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Will’s scream didn’t sound human at first, strangled and animalistic, as it crawled from somewhere too deep inside of him to seem voluntary. Cleric William sat up instantly from his position in bed next to the version of him he’d known for a mere few weeks. He would have preferred the company of his Michael most nights, but the fighting between Will and Mike the last few days had caused a shift in sleeping arrangements in the cabin, for everyone’s sake. And all because of a stupid sketch, too.
“Will?”
The boy beside him was already half-upright, but not fully there.
Will’s eyes were open wide and glassy, staring at something that wasn’t there, even in the reflection of his green iris. His hands tangled into the sheets tucked on either side of him like he was fighting to claw his way out of them. His chest heaved too fast, too sharp, breath cutting in and out like Will had swallowed broken glass in his sleep.
“No,” Will choked, voice shredded. “No no no no-”
William reached for him gently. “You are safe, Will, there’s no need to be frightened.”
Will’s hands lashed out, more on instinct than violence, knocking the cleric’s wrist away with a frantic clumsiness. His gasping became more desperate, like the oxygen in the room was being stolen away between the floorboards and the cracks in the walls before his lungs could catch relief. Tears were streaming from his eyes as he made efforts to grab hold of his bearings and failed, evil taunting and echoes of screams plaguing his barely conscious mind.
Just down the hall, something crashed moments before the door into the Wills’ bedroom opened. Paladin Michael, armor half-fastened and his sword already drawn, stormed into the room, the announcement all too thunderous in the night.
“Who dares-”
His introductory threat was cut short when he laid his eyes on both of the versions of his husband. The one who Michael had known in his own universe was halfway out of the bed, staring at the other version, whose body was folding in on itself. Will’s shoulders curled over his hunched form, his head shaking back and forth at the reality that he wasn’t sure of, as his own fingers dug bruises into his arms. His mouth was pulling in whatever air he could, still not enough for him to gather his words.
Michael moved fast; too fast.
Dropping to one knee at the side of the bed, he braced himself against the edge of the mattress.
“You are under my protection,” Michael declared, scanning the room as if the threat existed in a darkened corner. “Whatever hunts you will have me to answer to. Show yourself, coward!”
“There’s nothing there,” William said quickly, his own voice tight at the sight of his mirrored self in such a fright.
Wil’s eyes darted wildly between the two, begging for answers before him, but he couldn’t really see them. He was too focused on every shadow, on all the memories, on everything he felt and could not begin to find the words to say.
“Stop,” he panted, begging for something he wasn't sure of. “Please stop, don’t-”
Will brought his hands up to the paladin’s chestplate, a faint clanging sounding out under his timid shove. The knight stilled, confusion overtaking his features.
“I will not allow harm to come to you,” he insisted, firm and steady. “Name your enemy and I shall take care of him.”
Will shook his head violently at the other.
“No, no, no- it’s here. He’s here, it’s-” His breath fractured again, the tightness in his chest swallowing his sentences backwards. He tried to stand, to rush from the space into a light that did not exist, but his trembling legs buckled almost immediately.
William caught him, but the boy in his arm thrashed in return to his gesture, a trapped panic overwhelming any sense of logic Will felt he still had. His nails scraped over thick pajama fabric and skin. If he had been in his right mind, the guilt would have been immense, but Will wasn’t there enough to process that. He wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, but trying too hard to get away from something no one else could see.
As Will fell back onto the mattress, scrambling, the cleric urged softly, “Ground yourself. Will, look at me. Look at me.”
But Will wasn’t there. He was somewhere no one else has ever been. Somewhere cold and dark where the walls breathed and the creatures screamed without words. The knight reached again, slower again, but his armor still creaked, a metallic rearrangement causing Will to flinch violently in the opposite direction.
“Don’t touch me!” ripped out of him as a reflex.
Michael withdrew his hand at once, watching helplessly as Will curled in tighter on himself, open palms clamping over his ears, as if he was trying to block out an imaginary voice.
The cleric swallowed hard, turning to his husband and murmuring, “It is not an enemy of steel, darling. It is of memory.”
