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It had been ten hours.
Ten hours since this never-ending campaign had started. Ten hours since Will had entered the Wheeler house, fifteen minutes before the others arrived as promised. Ten hours since a hand enclasped around his wrist, dragging with the promise of stolen kisses behind the basement staircase. Ten hours since ‘They’re going to be here any second now, Michael.’ and ‘Just five more minutes then, William.” Ten hours since the basement door flung open, simultaneously flinging the two apart as they blamed their disheveled appearance on a rather heated game of tag.
(“We were just – running around really fast. You know how it is.
Dustin and Lucas looked two seconds away from calling their bullshit.)
Ten hours of suppressing the urge to play footsie with his boyfriend (yes, his boyfriend) under the communal Party table and it all boils down to this.
This one moment.
The D-20 rolls around in Dustin’s palm tantalisingly. It was one of the rare campaigns where Mike wasn’t DM-ing, and Dustin had taken the opportunity to be Dungeon Master with something about a campaign he’d been working on for three months, just waiting to be cracked down and busted open (“What– I swear that’s a really popular saying guys.”). Will observes the pieces laid out on the board meticulously, trying to ignore the glare of Asmodeus’ wickedly slanted eyes mocking him, barely visible on the tiny figurine.
The room is agonisingly silent.
“Sir Will.” Dustin finally speaks up and stops rolling the D-20 around, enclosing it in a tight fist. He smirks as if he already knows how this is going to end. “Your action?”
Will chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully, assessing his options. He could protect himself. Flee and leave the Party behind at the cost of being safe. No risk, low gain. The thought itself is outrageous enough to make him snort out loud, but he catches himself at the last minute, recollecting the seriousness of the situation. He looks to his right, where Lucas sits with both his hands pressed to his lips, then to his left where Mike is similarly pulling at the skin of his bottom lip. Will takes a moment, observing the similar, bold look in their eyes. The same perseverance. The same fire.
The same thought.
Fireball that son of a bitch.
The fire kindles in Will’s eyes too, scalding and passionate. Part of it being the determination to avenge all the innocent villagers of Juju who had died at the hands of the evil Asmodeus. The other part being the irritation at having lost ten hours of his day where he could’ve been trading kisses with his boyfriend instead of being backed into a corner by Dustin’s dead-end campaign.
The blaze burns brighter.
With a deep breath, Will makes up his mind. There’s only one answer, really. He casts another glance at the other two party members, who, wordlessly, seem to be on the same page as Will.
Go big or go home.
“Fireball him.” Will says with finality.
Dustin’s face lights up with a smile, as if he has Will right where he wants him. He begins shaking the dice in his fist in a practiced manner, chuckling pompously, “Feeling bold, huh Byers? Well, let us all see how that–”
“Shut up and roll, Dustin.” Lucas groans exasperatedly.
“Right, sorry.”
For two whole moments it’s painfully silent, only the muffled sounds of the dice rolling around in Dustin’s fist being audible. Under the table, Mike’s ankle locks in with Will’s own, a gesture to soothe both their nervousness. Dustin smirks once again, then finally, finally, lets the dice fall onto the table. It rolls, four times, then five. Thump, thump, thump, it goes in a near straight line on the board, then achingly slow comes to a stop. The number reads–
“Eighteen!”
Relief pours, molten in Will’s chest as he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. The table almost immediately erupts in loud cheers of disbelief and victory before Dustin can even finish reading out the number, his jaw halfway on the floor in bafflement. Lucas shoots up at once, followed by Will, then Mike, all three of them banging their fists unabashedly on the wooden table.
“FUCK YES!”
“-BAM! Will the Wise’s fireball hits Asmodeus square in the chest, practically consuming his rotten flesh in a blaze of glory–”
Will turns to Lucas who’s still jumping in excitement, engulfing him in a tight hug that lasts a few seconds, patting him on the back for good measure. He then turns to Mike, lips stretched wide in a smile as he expects Mike to meet him halfway in a hug as well and–
Definitely does not expect him to meet him halfway in a kiss.
Will stumbles a little with the force of it. All at once, the heat he had been craving for ten whole hours comes rushing in his arms, flushing down to his neck, even his lips, enveloping him like a blanket, if said blanket was five foot eleven with a mop of curly hair. Mike’s too-warm hands cup his jaw, fingers splaying over his cheeks, lips kissing Will’s teeth with how wide his smile is. The world around him deafens at once, all his senses zeroing in on Mike, and only Mike. On how he smells, on how he tastes, on how his lips make that clacking sound every time they meet Will’s again, and again, and again.
