Archive of Our Own

Will woke up to the smell of syrup, although its sweetness was slightly dampened by the lingering scent of something burning.

He suspected Mike had placed an open syrup bottle in front of a fan to waft the maple aroma towards their bedroom. It was a trick he learned after many failed cooking ventures. Will always reminded him that they owned many candles that he could easily light, but Mike liked to be “innovative” with his solutions. 

Will stretched, humming when his back made a satisfying crack. The comforter was tucked around him tightly, squeezing him into a warm cocoon. It was obviously Mike’s doingーWill had always been a restless sleeper so the odds of him staying still all night were slim to none.

Will reluctantly pulled his arms free, using a heavy hand to rub his eyes. The curtains were still drawn, but the beaming sun brightened the room through the gaps. Will reached out as far he could without actually leaving the bed, cautiously using the very tips of his fingers to inch the curtain open a little wider.

He collapsed back onto the bed with an exaggerated flop. His face warmed under the glowing sun and he sleepily wondered if he could fall back asleep. The thought was little more than a hopeless wish, but he felt so content that he wanted to indulge in fantasy for a little longer. 

He pictured himself as a cat curled up in a sunny window without a care in the world. He could actually appreciate the rare feat of an enjoyable morning chill while tucked under his mountain of blankets. 

Will shut his eyes, admiring the golden tangerine gleam still peeking through his closed eyelids. The sun was relentless with its rays, practically begging Will to take out his paints and mix them into an identical hue. 

He smiled to himself. It was a Sunday so he could paint as much as he wanted to. 

The happy sunshine told Will that he miraculously managed to sleep past the sunrise. Even more unusual, Mike was awake and moving before him. 

Something clanged in the kitchen, followed by Mike’s quiet shushing. Will shifted under his heavy layer of blankets and loudly coughed to let Mike know he was awakeーeven if only barely.

Mike always seized a day to sleep in. He was even more insistent on the importance of lazy days when a sleepy Will was still in bed with him. 

Mike would wrap Will up in a blanket burrito and smother him with affection until Will was breathless with laughter and entirely out of eye rolls. Mike certainly didn’t slip away, and definitely not to cook.

Well, except for…

Will sighed. 

“Byers!” Mike called from the kitchen. 

Mike loudly barged into the bedroom, hurriedly pushing the door open as if he had been separated from Will for years instead of hours.

Mike collapsed on top of him, long limbs spread to take up as much room as possible. 

Will grunted in protest, but they both knew that it was only for dramatics. Will always stacked a ridiculous number of blankets on himself every night, but the weight of Mike practically flattening his whole body always made him feel safest.

Mike cheerfully popped up from the nearby pillow he’d let his head collapse on. Despite his obvious excitement and close proximity, his voice was still gentle when he spoke.

“Happy birthday!” 

Will gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

Mike beamed brighter than the sun still peeking through the curtains. Will closed his eyes to avoid the intensity; Mike had his own golden aura to blaze through Will.

Mike used the opportunity to press featherlight kisses to Will’s eyelids, ducking down to kiss the mole by his mouth before meeting his lips with quick kisses until Will laughed.

Mike’s hair was slightly askew when he drew back so Will ran his fingers through the dark strands in a weak attempt to tame the occasional stray curl. He let his hand drift down to cradle Mike’s cheek, thumb rubbing against the freckles scattered across his pale skin.

Mike turned his head and loudly smooched Will’s hand.

Will grinned. “Sap.”

“Hush,” Mike said. He wiggled impossibly closer to Will, pushing Will into the soft mattress while he tried to tangle his socked feet with Will’s. Mike successfully kicked the blankets up and shoved his ankles into the pile. “It’s your day today.”

Will said nothing. His teeth were gritted and it took him a moment to consciously unclench his jaw. 

Will cleared his throat. “Is that why I smell syrup?” 

“I could bring you breakfast in bed,” Mike offered.

Will shook his head, admittedly moving with some difficulty with Mike smushed against the side of his neck. Every time Mike exhaled through his nose, it gave Will a pleasant tickle. 