The knight’s jaw tightened at his distaste for an enemy he couldn’t see, let alone draw a sword to.
Michael attempted, quieter this time, “You are safe. No dungeon. No darkness.”
Will’s eyes flickered with desperation, not the recognition the paladin was hoping for.
“It won’t stop,” he gasped. “It won’t stop.”
The cleric tried once more to steady him, his hands hovering near his shoulders, but Will recoiled, shoving once more without thought.
“No!” His breathing was too uneven, sobs pouring from his trembling lips. One of Will’s hands was pushing at his own chest, emphasizing a point he wasn’t able to articulate quite yet. His gaze was stuck between the two attempting to console him, over their shoulders, where the open doorway mocked him in its emptiness.
Will’s voice broke completely, “I need-”
He couldn’t finish it at first, swallowing more air that won’t fill him the way he wanted.
“I need Mike,” Will insisted through his tears, his pointed hand still digging between his pectoral muscles as he punched out, desperate, “I need my Mike.”
The paladin looked towards the open door behind him in heavy silence. He knew exactly which one it was that Will meant.
Making his way to the bedroom on the opposite end of the cabin he’s shared with a form of a brother he’s imagined, the knight found Mike sitting on the edge of his bed, back hunched over as he wrung his hands in his lap. Mike stared down at them in the dark, moonlight streaming from the nearby window, eyes holding something resembling both guilt and self-pity.
“You are summoned. Now,” the knight said plainly. He watched the boy swallow, his throat bobbing as he remained with his back towards the door.
“He’s got you. He doesn’t-”
“He does not,” Michael insisted. “I do not wish to repeat myself. You are making a mistake.”
“And what is that?” Mike asked, turning on the bed to look at the taller version of him in metal in the doorway.
“You have mistaken protection for presence.”
Mike blinked hard at the statement.
The knight urged, anger in his tone as he fixed the other with a stare sharp enough to cleave stone, “Go. Or I will drag you.”
With a sigh, Mike stood from his bed, making the trip down the hall to the man in need, Michael following just behind. Will’s eyes snapped up to him instantly as he heard the floorboards under the taller boy’s feet creak. There was no longer the confused glass of distance in the green eyes that held almost too much to be looked into. An immediate overwhelming relief took them over, visibly shifting as his watery gaze met Mike’s. William carefully eased back from the bed, allowing Mike to kneel at the bedside where the knight had been only minutes before. The paladin and the cleric took up the space of the doorway, watching the interaction. Mike didn’t reach for Will right away, knowing better than to lead with a sudden hand.
“Hey,” he whispered softly in a voice reserved only for Will, despite him never asking for it. “It’s me.”
Will’s breathing was still somewhat frantic, but the pace faltered at the sound of the voice that soothed him. Mike continued, keeping his voice low with zero sense of rush or urgency.
“You’re here, Will. You’re just in your bed. It’s late. Nothing is touching you. You’re okay. Nothing is happening.”
Out of pure instinct, desperate for closeness, one of Will’s hands twitched towards Mike, hesitant and trembling at the edges of his fingers. Mike pulled himself up, grunting as he pushed off the bone of his knees, sitting on the edge of the bed as Will crawled to come next to him. Mike took his trembling hand, gripping it in his lap as his brunette companion pushed his head into his shoulder.
“Hey. Hey, look at me.”
Will did as Mike asked, lifting his head with a gaze weighed by both exhaustion and lingering fear. Mike inhaled slowly, then let out his held breath in demonstration.
“Match me,” Mike instructed gently.
Will followed in time as best as he could, past the stuttering that shook his chest. Mike took it upon himself to push a hard hand against his sternum, helping him keep still.
“Stay steady,” he murmured. “Feel that? You’re okay.”
Will’s free hand moved up, working a curled fist tight into the fabric of his tee shirt, as he felt the panic in him begin a slow and painful unwind, like a knot being worked loose strand by strand.