Will recovers from the shock almost immediately and reciprocates the kiss smoothly, falling into their routine with ease. His right hand closes over Mike’s wrist, fingers brushing over where his pulse has gone maddeningly wild, while his left clutches the fabric of Mike’s shirt that rests above his hips. Mike presses into the kiss with hunger, like a man who had been left starving for the past ten hours. He breathes in through his nose roughly, tongue brushing over the flesh of Will’s lips which part at once, the gasp he lets out immediately swallowed by Mike’s lips. He exhales into Mike’s mouth, the only sounds in the room being the audible clicking of their lips. Everything else is filtered out, getting hazier the more Mike presses into him with the same renowned desire that engulfs him every time his lips meet Will’s. Will grips his wrist tighter, other hand moving up to grip the nape of his neck, tugging slightly at the overgrown curls while his teeth graze the sensitive skin of Mike’s bottom lip, when he comes to the awful, awful realisation that the silence in this room has possibly nothing to do with him getting lost in the kiss.
It really is awfully silent.
Too silent.
Oh my fucking god.
Will breaks the kiss with a gasp, pushing Mike back with a shove on his chest. Their lips disconnect with a click that sounds too loud in a room that had just been bustling with noise moments ago. Mike looks hurt and confused at the shove, but most of all dazed, as if he were still processing the kiss. His lips stay parted, red and swollen, eyes glassy and glazed over like he was still thinking about kissing Will. Will thinks proudly, for a moment, that he did that. I did that. He smiles internally, I made him look like that. For a horrible second, Mike looks like he’s about to lean back in, when he finally processes his surroundings, and finally realizes that they’re not alone.
They really just made out in front of their friends. In a room FULL of people. Well, not full of people, that’s crazy, there’s only four people in here. Including Will and Mike. And Lucas. And Dustin. Lucas and Dustin who have been awfully silent this entire ordeal. Oh god, Will can’t even look at them right now, oh my–
“Oh.” Mike croaks out, seemingly coming to the same realization as Will.
Think fast. ACT FAST.
Holy shit. Will tries to recover first, not even sparing a glance at Lucas and Dustin as he clears his throat, putting on the best dude voice he could muster whilst rolling his shoulders.
“Nice – That was – Bro. Dude. Good game, man.” He says, sniffling in a dude way as he wipes Mike’s spit off his lips with the back of his hand.
Nobody speaks still, not even Mike who is rather slowly processing his admittedly stupid actions. Will swallows, shooting Mike a wordless look for help from beneath his lashes, urging him to speak, do something. Anything that would get them out of this pit they’ve unintentionally dug themselves into. His heart hammers anxiously against his ribcage, going thud, thud, thud loudly. Lucas, who’s standing behind Will, hasn’t said a word since. Dustin too. However, Will can see him from his peripheral sight, jaw hung open, a playground for flies at this point.
Were they upset? They must be upset. They didn’t even know Mike liked boys, let alone liked Will, let alone was dating Will. They’re probably furious, worried that their relationship would ruin the Party’s dynamics. Sure, Lucas and Max are dating within the Party and sure, Mike and El once dated too (which ended horribly, should anyone know), but Mike and Will? That’s an entirely different concept, one that probably no one was prepared for. Wait, do they even know they’re dating? Do they think Mike just kissed Will like that for fun? Do they even–
Mike clears his throat loudly, dragging Will’s attention back from his thoughts. He snaps his eyes up to him, observing the look on his face which lies somewhere between a ‘I’m ready for a gate to the Upside Down to open and swallow me right now.’ and ‘I’m deeply sorry for what I’m about to do next.’
Oh no.
He’s about to do something really stupid.
Before Will could even think about stopping him, he nods furiously, “Yeah. Yeah, good game– bro.” He says, copying Will’s dude voice. He then moves fast, slightly pushing Will to the side with a hand on his stomach, and tries to get closer, as close as possible with a table in his way, to Lucas. Will watches, stone still, as Mike’s hand comes down on Lucas’s shoulder with a resounding pat, then ever so slowly drifts over to the nape of his neck. Mike takes a deep breath, and goes in.
He goes in.
Dustin’s jaw drops impossibly further, probably about to hit the ground any second as Mike’s lips bump into Lucas’ with a force that shakes the table, almost sending Lucas tumbling backwards. Lucas’ eyes go impossibly wide as Mike presses into the kiss, trying to mimic the same intensity with which he was kissing Will. It’s close mouthed, and rather rough, and absolutely the last thing Will thought Mike would do.
Oh my god. Will thinks. Oh my fucking god.
Will brings up a hand to his mouth, trying to reign in the laughter that immediately bubbles up to his throat. This was what Mike thought would salvage the situation? His cheeks hurt with the way he sucks them in, trying his best not to keel down on the floor and gasp with laughter till his brain starts to hurt. The kiss is miraculously still going, with almost fifteen seconds on the clock now, when Mike finally pulls away with a loud click, not even giving Lucas a moment to recover, who’s still reeling from the shock, before he pats him on the shoulder once again.
