Chapter Text
It’s a pleasantly warm Saturday afternoon in September.
The day feels bright in that unremarkable, suburban way that makes everything feel calm and normal. The kind of normal that almost makes it easy to forget that just last night, the group came back from another crawl empty-handed. No sign of Vecna. No new information. No new leads. Everyone had tried to act like it didn’t bother them, but Mike could feel it anyway. The disappointment still hanging in the air, a tension that never quite went away. It was short-lived at first, but lingered more and more after each unsuccessful crawl.
Blissfully unaware of all of it, Karen Wheeler stands on the driveway with her purse tucked under her arm. Ticking through reminders with Nancy, like she always does when she has a thing and is leaving her in charge. Nancy nods along, patient but visibly tired. Mike stares at them, vaguely entertained, but most of all relieved it’s not him. He’s overheard them already covering all of this at least twice today. Nevertheless his mother repeats, “Now remember… emergency numbers are written down and stuck to the fridge. The neighbors across the street are home in case you need… well anything. Holly’s bedtime is non-negotiable. No parties. No funny business.” She gives Nancy a look that makes it clear she means it.
“Yes, mom, I know,” Nancy responds, her voice careful but strained. “We’ve been over this. I’ve got it. And it’s only one night anyway.”
Mike watches his sister closely. She looks like she’s holding herself together out of pure obligation, like she just wants this part over with so she can stop pretending everything’s fine. He recognizes the feeling immediately. He didn’t sleep much either.
He glances over at Jonathan leaning against the side of the house, arms crossed. He seems to be half listening, half watching Holly, who’s visibly bored and twirling around, clearly uninterested in the drawn-out goodbye her mother is orchestrating. Jonathan catches Nancy’s eye and gives her a small nod. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Wheeler,” he says. “We’re responsible adults now, we’ve got this.”
Responsible. Sure.
Ted walks out with their bags and wrestles them into the trunk with a grunt, before slamming it shut. “Let’s get going already,” he says, reaching for the driver’s side door. “We’ve got quite the drive ahead of us. I’m sure the kids will be fine.”
His gaze drifts, unfocused but pointed, landing on Mike and Will standing a little off to the side. “You’ll make sure to behave too, right boys?” He says in an almost menacing way.Mike doesn’t miss a beat. “Of course,” he says, his tone light and automatic, but with a hint of sass. “Same as always. Comics and games. No drugs. No cults. No illegal activities of any kind.” Mike flashes a wide innocent smile. Ted exhales through his nose and shakes his head, clearly regretting having asked at all.
Mike glances at Will and catches him forcing a small, awkward smile. His hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans like he doesn’t know what to do with them. Mike notices it immediately, the way Will goes a little stiff, a little too aware of himself.
Ted’s eyes linger on Will a second longer than necessary. Mike feels it like a tightening in his chest. Not surprise, never that, just the same old discomfort he’s learned to recognize. Will feels it too, Mike knows he does. He can see it in the way Will shifts his weight, the way his shoulders pull in slightly, like he’s bracing for something even though nothing’s actually happening. Mike’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t say anything.
“Okay!” Karen says finally, clapping her hands together. “I think that’s everything then.”
She hugs Nancy a little longer than necessary, then kisses Holly on the head as a final goodbye. She pauses in front of Mike, smoothing down his jacket out of habit. “Be good,” she murmurs.
“We will,” he says automatically.
Satisfied at last, she climbs into the passenger seat. Ted calls out one last, half-hearted “Behave yourselves!” before shutting the car door. The engine turns over. Karen waves at them through the window, and Ted lays on the horn as they pull away. They stand there watching, waving until the car disappears down the street.
For a moment, the house just sits there. Quiet. Waiting. Mike hadn’t realized how tightly he’d been wound until the sound of the car faded.
Holly is the first to break the silence. “Can we go back inside now?”
“Yeah,” Nancy says, already ushering her toward the door. “Go back to your coloring.”
Jonathan follows them in, murmuring something low to Nancy that Mike doesn’t catch.
Mike lingers on the driveway for a second longer, hands shoved into his pockets, staring down the empty street. Then he turns to Will.