William and Michael exchanged a quiet, shared look and both stepped back. This wasn’t a battle made for steel or for prayer or for spells. It was something else entirely that belonged to the two who they had met within their own timeline. They left the door cracked, convening in the hallway together. Mike’s voice from inside the room was dull and muffled, yet steady in tone. He counted Will through his breathing, helping him follow Mike on his own. As the paladin watched just outside the threshold of the room, he felt Wiliam tuck himself beside his body, pressing a cheek against his bicep.
“He’s syncing to him,” William murmured affectionately, watching the other boys alongside his husband.
“I know.”
They listened in silence for a moment, as Mike whispered, barely audible, “In for four…Out for four…”
Michael exhaled in relief, “It seems to be working.”
The cleric hummed softly, “Of course it is.”
The knight looked down upon the shorter man, a reverence in his stare.
“You used to get like that. In the early years, when your mind would take you down such devastating paths at night.”
“They did not take me,” William insisted, his voice still fond and gentle.
“Dove, you would wake up gripping your mattress like you wanted it to fall apart in your fingers.”
After a thoughtful pause, the cleric reluctantly agreed, “Perhaps I did.”
“And I would have to remind you that you were not in that dungeon anymore,” Michael continued, taking one of his husband’s hands in his. “I would place your hand here.” He brought the palm to the center of his armor, right over his sternum. “And I would command you to match me.”
“You did not command.”
“I absolutely commanded.”
The cleric smiled fondly at the other.
“And it worked quite well, Michael.”
Inside the room, Mike shifted closer to Will, whispering into his ear. Neither in the hallway could properly make out what was said, but the sound of Mike’s voice gave away reassurance stained with fear. William watched as the paladin’s expression sharpened.
“He believes he is obsolete. It makes him stupid,” the knight said quietly.
William didn't pretend to misunderstand this.
“You believe that is because of you?”
“The idea of me,” Michael corrected.
The cleric tilted his head, chuckling softly and stating, “You can be insufferably heroic, my love.”
“I am efficiently competent. That should not be insufferable!”
“You once attempted to duel a tree because you thought it ‘looked hostile’.”
“Its symmetry was poor,” Michael attempted to reason.
Cleric William laughed again under his breath, leaning further into Michael’s side.
Carefully, William stated, “Mike thinks you are what his Will would prefer.”
“Well, what do you prefer, darling?”
The cleric confirmed without hesitation, “I prefer you.”
The knight looked back through the door at the boys curled together on the tangled bedsheets.
“But Will, he called for his Mike. I heard that correctly, did I not?”
“Yes,” William said.
“Not for a knight.”
“No.”
Michael’s mouth turned upwards in a faint, understanding smile, no sense of hurt or pride.
“He does not need my armor,” Paladin Michael concluded. “He needs the boy who will make him believe the dark is less frightening than it is.”
“You are learning,” William said, smiling at his partner.
The knight scoffed quietly, “I have always known.”
“You have always needed some reminding.”
The knight looked down at his husband, pressing a gentle hand to his face, finding a warmth on the other’s skin.
“In our world,” he began, his voice quieter than before, “you once told me that your nightmares were not asking for defeat. They were asking not to be faced alone. Do you think that is the case for Will?”
“I believe so,” William agreed. “Why do you ask?”
“I think… I think they are circling the truth.”
“How so?”
Michael answered, “They need each other as they are now. Not as you and I. They are both necessary to each other as we are.”
“They are circling the truth,” William restated for the other. “They are terrified of it.”
“They are fools.”
“Indeed, but they are us.”
Paladin Michael considered that for a moment before conceding, “Yes.”
Amused by the sparkle forming in his eyes, the cleric asked, “You are going to interfere?”
“I will not interfere. I am going to expedite.”
“Is that not interference with grander branding?” William teased.
The knight pressed a hand at the small of the cleric’s back, an affectionate and grounding touch of normalcy, before defending, “They require guidance, my love. Plus, if they are here, then you and I can be together down there.” Michael nodded in the direction of the bedroom that only an hour prior, he had been sharing with the man so similar to himself.
“I love the way your brain works, darling,” William doted. “Have you come up with a plan to guide them, as you say?” Silently, the two shared a look, before he claimed. “You intend to threaten him.”