“You know I hate crumbs.”

Mike just shrugged halfheartedly. Will patted the back of his messy hair, since it was the only part of Mike still visible while they were wrapped up in each other.

Will pressed his lips together. “Sorry,” he added, more out of habit than anything else.

Mike leaned back to study Will’s face with slight disapproval. “Don’t apologize." 

His deep brown eyes were shining earnestly in the sunlight. The kind of warmth that Will loved to sink into. His messy hair had gotten even messier, sticking up in every direction untamed by the laws of gravity. 

Will forced out a huff. “Okay, mom.”

“We could stay in bed longer. I can always just reheat the food later.”

“Eh, it won’t be as fresh.”

Mike pressed his lips against Will’s collarbone, offering an absentminded kiss to the skin exposed by his loose sleep shirt. “It’s up to you. I could put the food in the fridge, or I could bring it in here, or I could carry you over to the food…”

“As if,” Will snorted.

“I could!” Mike insisted. He lifted up his arm, hair tufts swaying as he flexed his biceps. 

“Very impressive,” Will said dryly. 

“Hey!” Mike dropped his arm and said matter-a-factly, “I could carry you if I needed to.”

And then there it was: that sudden seriousness that crept up at the most mundane times. Mike would always get a little quieter in those moments, like his words’ intensity surprised him just as much as they surprised Will. 

The familiar quiet lingered in the safe space of their bedroom. 

Mike had carried him before, but it was hardly the sweet bridal carry that they were joking about now. No, it was when Will was half-collapsed, barely conscious through the dizzying carnage of soldiers being attacked by Willーby the demogorgons that Will looked through.

Will slowly relaxed his body, hoping Mike somehow missed the sudden stiffness that crept into his bones. It was a stupid notion when Mike was still seemingly trying to merge souls with him through the quilt.

“It wouldn’t be an issue if I weren’t the girl from the princess and the pea,” Will said.

“Is that the one where she can’t sleep on all the mattresses or something?”

“Yes, Mike. Obviously.”

Mike grinned, as if his dumb question was part of some genius master plan rather than a mere mild annoyance. Will rolled his eyes, gently pushing his palm against Mike’s face.

“Okay, go away, it’s too early forー”

Mike licked him and Will pulled his hand away with a small noise of disgust.

 “For my hilarity?” 

Will rubbed his forehead wearily, ignoring that his hand was still slightly damp. “It’s too early for your…shenanigans.” 

Mike just smiled wider. 

“Alright, I won't assemble your breakfast tray then.” His tone was open for disagreement, just in case Will had a sudden change of heart over something he had always unhappily stuck by. 

Mike: always the optimist. At least, when it came to Will.

“We don’t even have a breakfast tray.”

“Baking tray, whatever,” Mike said with a dismissive flick of his hand.

While it was amusing to picture Mike balancing two breakfasts on their old beat up baking tray, it was for the best to avoid it. Will was frustratingly picky about their sleeping arrangements and a single crumb could lead to a week of insomnia.

His body somehow always sensed one tiny thing off and punished him with an itchiness that wouldn’t go away until they completely laundered everything on the bed. Mike always insisted that he didn’t mind; that he could stop by the laundromat that very same day if it would make Will more comfortable, but Will needed to power through. He didn’t want to give into his own ridiculous whims just because he had trouble sleeping sometimes.

Will once lugged their massive vacuum out of the closet and balanced it precariously on the mattress all in an effort to avoid spending a few coins on an unnecessary washing load. It had failed of course, and Will carried their sheets into the laundromat with a sting of utter defeat.

It was a vicious cycle. Will didn’t have the energy to argue with himself over it again. Especially today.

He used all of his strength to push himself and Mike up into a sitting position, sending Mike toppling dangerously close to the edge of the bed. 

“My legs are tired,” Will declared.

Mike’s clumsy feet immediately hopped to the ground and he bent down without a word to offer his back.