“Okay,” he says, already shifting gears. “So, Lucas is with Max tonight. And Dustin said he’s busy. He was vague about it, but whatever.” He hesitates, just slightly. “So, uh… it’s just us.”
The word us hangs there longer than Mike expected.
He glances at Will, searching his face.
“If you want.” Mike adds, casual on the surface, careful underneath. “I mean, we could hang out later. Watch a movie together or something. Do something uh… normal, after last night, you know.”
Will’s answer comes quickly. “Yeah. I’d like that.” A soft smile accompanying it.
Something in Mike’s chest loosens.
“Cool,” he says, grinning, as a sense of relief washes over him. “We’ll order pizza and hang out in the basement.”
“Cool,” Will agrees.
Mike turns to the house, Will following closely behind, the door closing behind them with a soft click.
By the time evening settles in, it feels almost like a regular weekend. Except everything about it feels different.
The house that’s felt so busy, so loud for months, suddenly feels very quiet. A welcome kind of calm.
Ever since the Byers family moved into the Wheeler house, the quiet has only come in waves. Brief, borrowed moments of it, between too many people sharing too little space.
And still, Mike kind of liked it. Despite the chaos and the loudness of it at times. He enjoyed having Will around pretty much all the time. Closer again in a way that felt less complicated, like something they didn’t have to keep reaching for. Sure, it was awkward at times. Strange. Especially those first couple of months. But also familiar in a way that settled him, like muscle memory.
He knows his dad hates it though. Mike can feel that much even when he doesn’t say anything. And when he does speak, it’s always just enough. A muttered comment under his breath, a look held too long, a reminder slipped in sideways. Everyone brushes it off as just Mr. Wheeler being Mr. Wheeler, but Mike knows better. He’s never quite liked how close they are, not really. And he’s never let them forget it. So with both Mrs. Byers staying the night at Hopper’s cabin, and his own parents gone, this particular weekend feels like a long awaited exhale.
The doorbell rings just as Nancy sinks deeper into the couch, Holly curled up beside her with a book, Jonathan in the arm chair nearby.
“Pizza’s here!” Mike yells out, already making his way towards the front door from the kitchen.
He swings it open, takes the pizzas and slams some cash into the delivery guy’s hand. “Thanks! Keep the change,” he says with a grin, before slamming the door shut.
Moments later everyone’s gathered in the kitchen. Paper plates are passed around and sodas are pulled from the fridge, and it quickly becomes clear no one’s interested in pretending this is a family dinner type of night. Nancy looks exhausted. Jonathan distracted. Holly definitely couldn’t care less about sitting at the dinner table.
So no one argues when Mike jerks his head toward the basement. “We’ll take ours down there,” he says.
“Fine by me” Nancy replies immediately, already turning back to the living room, pizza box in hands.
Mike carries the sodas under one arm and holds the basement door open with the other, letting Will, who’s carrying their pizza and plates, go first. He watches Will walk down the steps, just for a second longer than necessary, before following close behind.
The basement smells faintly like dust and old cardboard, familiar and grounding. And underneath it… Will.
It’s subtle but distinct. Clean but warm. Soft around the edges. A smell Mike has learned without ever meaning to, from years of sharing blankets and jackets, and sitting too close.
It makes sense. This is where Will and Jonathan have been sleeping since they moved in, after all. Though Jonathan barely counts, he sneaks off to Nancy’s room most nights anyway according to Will. It’s why he usually gets the couch.
Their D&D table has been pushed aside, a mattress laid out on the floor where it used to be. Permanent, but not really. Mike suddenly finds himself thinking too much about it—the space, Will, their new routines, the ones he’s grown used to over the months.
“Uh… Mike?”
The sound of his name pulls him back into himself. He swallows, forcing his attention back to the present as Will sets the pizza down on the coffee table.
“You good?” Will asks.
“Yeah. No, I’m fine.” Mike shakes his head.
He hands one of the Cokes to Will without thinking, their fingers brushing briefly. It’s nothing. Still, he feels it, the tiniest spark of awareness that lingers a little longer than it should.
“Smells good,” Will says. “I’m starving.”
Funny, Mike hadn’t really noticed the pizza smell until now.