“Only lightly.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.” Michael looked down at his partner with a grin that swallowed the lower half of his face, the hand on William’s back rubbing a gentle pressure against his skin.
Inside the room, Will echoed a small sound of exhaustion, slumping further against Mike. Mike instantly responded, welcoming the need for support and pulling Will against his chest. The knight’s eyes softened at the sight, watching the boy who had been so timid only minutes before blossom in his desire to comfort the person that should be his soulmate.
“They need each other in this world,” he observed quietly.
“As we did in ours,” the cleric agreed, nodding.
“In every world, we still find each other.”
“We always will.” William watched Michael begin to step towards the open bedroom door. “Time to meddle?”
“I am not going to meddle. It is time to remind the boy that there are things in every world that are mightier than a blade.”
“That was quite poetic,” William crooned.
Michael winked, asking, “Do not tell anyone.”
When the paladin and the cleric entered back into the darkened room, Will was much calmer than before, halfway to asleep. His breathing was still uneven in the way it usually was after a heavy cry, his lashes damp with the evidence. One of his hands maintained a loose grip on Mike’s shirt, like it was the only stable thing he could grasp for. Mike remained perched on the end of the bed as Will slouched against him, brushing a thumb over the knuckles of the opposite hand he held in his lap.
“You should probably try to sleep again, Will,” Mike said quietly. “You have-”
The doorway creaked under the duo of footsteps, causing Mike to stiffen and pause in his sentence. Paladin Michael stood in front of the two cuddled on the bed, broad-shouldered and deliberate, as Cleric William perched just behind him. The knight’s eyes flickered once over to Will, taking the time to catalogue his steadier breathing, his heavy-lidded eyes, and the hands clutched tightly into Mike. Michael brought his gaze over to the pale boy, attempting to convict him.
“You will remain,” he insisted.
Mike stuttered, “I- that’s not- he’s calmer now. I can just-”
“You will remain.”
Mike bristled, an aggravation building as he started, “I think I can decide-”
“You mistake what I have told you for a suggestion,” the knight interrupted. Over his shoulder, William hid an amused smile into one of his sleeves, while Mike glared up at the armored version of himself.
“He doesn’t need me to-”
“He does.” Mike opened his mouth, before the paladin cut him off straightaway. “He asked for you. Not for a prayer or for my sword. He called for you.”
Mike’s jaw tightened as he looked down at the barely conscious boy pressing into his chest, muttering, “He has you. You’re…” Mike had no end to his thoughts.
The knight sighed, kneeling down by the bed with a look of frustrated understanding. He studied the grip of Will’s hand in the fabric over Mike’s chest, his fingers twitching in a claw every few breaths. The cotton was wrinkling between his fingers, his grasp desperate, like he expected Mike to be snatched away by whatever had tormented him in his sleep. Mike hasn’t tried to shift away even once, despite saying that he should leave the man alone for the night. If anything, he’s angled himself towards Will, the width of his body encompassing the brunette. The paladin noticed the pacing of Mike’s breathing, watching the slow and intentional pulls in and out of his nose. He was matching Will’s sighing, keeping the rhythm even enough to follow.
“You are a fool,” Michael stated. Behind him, the cleric cleared his throat.
“My love-”
“I say this with affection,” he amended immediately, not turning away from Mike and Will. Reaching forward with a nonthreatening hand, the knight took the trembling hand of Will’s from its place on Mike’s shirt, the tension of the fabric over his stomach releasing. The sleeping boy stirred, but did not wake up.
The paladin took the hand he’d acquired and guided it upwards, placing it flat over the crest of Mike’s chest.
Right over his heart.
Mike’s mouth dropped open, no words finding him, as Michael’s other hand pressed gently on one of his shoulders.
“Lie down,” the knight ordered.
Mike sputtered, “I don’t- I can’t just-”
“You can and you will.”
Giving into the request, Mike shuffled down awkwardly, trying his best not to disturb the sleeping boy in his embrace. The mattress dipped under their weight as he attempted to perch his shoulders just right against the pillows, Will’s hand remaining anchored over his chest. Michael moved the hand once more, ensuring full contact over the place of the pulse.