“My hero,” Will said with an air of sarcasm. He struggled to wade through the overturned blankets and slumped heavily against Mike. His arms snaked their way around Mike’s shoulders and he nuzzled his face against Mike’s skin. 

Will took a deep breath and a wave of calm pulled him in. He pressed a quick kiss to the back of Mike’s neck. 

Mike adjusted his grip on Will, bouncing him once before standing up with purpose.

…

Will’s preferred kitchen chair was already pulled out, so Mike carefully lowered him into the seat with a smoothness that seemed almost practiced. Will bit his cheek and savored the sudden rush of affection making his head spin.

Mike kissed the top of Will’s tangled bedhead and took a seat across from him. He rested his folded arms on their too small table and watched Will contentedly. 

Will’s favorite mug was filled with hot coffee already. He remembered putting the mug in the sink the night before, too tired to even bother soaking it to rid it of any hot chocolate stains.

Now it was sparkling clean and a soothing warm steam drifted up towards Will’s face. The light color of the coffee told Will that Mike had splurged by using Will’s fancy caramel coffee creamer. 

Will liked black coffee; it was what he drank most mornings. But when he was willing to make the extra effortーor whenever Mike made him coffeeーhe loved the sweetness of caramel. 

Mike took a long sip of his earl gray tea, eyeing Will smugly from behind his cup. Will just ignored him, fondly shaking his head and letting the caramely goodness wake him properly. 

“Yum.” Will set his coffee back on the table with a quiet clink. He stared at the smiling suns greeting him on the ceramic. He knew that if he glanced up at Mike, he would see matching happy moons. 

“Thanks for washing my mug.”

Mike snorted. “As if I’d give you some subpar mug on your birthday.”

“My snoopy mug is just fine,” Will said with a huff. 

He tapped his foot against the floor fast enough to wobble the table. He knew Mike could feel it.

His birthday was complicated. 

It didn’t used to be. But with every passing year, it felt less and less genuine. 

His first birthday after going missing was weighed down by some unnamed expectation. The days leading up to it were slightly suffocating and everyone else seemed to agree. Will solved it like he did most of his problems: by ignoring it and hoping everyone else would follow his lead.

It was a strange torture, getting his wish of keeping his birthday casual yet later laying in bed watching the clock hit midnight and ending the day with the sinking realization that his birthday had passed by just like any other day.

The next year he kept to himself. He had buttercream cake with dinner. His friends mumbled their birthday wishes at school but until he opened his lunchbox in the cafeteria and found a carefully frosted cookie snuck inside by Lucas, he sort of assumed they forgot. 

Will had split the cookie into five pieces to share between them; just enough for everyone to try a bite. He reluctantly confessed that he had wondered if they forgot about his birthday entirely and tried to ignore the way Max's eyes widened with surprise and burnt a hole into the side of Will's head.

“I couldn’t forget you if I tried. We couldn't forget you if we tried,” Mike had said, before splitting his part of the cookie in half again and wrapping it in a napkin to share with El later.

He insisted Will couldn’t be forgotten but friends don’t lie, so Mike never said those words again.

Will never told anyone, but he had actually sensed something was wrong on his birthday in California. 

Vecna wiped his birthday from everyone’s memoryーWill included. 

Yet when he woke up in the morning and got ready to pick up Mike from the airport, a tugging sensation in his gut filled Will with anxiety. He dismissed it as nerves because of the painting curled up in his hands.

When he watched Mike and El rollerskate together with intertwined hands, the knife twisted just a little bit more than he anticipated. Unrequited feelings weren’t new to him, but the sudden reminder of them could explain the sharp sting.

The tense family dinner, with Argyle and Murray of all people joining them, left him a bit nauseous. He blamed the fact that he was upset about everything El went through. 

When he settled into his bed that night, the hot tears splashing onto his sheets were quickly brushed away without comment. Afterall, it was just one bad day.

California was the year everyone forgot. It was accompanied by the harrowing realization that plucking Will out of everyone’s memories really was that easy. 

Everyone got their memories back but the guilt of his birthday was a bad stain that no one could wash out.