Will drops onto the couch and flips open the lid.
“Oh,” he says, squinting. “Is that… pineapple?!”
Mike laughs, a little sheepish, as he lowers himself onto the spot next to him. “Yeah. I tried it on the uh…” he doesn’t know what to call it really, “during our uh… the unplanned road trip, remember?”
The desert. The van. The heat. Burying a goddamn body. Totally normal spring break stuff.
“Oh, uh… right, the road trip,” he says, silently processing for a moment.
“Wait, did you really?” he asks, eyes wide, looking slightly amused.
Mike laughs. “Yeah, I was skeptical too. I mean, the idea of fruit on pizza. That’s insane. What the hell, right? But El and Argyle, they basically forced me to try it,” Mike says. “And I have to admit it’s… actually not terrible. I promise!”
Will hesitates. Brows furrowing.
“Hey listen, Argyle said to try before you deny. I concur,” Mike smirks.
Will shrugs, still visibly unsure. “I mean… fine. Whatever, I suppose.”
Mike watches as Will grabs a slice and takes a careful bite, perhaps a little more closely than he means to.
Will chews. Pauses. Frowns. “Okay,” he admits, pointing at the slice. “That’s… annoying. Why is it actually good?”
“That’s what I’m saying! It’s so annoying,” Mike says as he bites his own slice.
“Don’t tell anyone I converted you,” he adds with a grin.
Will huffs a laugh, shaking his head.
They eat on the couch, knees angled toward each other, the TV on but mostly ignored. It’s easy. Familiar. Comfortable. They talk about nothing important, Dustin being annoying, Lucas ditching them, some stupid movie Mike half remembers from when they were kids, comics they recently read. No mentions of crawls or Vecna. Back to just normal teenage stuff for once. He realizes how much he needed this, how much they probably both did.
Stupid jokes are made, they both laugh like they haven’t laughed in a long time together, and for a second it almost feels like before. Before everything got heavier.
That’s when it hits him. This is it. This is all he wanted. Just them. No monsters. No expectations. No one else there. Just Will and Mike. Easy. Like when they were younger. Somehow the thought makes his chest ache in a way he doesn’t quite understand. It’s sharp and sudden, like something pressing in from the inside. It’s somehow too much to hold all at once.
Mike shifts in his seat, restless, his leg bouncing slightly.
“I’m uh… gonna grab another drink,” Mike says suddenly, standing up a little too quickly. “You want another soda?” he rushes out.
“Sure,” Will says. He seems a little shaken by the sudden shift.
I’m sorry Will.
Mike walks up the basement stairs feeling like an total idiot. Why did he suddenly feel like he had to get out of there? Why didn’t he stay? Things were good. It was everything he wanted. Everything he needed. Why did he—?
Nancy and Jonathan’s voices echo from the living room, some laughter mixed in, pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts.
He makes his way to the kitchen, when the garage fridge flashes through his mind. He knows there are beers in there. He shouldn’t. But who’s there to stop him? Nancy and Jonathan both seemed pretty checked out, he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t notice. No parents around. No one to catch him doing something he’s not allowed to. Before his brain has time to catch up, he turns around, a small rush of adrenaline buzzing through him as he heads for the garage.
The fridge hums softly in the quiet. Mike opens it and stares at the row of cans inside, Coke, Sprite, and… pushed toward the back, two six-packs of beer.
He hesitates. It’s a stupid idea. He knows that. They’re not trying to get wasted. He’s not trying to do anything.
He’s just… curious.
He thinks back to that one night a couple of months ago. Steve and Robin letting the party try some while hanging out at The Squawk. Beers being passed around like it wasn’t a big deal, like this was just another thing you did when you’re in high school. It had felt weirdly appropriate. Experimental. Kind of exciting. Normal. Almost grounding.
And he remembers how, for a little while, it had made him feel a little more relaxed, a little less aware of everything. It had made his head go quiet. Not empty, just quieter. And that’s all he wants right now.