“Leave it,” Michael instructed firmly.
“I wasn’t going to-”
“If you remove his hand, I shall remove yours.”
The cleric interjected, “He jests.”
“I do not,” the knight doubled down.
Mike stared up at the paladin, hissing, “You can’t just threaten to chop off my hand like some kind of medieval psychopath.”
“I can,” Michael replied evenly. “I have a sword.”
Mike looked down to Will’s hand over his chest, his palm radiating warmth through the fabric of his shirt. His thumb brushed up and down monotonously, following a silent rhythm only his sleeping form could replicate. Mike’s heartbeat felt too loud in his own ears, the presence of the thrumming overwhelming him. Paladin Michael leaned over to speak truth straight to Mike, pushing a finger out towards him.
“Will must know that you remain. When he wakes up in a fright, he reaches for certainty.” His outstretched finger tapped twice on Mike’s breastbone, just above one of Will’s fingers. “This is his certainty.” Mike’s breath hitched at the knight’s statement, staring with a look that bordered on wonder at the other two men as William stepped forward to help situate the comforter over Mike and Will.
“He will listen for it, even in his sleep,” the cleric mused softly. “It is important that he always finds it.”
Mike’s breathing faltered for a moment as he looked down at the face of his closest friend pressed sideways against his chest. Will’s mouth was just a little too slack to keep his lips closed, parting to release gentle huffs of air onto Mike’s cheek. The tension in his brows had eased as he followed along with the slow rhythm beneath his palm that Mike held under his ribcage.
“He does not need a fight,” Michael insisted, watching as the young version of himself did not so much as flinch at his words, his eyes still drawn down to the man in his arms. “Do not move,” he warned one final time.
Mike rolled his eyes, finally looking up at the ironclad knight.
“You already threatened me, remember?”
“I will threaten again if it is necessary.”
Cleric William smiled, inching back towards the doorway to signal for the knight to follow him away. The paladin’s gaze flickered between them, finding the way Will’s fingers curled instinctively tighter in sleep, and the way Mike’s body had responded, the hand not tucked around the other rubbing across Will’s arm to soothe the movement. Satisfied with himself, he finally followed his husband from the room, letting the door fall almost shut, the lock still undone.
Inside the bedroom, the only sounds that were audible were that of Will’s sound sleep and Mike’s thunderous heartbeat. The man on his back didn’t dare shift, even as the boy on his chest pushed his thumb down against the pulsing skin, as if he was confirming Mike was still there.
Mike exhaled, before assuring the sleeping form gently, “I’m here.”
Will was not awake to hear it, but Mike still hoped it helped.
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Mike had no idea how many hours had passed. He had spent most of the night awake, sharing time between staring at the ceiling and staring down at Will, hoping to find no warning of another nightmare. The boy on his chest didn’t remain perfectly still through his sleep. His breath still caught on a few of his inhales, like his body hadn’t quite been forgiven for the dream his mind had brought about. But all of the sharp edges of the night were gone, leaving Will in a state of blissful exhaustion, while Mike didn’t dare to even relax an inch of his body, scared to wake him back up. His arm was growing numb under the weight of the other, and his back ached from the lack of support underneath him. But he didn’t care that much for his own comfort.
After some time, marked by the change in the color of the sky just past the window glass, Will began to surface, not quite fully conscious at first. His lashes fluttered too low to expose the green of his eyes, and his eyebrows scrunched with the effort to come back from sleep. Mike turned his head down to him immediately, attempting to shush him back to rest.
“Hey,” he murmured, tiredness weighing down his words. “You’re okay. Sleep.”
Will didn’t fully open his eyes, but he tilted his head upward against Mike’s chest, the top of his nose brushing just under the jawline of the boy cradling him.
“You came.”
His voice was drowning in his delirium, acting like it was a surprise to find Mike in his bed, despite him being there before Will had succumbed to sleep. Mike swallowed hard, the dragging of Will’s nose under his chin almost too affectionate for him to feel worthy enough of accepting.