Will sometimes felt guilty for their feelings of guilt. 

He knew it was a bit irrational, but they had no reason to feel terrible about what happened to him. They were victims in it too. Their minds were also ripped open without permission, just not quite as violently as Will’s had been.

His birthday became another wriggling vine that he had to leap over in a game of never ending upside down hopscotch. Each year their apologies, whether spoken or unspoken, just made it harder not to stumble.

For a while, Will was a boy without a birthday. He went without one of the defining celebrations that humanity made to note the passing of time; the growth of a life. 

He knew it once, but his mind became so corrupted that the information slipped away. Like it wasn’t relevant anymore, because he wasn’t relevant anymore. Will Byers had died, so his birthday was nothing to care for anymore. 

No one wanted to forgive themselves for that, but Will couldn’t forgive himself either.

So, birthdays were complicated. A landmine; a pinless grenade waiting to explode with either confetti or shrapnel. 

He knew his ruminating was self centered. He wasn't the only one to struggle with his birthday. His own sister understood that, but El went the opposite route.

She never celebrated her birthday in the lab. She was too busy being raised as a weapon to enjoy real defining moments of girlhood. 

Once she and Hopper found the records of her actual birthday, they made it into a massive event. She deserved nothing less. 

Hopper learned how to make an Eggo cakeーEl said it took weeks to perfect the recipe. It was a monstrosity of waffles and whipped cream and frosting but El loved it.

Every year it was paired with whatever ingredients were laid out for ice cream sundaes. The whole day was a test in their ability to consume as much sugar as possible, and then they’d fight away any sugar rushes with a bouncy castle, or a water park, or whatever other activity El had decided to explore that year. One year they’d even hired a magician. 

Will loved it. He loved it much more than his own birthday, in fact. He lived for El’s excitement and it was always a thrill to enjoy a party like an uninhibited kid again. Her enthusiasm was contagious. The day was nothing but fun; nothing but a joyful celebration of someone’s life. 

El missed out on so many birthdays as a kid so she made up for them tenfold now. When Will got his memory back, he just wanted to forget again. 

He never made a huge fuss when he was a kid anyway. His family had some cake and threw a small party with his friends. His mom always gave him a gift that was so perfect it was as if she read his mind or reached to his heart for its secrets. 

He felt happy; he felt known. He felt loved.

Will still felt that love now, but sometimes it was dimmed by the shadow Vecna snuck inside his mind. It clung onto him like disease in remission, dormant but lurking. 

Will startled slightly when Mike’s touch brought him out of his daze. 

Mike was awkwardly leaning across the table, stretching out his arm to meet Will’s. 

Mike carefully traced a heart on Will’s arm, over and over again. His other hand twitched where it hesitated inches away from his face. He could tell Mike was refraining from touching, even though he clearly longed to. 

Sometimes Will didn’t like his face being held. Specifically, when he was thinking about anything related to The Upside Down. And really, when wasn’t he thinking of The Upside Down?

A gentle caress could bring back bad memories if he was in the wrong headspace. A caring brush could become a threatening restraintーeerily similar even if he knew logically that it was entirely different. 

Will drew in a slow breath. Will trusted Mike and he trusted Mike’s touch.

He sank into Mike’s hand, knowing with absolute certainty that Mike would support the weight of his exhaustion. Mike smiled in relief as Will nuzzled against his palm. 

The next line his finger dragged across Will’s arm was slow enough to tingle. Another invisible looping heart joined the rest.

He cradled Will like he was something special and the pure love shining in Mike’s eyes made Will believe he was special too.

“I’m good,” Will said without prompting. He nudged Mike's hand, which abandoned its drawings and met his hold immediately. Will intertwined their fingers and squeezed. 

“What’s for breakfast?”

“French toast,” Mike said sheepishly. That must have been what Will smelled burning. “I made scrambled eggs too.”

“The classic birthday breakfast,” Will agreed while Mike reluctantly separated long enough to grab their plates.