Mike reaches into the fridge, then pulls his hand back. He stares at the shelves for a second, like they might argue with him. They don’t. He grabs a beer and a soda, knowing Will probably won’t want to join him in this stupid, spur of the moment thing. Then, more hesitation. He puts the soda back in the fridge and quickly grabs another beer anyway, tucking them both under his arm as he starts heading back before he can overthink it.
Once he’s made it back down to the basement, Will looks up at the can Mike is holding out to him, his eyebrows lifting slightly.
“Uh…” Will says awkwardly. “I said soda, right?”
Mike shrugs, forcing a grin that feels a little too casual. “Yeah. I know. I just thought… we could try something different.”
There’s a pause. Not uncomfortable. Just uncertain.
Mike feels it immediately, the urge to backtrack. To laugh it off, say never mind, say he wasn’t thinking. To put the beers back in the fridge and pretend this was a joke that didn’t land. What was he thinking, doing this with Will? He braces for the no.
Then Will nods.
“Okay,” he says with a nervous smile.
That was… unexpected.
Warmth and relief settle low in Mike’s stomach. Part nerves, part thrill, and part rebellion he can’t quite name.
Are they actually about to do this?
Mike sets the beers down on the coffee table, a little too carefully. The cans make a soft, dull sound against the wood. For a second, neither of them moves. Then he settles down next to Will on the couch again. The TV humming in the background. Some commercial he isn’t paying attention to.
He clears his throat. “So. Uh. We don’t have to, obviously.”
He corrects himself “Or I mean… You don’t have to. I think I… No, I’m definitely going to drink one.”
“What I mean is, we don’t have to get weird about it,” he continues. “It’s just… us. Trying something...”
He realizes how much he’s rambling. Stupid. He wishes he’d said less.
Will shakes his head. “No, no. It’s fine. I want to.”
He pauses. “I just… haven’t really done this before, other than those few sips that one time, you know.”
“Me neither,” Mike says quickly. “Although, I suppose I did have more than just a few sips,” he adds.
Will laughs “Oh, I remember...”
“Wait, what does that mean?!” Mike asks, suddenly too aware of himself.
Will just smirks, eyes sparkling. “Nothing…”
Mike huffs, his cheeks warming, as he hooks a finger under the tab of his can. It pops open with a sharp click that feels louder than it should. A little beer sprays out and he winces, then laughs under his breath. Will laughs too, and his nerves ease a little at the sound of it.
“Okay,” Mike says. “That could’ve been smoother.”
Will opens his own can carefully, clearly expecting a repeat of Mike’s chaos. Just a tiny spritz escapes. “Huh,” he says, lifting the can, a small smirk across his face.
They sit there for another second, cans in hand, palms slightly sweaty, like they could get caught any moment.
“Do we…?” Will gestures vaguely.
“Yeah,” Mike says. “Probably…”
They hesitate, then clink their cans together softly. It feels like a pact. Quiet. Unspoken.
Mike takes a sip first. It’s bitter. Vaguely familiar. He swallows, and tries not to make a face.
Will watches him closely, then takes his own sip. He immediately winces, covering his mouth. “Oh. Wow. That’s still—“
“Bad?” Mike offers.
“Not… good,” Will says, then laughs at himself. “Why do people like this?”
Mike grins. “Right? It’s kind of awful.”
He doesn’t entirely mean it. The bitterness doesn’t really bother him. But then again, he’s also started drinking coffee, and Will doesn’t.
Will lowers the can, frowning at it for a second, then lifts it again, taking a bigger sip. He shudders, still visibly put off by the taste.
Mike watches him over the rim of his own can, a little thrown off by how deliberate Will is being. He quickly takes another sip too, matching Will without really thinking about it. This sip goes down easier. Still bitter, but less jarring. He might actually kind of like the taste.
Will glances at him, raising an eyebrow. “Think I can get to taking a sip without grimacing eventually?”
Mike chuckles. “Who knows. Maybe it’ll taste less weird after a while.”
It’s not long before a faint warmth spreads through Mike’s chest, subtle and slow, like his body’s catching up. His shoulders ease without him meaning to. His head starts feeling a little quieter, floaty. Pleasant. And slowly, being down there, alone with Will in the quiet basement, is starting to feel comfortable again—normal, even if nothing about this is.
