Work Text:
The nightmare hits Will like it always does—too fast, too cold. The world twists into shadows and vines, voices cracking and layered, something watching him from everywhere and nowhere at once. He can’t move. Can’t breathe. His chest burns like he’s drowning on dry land. He wakes with a strangled gasp, body jerking upright, sheets tangled around his legs.
“Will!” Joyce is there immediately, hands on his shoulders, grounding and warm. “Hey, hey—baby, you’re okay. You’re home.” Will shakes his head, breath coming in sharp, uneven pulls. The room still feels wrong. Too dark. Too quiet. His hands tremble in his lap. “I—I can’t—” His voice cracks, dissolving into a whimper. Joyce pulls him into her arms, rocking gently, murmuring soft reassurances.
She presses her lips to his hair, just like she’s done a thousand times before. But it doesn’t settle him. His heart keeps racing. The fear won’t loosen its grip. Tears slip down his cheeks as he whispers the only thing that feels true.
“Mike. I want Mike.” Joyce freezes for half a second—then nods, already standing. “Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll get him.” Mike shows up ten minutes later, shoes unlaced, hoodie pulled on crooked, hair sticking up like he ran his hands through it too many times. He looks exhausted—but the second he sees Will curled in on himself, something sharp and focused lights in his eyes. “Hey,” Mike says gently, stepping closer. “I’m here.” Will looks up at him like he’s the sun breaking through clouds. Mike sits on the bed, and Will immediately scoots toward him, fingers clutching the front of Mike’s hoodie like he’s afraid he might disappear.
Mike doesn’t hesitate—he wraps both arms around Will, pulling him in until Will’s face is pressed against his chest. Mike’s heart is steady. Loud. Real. Will exhales, shaky but relieved. “I’ve got you,” Mike whispers, one hand rubbing slow circles into Will’s back, the other threading through his curls. “You’re safe. I promise.” Will nods against him, breathing gradually syncing with Mike’s. He clings tighter, legs folding up as Mike shifts so Will can curl into his lap more comfortably. “I was stuck again,”
Will murmurs. “It felt so real.” Mike presses his cheek to the top of Will’s head. “I know. But you’re here now. And I’m not going anywhere.” Will tilts his head just enough to look at him, eyes red-rimmed and glossy. “You always come,” he says quietly. Mike swallows. “Always.” They lie back together under the covers, Mike propped slightly against the headboard, Will tucked under his chin like he belongs there. Mike pulls the blanket up around them, careful and gentle, like he’s protecting something fragile. Will’s fingers toy with the sleeve of Mike’s hoodie.
“Can you stay?” Will asks. “Even if I fall asleep again?” Mike smiles, soft and certain. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.” He starts talking—quietly, steadily—about school, about Dustin’s latest campaign idea, about absolutely nothing important. His voice becomes a rhythm, something safe to drift to.
Will listens, eyes slowly closing, body relaxing completely as the last of the fear fades away. “I like it when you hold me,” Will murmurs, half-asleep. Mike’s ears burn, but his arms tighten just a little. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Me too.” When Will finally falls asleep, his breathing slow and even,
Mike stays awake a while longer, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Guarding him. By the time morning light slips through the curtains, Will wakes warm and calm, still wrapped in Mike’s arms. No shadows. No voices. Just Mike.
-------
Joyce’s POV
Joyce has learned to recognize the sound of a nightmare.
It’s not always a scream. Sometimes it’s the way Will’s breathing turns sharp, panicked—like he’s running while standing still. Tonight, it’s that sound that pulls her from sleep, heart already pounding before her feet hit the floor she’s at his bedside in seconds.
“Will,” she whispers, sitting down, brushing damp curls off his forehead. “Baby, I’m here.” His eyes are open, but unfocused. His hands tremble as if the fear is still touching him. Joyce gathers him close, rocking gently, murmuring reassurances she’s said a thousand times before.
"You’re home." "You’re safe". "I’ve got you."
But tonight, it doesn’t work.
She feels it immediately—the way his body stays tense, the way his breathing won’t slow. When he speaks, his voice breaks her heart clean in two.
“Mike,” he whispers. “I want Mike. I need Mike please. Mom. ”
Joyce doesn’t feel jealousy. She doesn’t feel replaced.
She feels relief because she knows what Mike is to her son. Even if nobody says it out loud.
“Okay,” she says softly, pressing a kiss into Will’s hair. “I’ll get him.”
Watching Mike arrive—sleepy, worried, instantly alert—Joyce’s chest tightens. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t ask questions. He just goes straight to Will and holds him like it’s instinct. Like he's been doing it for years
Like it’s always been.
Joyce lingers in the doorway as Will curls into Mike’s chest, fear easing, breathing evening out. Mike whispers to him, steady and patient, like he’s done this a hundred times already. And maybe he has.
Joyce quietly turns off the light.
Some nights, love looks like a mother holding her child.
Tonight, it looks like trusting someone else to do it just as well
-------
Jonathan’s POV
Jonathan wakes up when the hallway light flicks on. And hurry steps speed walk down the hall
He doesn’t even have to ask what’s wrong.
He stands in his doorway, watching as Mike pads down the hall in socked feet, sweater half-zipped, hair a mess. Mike looks focused, like he’s stepping into something important.
Jonathan follows quietly from the doorway, he sees Will curled up small on the bed—and then sees the moment Mike sits down and Will melts into him.
The change is immediate. Will released all the tension.
Jonathan exhales.
He watches Mike pull Will close, murmuring soft reassurances, hands steady and sure. Will clutches Mike’s shirt Mike has his hands in Will’s hair as Will hugs him like it’s a lifeline face in his chest ,finally breathing and Mike doesn’t even flinch—just holds him tighter.
Jonathan leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, heart aching in that familiar, complicated way. He’s spent years protecting Will. Fighting for him. Standing between him and the world. He had to.
And now… someone else is helping carry that weight.
Mike talks quietly, about dumb stuff, about normal things. Jonathan sees Will’s shoulders stopshaking, his breathing slow, the fear finally letting go.
Will smiles in his sleep.
Jonathan feels something unclench in his chest.
He meets his moms eyes in the hallway. She looks tired—but peaceful.
“He’s okay, Mike will look after him.” Jonathan whispers.
“Yeah,” Joyce says softly. “He is.”
Jonathan watches a moment longer before heading back to his room, he sleeps easily.Because his brother isn’t alone