Will grabbed the syrup and let it drip over his entire meal, covering the slightly blackened french coast and the lightly peppered eggs. Mike snatched the syrup out of Will’s hand and did the same. He met Will’s eyes with a sly grin, poking his tongue out between his teeth.

It took Will a moment to realize his plate was arranged into a strange smiley face. Two small circles of scrambled eggs made the eyes and his french toast was cut carefully into strips forming a smile.

Will glanced at Mike’s food, at the blackened pieces of toast and overly peppered eggs plopped on the plate unceremoniously. Mike stabbed his fork through a piece of burnt crust and ate it without complaint. 

Will just flashed Mike a halfhearted smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes. 

Mike would know Will’s real smile from his fake even if he was blindfolded. Mike could feel the lines of Will’s face with only the nail of his pinky finger and know when Will was putting on a facade. 

“You don’t have to do this every year.” Will’s fork upset one of the egg circles as he gathered a bite. “It’s not your fault that you forgot. It’s not anyone’s faultーonly Vecna’s. I even forgot.”

Mike said nothing.

“It doesn’t bother me,” Will insisted, even though he had obviously been thinking about it for the majority of the morning already.

He’d actually been thinking about it for much longer than that.

He foolishly left his sketchbook open on the coffee table last week. It revealed two pages full of exploding balloons and vine covered roller skates. He knew Mike saw them even if he never said anything about it.

Mike was ready to argue, but Will was faster. 

“We can just do a little birthday dinner like I used to, when we were kids.”

Mike shook his head with his eyes narrowed. “You can’t be serious.”

Will just blinked at him, slightly confused. 

Mike seemed unusually passionate this year, which was almost impressive considering the year before he had gone so far as to set an alarm on his watch so he could say happy birthday every hour. He denied its existence, but the muffled beeping every sixty minutes was a dead giveaway. 

It had been equally endearing and excessive. But this year he just seemed frustrated. 

“Will,” Mike began, “You always wanted a fuss.”

His voice left no room for disagreement, but Will was going to try anyway. 

“No I didn’t.” 

He stuffed another bite of syrupy eggs into his mouth. They felt rubbery; a poor distraction. 

“Uh…yes, you did.” Mike frowned at him, but the look lacked passion when he gently reached out to brush Will’s fingers with his own. His nails lightly scratched Will’s knuckles, leaving the faintest of marks before they faded almost immediately.

Will frowned. “My birthdays were good.” His mom made sure of it.

“They were,” Mike agreed. “But you wanted them to be perfect.”

Will rolled his eyes. “Who doesn’t? That doesn't mean it's realistic.”

Will took another bite of his food, further distorting the smiley face. It was still cute, even with half of its smile missing.

“Remember that year I made you a birthday DnD campaign?” Mike asked suddenly.

Will smiled, taking a moment to run his thumb across Mike’s knuckles. “That was fun.” 

“Exactly!” Mike burst with a sudden enthusiasm. “Exactly. That was such a good year. I could tell you were so excited.”

Will took another bite of rubbery eggs. They could definitely benefit from some reheating but Will deemed it unimportant for now.

“I loved that day,” Mike continued. “You couldn’t stop smiling. We made your birthday into a whole campaign and you loved it. You loved it.”

Mike watched him carefully. “Why don’t we do that again?”

Will shrugged. “That was before…you know, everything.”

That was the last birthday that Will had truly celebrated. 

“You aren’t understanding. What if we did it again now?”

Will sighed. Mike’s hand enveloped his, fully joined across the table as they both ate with their one free hand. “It’s just different, Mike.”

“I don’t want it to be.”

Will shrugged. He had nothing to say. He only had the energy to care about so many things; sometimes all he could muster up was passive acceptance.

“No,” Mike said. 

“No?”

“No!” Mike’s voice was firm, filled with the familiar stubbornness that always made Will’s heart race in anticipation. That voice meant that magic was going to happen. “Screw that. Today is the day that Will Byers was born and we are going to celebrate that.”