They both take small, careful sips after that. Not rushing. Just… sitting with it.
Mike stares at the TV, noticing the light flicker across Will’s face in his peripheral vision. Everything feels slightly slower, softer around the edges. Quieter, sip by sip. It’s like he hadn’t fully realized how loud his head had felt until now.
Will pulls his leg up onto the couch swiftly, tucking his ankle under his other leg. Their knees brushing lightly, a small moment neither of them acknowledges. The quiet that follows stretches for a moment, the kind that makes even the low noise of the TV feel loud. Mike swallows, tries to shake the moment off, but the brush of knees lingers in his chest anyway, tight and strange.
“So… uh,” Mike says finally, trying to sound as casual as possible, “should we put on a movie? Or, I don’t know, play a game or something?”
Will shrugs, not meeting his eyes. “Movie’s fine. Less… thinking.”
He’s not wrong. It sounds easier. No eye contact either. Mike isn’t sure if he can look Will in the eyes right now without it feeling… at least a little weird somehow.
They both shift slightly, unsure, then Will quickly gets up and awkwardly shuffles to the corner of the basement where the collection of VHS tapes is kept.
Mike stands up moments later, stretching, lingering because he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. Picking out a movie gives him something to do with his body, a way to shake off the sudden tension before it has a chance to settle into something he might have to think about. He takes a few gulps of his beer before walking over to Will, who’s already rummaging through the box of movies. He notices Will stiffen slightly as he comes up behind him, but pretends not to notice. Tells himself it’s nothing.
They end up picking something they’ve definitely seen a bunch of times before, but it doesn’t matter. Rewatching movies is something they’ve always done. It’s routine. Familiar. Safe.
Mike slides the tape into the VCR as Will reaches over to instinctively turn off one of the lamps. “Or… do you… do you want it on?” he asks quietly, stumbling over the words. Mike glances back at him, the space suddenly feeling smaller, more intimate with the light off. Quiet. Secret, almost.
“No, it’s fine. Leave it,” he says, forcing himself to sound casual, though his heart is suddenly beating a little faster than it probably should.
Will grabs a blanket from the armchair, and as they both settle back onto the couch, he seems to hesitate for half a second, before spreading it across both of them.
“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet enough for it to almost come out like a whisper.
“Yeah,” Mike says, perhaps a little too fast.
He reaches for the remote at the same time Will does. Their fingers brush, barely anything, but it sends a quick jolt up his arm anyway.
Oh.
“Sorry,” they quickly blurt out at the same time. Will laughs, breathy and a little red with embarrassment, pulling his hand back first.
Despite the slight buzz from the beer, Mike notices everything.
How their shoulders don’t quite touch. How there’s a careful inch of space between them, deliberate and fragile. How he can feel warmth creeping up his neck and ears. Unsure if it’s from the beer or… something else.
Maybe about half way through the movie, Will shifts again, tugging at the blanket. His elbow bumps Mike’s arm, and this time neither of them apologizes. As Mike finishes the last sip of his beer, he lets himself lean back and relax a little. Like the empty can gave him permission. Will follows without looking at him. Somehow, they’re sitting a little closer now.
It almost feels wrong. The closeness, the quiet, the awareness of almost touching.
It also feels… easy.
Making it feel dangerous, in a way he can’t quite name.
He tells himself maybe it’s just the beer. The shared blanket. The fact that the house is finally quiet and no one’s watching. Whatever it might be, he doesn’t move away.
The movie keeps playing, but he hasn’t been paying full attention to it for a bit. It’s been… hard to concentrate.
The metal of the empty can feels cold against his fingers. He glances down at it, then back at the screen, then at Will for a quick second, as his thoughts trail off.
Another beer… maybe it’ll help. Maybe it’ll at least just… stop his mind from spiraling.
“Hey,” he says quietly, like he doesn’t want to disturb the moment. “I’m gonna grab another one. You want…?”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to. Will hesitates. He can feel it. The pause, the calculation. He feels stupid for asking.
Then Will nods and whispers. “Yeah. Okay.”
Oh.
“You sure?” Mike asks, almost immediately regretting the question.
Will huffs a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I’m sure, Mike.”
