a kiss that says I need you , please help me .
When they pull back, Will is speechless. Mike keeps his eyes closed, his forehead resting against Will’s.
A deep breath is shared between them, then Mike finally whispers, “I’m terrified.”
Will pauses, letting the weight of the admission sink in. He wonders if he could have said anything worse. “Terrified?” he echoes softly, searching Mike’s eyes, “Mike, this is your family. They love you, and your mom is clearly fine with us. She wouldn’t have invited me like that otherwise.”
A nod is all Will gets in response, but it’s not the reassurance he’d hoped for. A flicker of guilt flashes through him. Maybe he’s been too quick to dismiss Mike’s fears. After all, Will had felt the same terror once—fears that, in hindsight, had been even less grounded than Mike’s.
“Look,” Will continues with care, “I get it, you’re scared. Talking about this stuff… especially with someone who isn’t like us, it’s…” He trails off, making an awkward noise in place of the words he can’t find.
Nodding again, Mike fixes on Will’s face. It’s enough to make Will rub his hands over his arms—he can’t stand that look, not for another second. God, he wishes he had more to say, wishes he could fix this. If only he could take a magical breath and let everyone’s prejudices, everyone’s prerequisites, all the unspoken rules and wash them away, even if it was just for Mike and no one else.
Will has to admit, though, it’s not like he isn’t just as scared as Mike is. A little voice in the back of his head whispers that maybe this Christmas will be like those tense, uncomfortable ones from when his dad still lived with him. Comforting Mike feels a little like comforting himself, and it quietens that nagging voice.
“Maybe…” Will searches for the answer, wondering if Mike notices the slight falter in his posture. “...she won’t want to talk about it. Maybe she invited me because she knows, and this is her way of accepting you? I mean, I never really told Jonathan, he’s just always known. And I know he knows.”
Mike blinks, then groans. “She loves talking though,” he mutters, tightening his grip on Will’s hands and leaning his forehead against the shoulder in front of him. The movement pulls a slightly stifled laugh from Will.
“I know, I’ve met her,” Will teases, wrapping a hand around the back of Mike’s head, almost losing himself in the softness of his hair before he can say anything else. You can’t blame him—the heating has once again shut itself off, and Mike’s always been such a warm, steady presence. “But you do think so, right? That she’s saying… something with her invitation rather than something in real life?”
Mike sighs, and it sounds surprisingly begrudging. “Probably.”
Frowning, Will turns his head to murmur into the side of Mike’s head, “But that’s good though, right?”
Mike’s silent until Will places another soft kiss on his temple.
“I just like how things are now,” Mike whispers.
What, not talking about anything? —it’s what Will wants to say, but he holds his tongue. It’s not really his place to judge how the Wheelers handle things or how Mike’s parents have always left him to deal with emotions on his own most of the time. They haven’t done a terrible job, of course—Will loves the man they’ve brought up—but things could be better. And maybe this Christmas is an opportunity for a good change.
Mike carries on, “Oh God, I haven’t even thought about my dad either. What if my mom’s told him?”
Will can tell this is going to become one of those spirals. Mike makes a disgruntled noise, tightening his grip around Will’s shoulders, so he quickly steps in to interrupt Mike’s next train of thought.
“We’ll worry about that if it happens, Mike. There’s nothing to stress about right now,” he soothes, rubbing circles into Mike’s back. Slowly, Mike relaxes, his hold loosening as he exhales a calming sigh. That’s it , Will thinks, feeling himself smiling at the sound. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, sorry I got so…” Mike mumbles.
“Shh, it’s fine, I understand.” His heart tugs at the sound of Mike sniffling, and he briefly wonders if he should make a bigger deal. He decides against making a fuss, opting instead to simply stand there with Mike, letting the soft strains of Christmas music playing on the radio fill the space.
“You know you can always tell me when you’re feeling like this, though, okay?” Will murmurs, his voice gentle as he presses and circles his index finger on Mike’s chest, right over his heart. “Don’t keep it all inside.”
Mike finally lifts his head, and Will’s a little surprised to find his eyes completely dry, filling him with a sense of relief as lips brush against his cheek. “I know, I know,” Mike whispers, trailing kisses down to Will’s jaw. The warmth of it seeps into him, and Will feels his own worries ebbing away, glad that something he said has worked.
The pleasant noise Will’s emitting suddenly gets interrupted when the oven timer dings, making them both jump in each other’s arms. Mike lets out a snigger at Will’s exaggerated reaction. “Jesus, how many cookies did you make?”
Will, not answering, reluctantly slips out of Mike’s hold to grab his oven mitts and pulls the tray from the oven. As he fans the steam away from the fresh cookies, he spots a sneaky hand reaching for one. He bats it away again. “Woah, what did I say earlier?”
“Oh come on,” Mike croons, “you can’t spare one cookie from your… millions of cookies?” He wraps his hands around Will’s waist, leaning against him as Will stands over the counter. He feels hair tickling the back of his neck where Mike rests his head. “I thought you were trying to cheer me up, hm?”
Now, Will swears he has self-control, and at least some dignity, but the way Mike’s pressing kisses just below his ear right now might undo all of it. “Ohh, fine ,” he whines, “But don’t have more than one, okay?”
The words are barely out of his mouth when Mike gasps with delight, popping a whole cookie into his mouth in one swift motion. Will raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, as Mike stands there with his cheeks all stuffed like that.
“You’re an idiot,” Will says, without a hint of malice, using a tea towel to wipe away the crumbs at the corners of Mike’s mouth. His gaze drops to Mike’s collar, where more crumbs linger. “Messing up the sweater I bought you.”