Mike pushed his plate aside entirely. It sat abandoned so he could use both hands to clasp Will’s. Mike’s hands were soft and warm, and Will never wanted him to let go.

“Last year when I wished you a happy birthday, the first time, you seemed surprised that I remembered. And I don’t blame you for that but, god…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Will repeated. Unease expanded from his chest, slimy vines chilling him all the way to his toes. “Whatever you do is enough. I mean it.”

“I know. I want to.” Mike was still studying him, slightly manic with desperation. “I want to,” he repeated.

“I’m not doing this because of your other birthdays. I’m doing this in spite of them. Everything during that time was…different. If things were normal, I would’ve been screaming happy birthday off the rooftops.” Mike’s eyes sparkled with mirth and he added, “I’ll go scream on our roof right now if you want me to. I won’t even put on a jacket, I’ll just rush outside andー”

“Please don’t.”

“Fine. But my point still stands.”

Will wasn’t quite sure how to react. He shuffled his feet, a bit overwhelmed. He pictured his excitement as a physical thing, a balloon steadily filling with helium before he slams a box shut around it. 

“It’ll be a perfect day,” Mike said. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Will breathed. He tried to tease, but his voice was weak.

Mike just stared at him with a seriousness that rivaled the looks they shared during the apocalypse. “Don’t you trust me?”

Will’s throat was a little dry. He tugged his hand free and picked up his sun mug with both hands. It was warm and the suns were still smiling. “Of course,” he rasped.

…

“I can feel you staring,” Will mumbled around his toothbrush.

Mike stood in the doorway, arms crossed and his eyebrows furrowed with concentration. Apparently watching Will brush his teeth was the most important moment in Mike’s life, one he couldn’t bear to look away from.

Will spat out the toothpaste and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Mike just stared at him. 

Will blinked. “What?”

Mike surged forward and suddenly they were kissing before Will could properly put away the toothpaste. Will just playfully smacked Mike’s arm, happily accepting the sudden closeness he was being smothered with. 

Mike peppered his face with kisses once, twice, tens more times before he cautiously pecked his lips again.

Mike lingered for a moment. He pulled back like it was painful to do so, even though he was only a breath away. He was a magnet and their separation stretched as if time had slowed. 

It was Mike’s silent way of asking permission; his way of giving Will time to pull away before it became something real. It never failed to give Will butterflies.

Will leaned closer and smiled against Mike’s lips. His nod was miniscule, but impossible not to feel when they were already embracing so tightly. 

Will let himself be swept up in the feeling of Mike. His steady hands ran through Will’s hair, but one of his pinkies still rested on his neck. It was a silent presence to let Will know that Mike was still there. Even when they drifted away from rationality, too lost in each other to focus, Mike offered an anchor so Will didn’t float too far.

Mike had offered that tether during their very first kiss and offered it again nearly every time since. 

Will never said anything about it, he didn’t need to. Mike knew. He always knew how to make Will comfortable.

Back then, back before they were the worldlessly entwined weave that they were now, Will’s clammy hand had absentmindedly gripped the back of his neck. He did it frequently; it was a weak attempt to suppress shivers whenever his stomach dropped in fear. He tried to rub away the tension like a bad cramp, hoping for a moment of temporary relief so he could think again.

Maybe Will was particularly upset or maybe Mike just couldn’t bear to stand by and watch silently anymore, but for whatever reason, Mike reached out. 

He had slowly dropped his hand on top of Will’s. Their fingers tangled together and he remained steady even as Will shook. Mike just silently lifted Will’s hand away from his neck, quickly replacing it with his own soothing touch. Mike’s hand was a glowing ember, hot but subdued. A light to focus on when the dark was chasing him.

Will was familiar with the cold. Will was familiar with burns. Mike’s touch fought off chills yet it was never a blazing fire.

It was a mug of Karen Wheeler’s hot chocolate passed between them on snow days. It was Mike giving up his own mittens when Will forgot his gloves at home because cold hands made it harder for Will to draw. It was Mike’s humming space heater that Will dragged from room to room whenever the autumn breeze became too much for them both. It was Will letting Mike rub his freezing feet against his warm calves, because he loved Mike more than he hated anything cold. It was the clamminess that formed between their hands when they clung to each other for reassurance on rough nights in the middle of August.