“Cool,” Mike replies, trying to sound casual.
He gets up slowly, careful not to jostle the couch too much. The heat from sitting so close fades instantly, leaving him oddly aware of the space he just vacated.
He shifts his weight and starts moving, sure of what he’s doing this time. A quick run upstairs. Two more beers. Hoping he won’t run into Nancy, or Jonathan.
As he emerges from the basement, the house feels awfully quiet. He peeks into the living room. Empty. TV off. No sign of anyone. Somehow the space being this dark and quiet makes him feel more on edge for a second.
He slips through the house, careful and deliberate, and snatches two more beers from the garage fridge.
Heat rises from his neck, and there’s a flutter in his chest he can’t quite place. Sneaking around the house like this… The beers… It feels dangerous and exciting in a way that makes him grin. Just him and Will. Just for a little while. No one watching. No one interrupting.
He presses one of the cold cans to his neck to ground himself for a moment, before heading back. A deep breath in, followed by a long exhale. Beers in hand, he starts retracing his steps, careful not to make too much noise, just in case. Careful to make it back swiftly to the private bubble downstairs.
When he’s back at the couch, Will lifts the blanket automatically so Mike can settle back in. Their knees brush again just briefly, easier now. Perhaps even less accidental. Or maybe the beer’s just making them a little clumsy, nothing more.
Once he’s settled, he hands Will the other beer. They both open their cans with a lot less hesitation and clumsiness this time. Locking eyes and sharing a tiny smirk for a moment, as they once again clink their cans together, before taking a sip.
“Hey… guess what?” Mike says, a grin tugging at his lips.
“What?” Will asks, glancing up at him.
“You didn’t make a face this time,” he teases.
Will lets out a soft laugh. “Huh… guess I’m improving.”
“Who would’ve thought.” Mike adds.
Mike keeps his eyes on Will for a second, noting the way he’s sitting back on the couch, all casual and a little grin tugging at his lips. His eyes land on the remote, sitting on Will’s armrest. He realizes Will must have paused the movie while he was away, something he didn’t think to do.
Without thinking, he reaches for it, leaning fully over Will instead of just asking him for it. Will freezes. A soft gasp catches in his throat, but he doesn’t say anything. It makes Mike pause too. Suddenly aware of how warm the couch feels, how warm Will’s body feels against his. For a moment, neither of them moves, frozen in the unexpected closeness.
Mike blinks, and it’s like his brain kicks back in all at once.
Oh crap, this is… weird. Too close. Too intimate. Too sudden.
He clears his throat. “Uh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I mean—“
Nothing is coming out right.
Great, you just made it even weirder.
Will doesn’t say anything, just lets out a little breath, like he’s amused but also nervous.
Mike leans in a little further, finally grabbing the remote, then practically jolts back into his seat, trying to act casual about the whole thing.
He swallows, heart rate elevated. He glances at Will and notices his cheeks look slightly flushed. His stomach twists at the sight, sudden and sharp. He forces his gaze elsewhere.
Neither of them seems to know what to say. What settles in instead is the quiet awareness that Will looks just as flustered as he feels himself. Not upset, not grossed out. Flustered. What does that mean?
Instead of having to come up with something to say, Mike decides to just hit play on the remote. The sound of the movie coming back on feels louder than he remembers, but at least it drowns out the sound of his heart beating out of his chest.
He keeps his eyes peeled on the screen. Tries to ground himself with more beer. Another big gulp. His hands twisting around the can.
He’d kill to know what is going through Will’s mind right now. He wants to get a read on him, but he can’t bring himself to look again. Too scared it’ll feel obvious. So he keeps his eyes exclusively on the screen, for now.
The movie drones on, dialogue and music blending into the quiet hum of the basement. Mike forces himself to follow along, sort of at first, then fully after a while. Letting the flicker of the screen and familiar dialogue anchor him.
The sips of beer become slower over time, optional almost, no longer rushed.
And suddenly, he swears he feels Will looking at him instead of the TV. Then, a shift. Will repositioning himself to get more comfortable. Sliding down a little. Letting his leg fall gently against Mike’s. Easy. Comfortable. Electric?