Mike swallows most of it, a small smile spreading across his face. “Mm– this is good! You’re so good at this, why are you so good at this?”
He ignores the warm little thrill that the compliment still causes after all this time. “Oh, not teasing me about my cooking skills anymore then?”
Swallowing the rest, Mike pokes his finger into Will’s cheek, making his voice higher in a crude mock, “Well baking isn’t the same as cooking is it? So.”
Will scrunches his nose, humming as if deep in thought, before turning back to the counter where his handiwork sits. When he glances over his shoulder, he catches the smug, shit-eating grin still plastered over Mike’s face. Instantly, Will knows how he can make it go away, softening his voice. “Well, thank you, Mike. You’re very sweet.”
As predicted, Mike’s teasing face is shifted to one of mild surprise. He wanders over, and Will imagines Mike feels the same warm, sugary sensation pooling in his chest that he does right now. Resuming his frosting task—the one someone had interrupted earlier—Will focuses on his work while Mike hops up onto the counter, planting his hands behind him to support himself. Swinging his long, spidery legs, Mike studies Will’s face, his gaze intent.
“I love you,” Mike says after a minute.
Will pauses, thinking that while Mike might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him , he’s probably the worst thing to happen to these cookies. But because he’s Will and Mike is Mike —that is to say, weirdly captivating and somehow irresistible to Will’s brain, especially when he’s accidentally pulling that lovesick face that he denies every time Will tries to point it out—he smiles anyway.
“Mm, you’re gross,” Will drawls, leaning back from his work to give his boyfriend a kiss, sweet and a little sugary.
Silence follows, broken only by the cheerful strains of Christmas music, but Will swears he can feel a quiet anticipation hanging low in the air. He dares a glance back at Mike who seems to blink at him.
“What?” Will giggles.
“Got something to say to me?” comes a little voice.
Will rolls his eyes, not looking up from his own hands. “I love you too, Mike,” he sighs, feeling himself grinning uncontrollably. Because, ugly sweater and the crumbs stuck to the side of his cheek aside, his boyfriend really is the most pretty, endearing, lovable thing Will’s ever known.
He hears Mike give a satisfied sound. Will lifts his head to take him in, raking his eyes over Mike’s form before asking gently, “You sure you’re okay?”
For once, instead of the usual nod and high-pitched noise of agreement—definitely disingenuous—Will is met with a grin, paired with eyes that reflect the Christmas lights strung along the kitchen cupboards. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. I figure… I have you. Y’know?”
He can’t help smiling at that one, come on. “Always,” he replies, sharing Mike’s smile and the faint blush creeping along his cheeks. “I mean, I’m not gonna deny that it’s going to be a lot for us but… if you ever feel like it’s getting too much, just say the word.”
Mike tilts his head inquisitively, prompting Will to step away from what he’s doing. He moves to stand in front of his boyfriend, leaning into the space between Mike’s legs. He catches Mike’s gleeful smile when he places his hands on his thighs and glides them upward soothingly. “We can sneak off, go into the basement like we used to when we were teenagers, just starting out–”
“Yeah, I’d love that,” Mike says eagerly, nodding as his eyes flick to Will’s lower face.
Their lips meet again—it’s as natural as breathing. That’s the difference now compared to their teenage years: there’s no hesitation or second-guessing. But in many ways, not much else has changed; they still smile against each other’s mouths, reveling in the connection.
“Mm, but to be honest,” Will begins, enjoying the way Mike’s eyes widen slightly when he pulls away, “I don’t think we’ll need to. We’ll be having so much fun.”
Mike chews on his lip, sighing. “You think so?”
“Oh yeah,” Will nods, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “especially after I give you your present.” He goes back to work on the cookies, leaving Mike’s mouth hanging open a little. He knows exactly what effect this will have, leaving Mike all jittery and giddy, like a child waiting to open presents on Christmas morning.
“You– did you…” Mike begins to ask, wriggling excitedly in his seat. “You didn’t…? Did you make–” As Will listens to the absence of a question, he feigns innocence, raising his eyebrows and pretending like he has no idea what Mike’s talking about.
“Okay, okay, I– I won’t ask! I won’t…” Mike looks away for a moment, and it’s only a matter of time before— “Is it edible?”
Will shrugs casually. “Could be.”
“Is it… able to… go on the wall?”
He’s such an idiot. “Not saying anything, Mike.”
Wringing his hands in excitement, Mike lets out a little frustrated grunt, causing Will’s cheeks to ache from the grin spreading across his face. “Dammit, you’re impossible, uh… you gotta give me one clue—”
“ No , Mike, you said that last year, guessed it, and ruined the surprise. Then I had to get you something else–”
“You did not have to! I never asked you–”
Will interrupts him with a quick peck on the cheek. “Mm, but I love surprises.” His hand slowly cups Mike’s jaw, silencing him up with a look so full of love that he knows it’s a little unfair. “And your face is much more adorable– and funny when you have no clue what it is.”
Mike opens his mouth to retort, but the words seem to die in his throat, replaced by a cute, dopey, lopsided smile somehow laced with… smugness?
Mike hums, “You love me. Even when I’m an idiot.”
Now Will seriously tries to fight the way those words, paired with that look, really, really almost makes him melt and spill every little detail of his present to Mike. Because there’s no way he can reveal to his boyfriend that he could literally make Will do anything if he wanted, just as long as he gives him those eyes and those words and that smile.
Snorting to regain control, Will turns back to his work. “It’s called unconditional love, Mike. Ever heard of it?”