It was a gentle thumb rubbing away the stubborn goosebumps on his neck. It was discomfort being washed away with tenderness.

 It was safe.

Will didn’t get goosebumps in quite the same way anymore, but they were too muddled with his anxiety to ever go away completely. He had tried to explain it to Mike onceーhow sometimes it felt like Vecna even though he wasn’t actually feeling Vecna. 

Mike didn’t seem to fully understand but he didn't need to. He understood Will and that was enough. 

Will suspected that Mike found a similar comfort in the motion since he was always resting a hand at the base of Will’s head and rubbing his neck with his thumb whenever he found the chance. Mike always seemed most content when Will was within arm's reach.

Mike liked to help. He craved it. It was why Will sometimes let him do ridiculous things like carry him to the breakfast table or stand guard waiting eagerly for a spearmint kiss to provide Will with a comfort he didn’t actively need. 

Mike pulled back just enough to mumble against Will’s lips. “I got your easel all set up by the window.”

“Huh?” 

When Mike didn’t elaborate, Will stepped back and waited. Mike still had his eyes closed like he could live in the moment forever if he stood still.

Mike slowly opened his eyes, slightly dazed. He squinted at Will’s expectant stare and hummed. “Mhm.”

“How did you know I wanted to paint?”

Mike just leveled him with a stare. Dumb question.

“Thanks,” Will said. He gave Mike another quick kiss but he was already busy running back the memory of the beautiful sunlight in their bedroom.

Mike grabbed hold of Will’s hand before he could fully leave the bathroom. 

“Wait.” Mike’s eyes darted away, staring just past Will’s shoulder as he spoke. “Stay by your paint stuff, okay?”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Alright…”

“I want to clean up all the breakfast stuff,” Mike said quickly. “And I know you always try to help even when I tell you that you don’t have to andー”

“I get it,” Will interpreted. He grinned, giving Mike’s hand a squeeze before letting go. 

“Okay,” Mike breathed. He snapped out of whatever daze he was in and stood up straight, holding up his hands as if Will was about to run away from him. “Just…just stay there.”

Will rolled his eyes and nodded without further argument.

…

“Will, can you put down your paintbrush?” Mike’s voice called from the other room.

Will slowly lowered his brush, resting it near the yellow paint. “Why?”

“Can you just do it?”

Will wiped his hands on his pants and ignored the small yellow paint smudge onto the fabric. Hopefully it would come out in the wash but if it didn't then life would go on regardless. 

“Okay, I did!” Will called. 

He had barely finished getting the words out before a blanket of purple was thrown over his head. He sputtered, spitting out the hair that flew into his mouth.

“Mike!” Will protested. 

He roughly pulled the fabric off of his head, bunching it up into a makeshift ball. He turned towards the doorway, ready to send the fabric projectile flying right back into Mike’s face.

“Wait!” Mike yelled. He held up his gloved hands in surrender. 

Will lowered the fabric and stared at Mike’s outfit. 

The bottom half was relatively inconspicuous, just khakis and some thick wool socks that Will was pretty sure actually belonged to him, but the rest of his clothing was a bit baffling. Mike wore a seemingly homemade chainmail, thin and loosely draped over a gray shirt. A brown belt held it in place, matching the gloves covering his hands. He held a shield, one decorated with a large red heart.

It was a very familiar shield; the same shield from the painting that Mike insisted be hung over their bed. 

“Is thatー?”

Mike just grinned. He knelt down dramatically and ducked his head down as he offered his open palm out for Will to grab.

“Sir Mike the Mighty, at your service. Are you ready, Will the Wise?”

Will knew he looked stupid, standing by his half-finished painting with his mouth agape, but Mike just smiled at him.

“I know you don’t really like your birthday,” Mike began, slightly hesitant. When Will said nothing to dispute it, Mike continued. “So I thought, what if we didn’t celebrate your birthday?”