“Dude, good game.”
“Wh–”
Whatever Lucas was about to say doesn’t make it out of his mouth, because without even a second to spare, Mike spins to face Dustin, holding a hand out as if to dap him up. Dustin, mouth still comically open and eyes as wide eyes saucers, somehow brings his hand up to reciprocate the dap. Their hands connect with a perfect smack. Mike uses that as leverage to pull him in.
Will’s lips tremble with the amount of force it’s taking him to not laugh.
Dustin’s jaw snaps shut almost as soon as Mike’s lips hit his, letting out a muffled noise of shock. This time, he really does stumble backwards, pulling Mike with him a few steps. Stubbornly, Mike refuses to let go, making sure the kiss lasts at least 12 seconds before he disconnects it, taking several steps back to his original position.
“Dustin, my man.” Mike laughs (humourlessly). Will snorts. Disguises it as a cough. “Good– Great campaign, dude. Even better kiss, though.”
Literally nobody speaks. Will pretends to take great interest in the chipped ceiling paint of the Wheeler’s basement, lest he take a look at Dustin’s face and start laughing, blowing off their cover (the one Mike worked really hard on, clearly) instantly.
One second. Then three pass by.
Lucas recovers first. “Mike, what the FUCK.”
“YEAH, MIKE, WHAT THE F–”
“COMING MOM! Oh boy, she sounds really angry. Furious even. That’s not good for anyone–” Mike starts immediately, packing up everyone’s handbooks in a rush. He shoves it all in Dustin’s bag, pushing it against his chest and simultaneously pushing him and Lucas towards the staircase. Will follows close behind, lips bitten in an attempt to stifle his laughter, “JEEZ LOUISE, It’s already ten?! You know what? I really think you guys should get going. Like, really, really. Dustin, you live so far away, I’m, like, worried, dude. And Lucas you–” He pauses. Lucas lives next door. “Well you’re Lucas. Mrs. Sinclair must be so worried. WHAT’S THAT, MOM? Dude, she sounds angry–”
“Mike, what the hell, she’s not even talking! Don’t think we’re letting this–”
“DINNER’S READY? Oh jolly good, I’m famished, mother.” What the hell. Lucas and Dustin open their mouths to protest, struggling as Mike singlehandedly pushes them up the stairs, then to the door, then immediately out the door, shutting it in their faces.
“MIKE!” Dustin yells against the door, “We will be dealing with this later!”
Mike slams his head against the closed door. “GO HOME, DUSTIN.”
“FINE. BUT I WOULDN’T KISS AND DIP LIKE YOU DID, I’LL TELL YOU THAT.”
Will hears a few more ‘what the hell’s’ from Lucas, before they ultimately walk away from the door. It's only when he hears the footsteps receding, that he finally lets go of the laughter he’s been holding in for ten minutes. He practically bends in half, hands on his knees as he cackles loudly. Mike pulls his head away from the door, canting one eyebrow up with crossed arms.
“Oh, so this is funny to you.” He says, but the growing smile on his lips betrays his tone.
“Well, yeah– You kissed all our friends!”
“You made me kiss all our friends!”
Will gasps in mock offense, hand clutching his chest, “And who was it that kissed me in front of our friends, Michael?”
That shuts him up pretty quick. Though of course, Mike is never one to run out of words, even when the words don’t make sense. He opens his mouth and closes it, once, then twice, like a fish. “Well, y– you’re just so–” He groans, then straightens up quickly, taking a step closer, “Hey, don’t think you’re getting out of this. You know I had to do something when you look at me all like- that.”
“Like what?” Will plays coy, looking up at him through his lashes.
“Like, y’know – Like that! Please, you know exactly what you’re doing,” Mike scoffs, taking another step closer, successfully backing Will up against the wall.
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.” He does.
“You did that thing." Mike pauses, furrowing his brows. "That thing where you look all– cute. You know I can’t help it when you’re all cute.” He presses on, persistent as always trying to make his point.
Will blushes, a reflex to Mike’s habit of complimenting him. He crosses his arms as well, leaning his head against the wall and, as always, matches Mike’s stubbornness, “I’m always cute.”
He expects Mike to press more, carry on with their banter. What he doesn’t expect is– “That you are.” Mike sighs, resigning to his fate. That didn’t take long. “So can I kiss you now or do I have to kiss the mailman while I'm at it too?”
So that’s why. Will doesn’t blame him, really He’d like to kiss Mike as soon as possible anyways. So he caves with a chuckle, slowly looping his arms around Mike’s neck. “Please don't."
Mike closes the distance with a smile.