Will frowned. “That’s what I’ve been saying. We don’t have to do anything.”

“No, no, no.” Mike dropped his outstretched hand and rubbed his temples. “I’m explaining this wrong.” 

He stood up and motioned for the purple fabric still clutched in Will’s hand. Will gave it to him without hesitation and Mike lifted it high in the air so it could be admired properly. 

It was a cloakーa new one. Silky and shiny, almost iridescent when the light touched it.

“It’s DnD day!” Mike announced. He shook the cloak again, making the stars sewn randomly across the cloak sparkle. 

“Okay, so,” Mike stopped himself. “Listen,” he said quickly, even though Will had remained silent thus far. “I know you already have a costume but it’s old, which is fine, but does it even still fit? So I made this one, and it kind of matches with mine, see?”

Mike folded the fabric, revealing an inner layer of the cloak decorated with small red hearts.

Mike awkwardly held up his shield. “The heart, you know?”

Will nodded slowly. 

“I hope it fits. I mean, your mom helped me with the sewing and she said she knew your measurements but I might’ve cut some stuff too short. There’s a hat too, by the way, but I forgot to get it out from under the bed since you were sleeping in and I didn’t want to wake you up.”

“You made these?” Will asked. His hand moved through the air like it was floating, softly brushing the silky cloak with his fingertips. It was just as smooth as it looked. He watched each touch ripple with a kaleidoscope of colors.

Mike nodded quickly, his eyes wide and mouth pressed thin. 

“Happy birthday!” He thrust the cloak back out, letting Will take it back. “I promise I won’t say it a million times like I did last year. So, yeah. Happy birthday.”

Will held the cloak out in front of him, briefly flickering his eyes up to admire Mike’s paladin outfit. The heart on Mike’s shield was identical to the shrunken hearts hidden in Will’s cloak. He wondered if his hat had a few hidden hearts as well.

“It’s perfect,” he said quietly, and he meant it.

Mike’s smile was brighter than any sunlight Will could ever hope to paint. His eyes twinkled with an unsaid I told you it could be perfect, but somehow he managed to refrain from gloating.

Mike bounced on his heels. “If you think these are cool, just wait until you see Dustin’s new costume.”

“You made Dustin one?”

“Everyone has one!” Mike exclaimed. He let his shield drop onto the carpet, pulling Will to his chest. Will wiggled in his hold, trying to avoid crinkling his cloak. Mike reluctantly loosened his grip and punished Will’s squirming with an obnoxiously loud smooch on the top of his head, right where his hat would be. 

“You’ll see the new costumes today,” Mike promised.

Will’s head was spinning. 

“You wrote another birthday campaign,” he said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

Mike nodded. His smile was overflowing with pride, joy written all over his face mirroring Will's growing grin.

“No birthday party,” Mike assured him. “Just our party.”

Will let go of the cloak, properly throwing himself into Mike’s grip with enough force to send them both stumbling backwards. Mike recovered quickly, narrowly avoiding stepping on his shield before regaining his footing.

Mike’s grip was so tight that it hurt, but it was a good squeeze. He spun them around, letting Will lift his feet off of the ground just enough to feel like he was flying.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Mike said with a dopey smile as they slowed. 

Will’s feet were carefully placed back on the ground but they still held onto each other, perfectly balanced together. Two lovesick fools.

“I know,” Will said. He kissed Mike long enough to leave them both breathless. It was a bit embarrassing how quickly Will was flustered and pink, but Mike was in an even worse state after expending his energy lifting Will. “I wanted to.”

“Right,” Mike said with a small voice crack. Will kindly didn’t comment on it. 

“Well.” Mike stood up taller and gave Will a serious look, the dramatic flair creeping back into his voice. “Your party awaits!”

Will tilted his head in a silent request for another kiss. It was something that made Mike ecstatic, obvious from his happy hum vibrating against Will's poorly restrained smile.

His hand inevitably found its way to Will’s neck and its warmth was a gift on its own.