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
In a small space of silence, Will’s fingers pressed harder down into Mike’s chest.
“You didn’t before.”
Will’s words held no accusation or anger in them, just a confusion that created a tightness in Mike’s throat.
“What?” Mike asked.
“When I called you before.” Will’s eyes were still heavy at their lids, unable to open. “He came.” There was no need for Will to clarify who ‘he’ was. “He was there first.”
The truth sat too fragile and too sharp for Mike to swallow properly. Instead, he forced out a hushed punch of humorless laughter.
“He’s faster,” Mike stated lamely.
Will’s brows furrowed over his shut eyes.
“I called you.”
Something teasing at guilt crept between Mike’s ribs, the simplicity of Will’s words threatening to undo him. Unable to accept the tears that want to come, Mike turned his head away, staring in the opposite direction at absolutely nothing. It was as if the slightly open door to their room had become the main focus of conversation.
“You didn’t need me.”
Mike’s confession was meek, like he didn’t want it to be heard. But his admission had eaten away at the room’s lack of noise, and Will had heard it like a scream. His eyes finally opened, finding himself face to face with the open length of Mike’s neck, his head turned opposite him.
“What are you-”
“You’ve got him,” Mike continued, his voice low and careful in delivery as he struggled to make sense of his own feelings. “And he is… everything that I’m not.”
Will’s blinking grew rapid, as he tried to pull himself awake faster than his body wanted him to.
“Everything?” Will asked, clarifying he had heard correctly. Mike shrugged, the movement clear under Will’s open palm.
“Michael is brave.” He said it as if the name was not shared between the two. “He knows exactly what to do and he doesn’t hesitate. And he doesn’t screw up. He knows exactly what William wants, its like he can read his mind. Exactly what you want.”
Will pushed himself up, attempting to find Mike’s face in the dark. Despite wanting to, Mike did not turn as he felt Will reposition against him.
“Mike, what are you talking about?”
“I saw how you drew him. It was like… he was your ideal. Like he belonged in your art.”
“Mike-” Will’s breath hitched.
“He’s me,” Mike finished quickly, like he needed to get the rest out before he lost his nerve. “He’s me, just better. Better for you.”
Will paused, before trying to ask, “You think that’s why I-”
“Why you what?” Mike’s voice cracked as he turned his head back, a wetness falling over his eyes as he met Will’s gaze, which was full of concern. “Why you needed him?”
“I didn’t need him,” the other argued.
“You called him.”
“I called you!”
As they held still and quiet, Mike could see the redness lingering around Will’s eyes, a physical stain of both his exhaustion and his vulnerability.
“He woke up before I did,” Mike admitted. “What kind of a person does that make me? By the time I was awake, he was already in the room.” Mike faltered, embarrassed at his inadequacy. “I just… I didn’t think-” He couldn’t finish, his eyebrows pushing together as he begged for Will to find a way to understand.
“You didn’t think I wanted you?”
Mike didn’t answer, which was all the confirmation Will needed.
Will shifted closer, his hand sliding up off the chest of the man laid on his back staring down at him. Mike’s instant thought went to how he would lose his hand for this, soon replaced by a breathless surprise as the gentle hand of the boy he held found the skin of his throat, his thumb pressing into the shallow dip where his pulse pounded at its strongest. His finger brushed back and forth against the hollow, committing the beat to his memory, as he studied Mike’s face with a devotion that shook the pale boy to his core.
“He is not you.”
Mike huffed, “He literally is me.”
“No.” Will’s voice was stronger, more certain than Mike had heard ever before. “He barely knows me, Mike. This version of me.” Mike feels his chest tighten, blinking hard down at the other. “He doesn’t know that I sleep with my lamp on half the time. He doesn’t know that I hum when I’m trying not to cry. He doesn’t even know my favorite song. You do.”
Mike was silent, unsure of how to respond.
“Michael is brave. But he’s not what I want.”
Mike gasped, barely audible, as Will’s thumb dug harder against his pulse point, rooting himself.
“I don’t want a knight, Mike. I want my best friend.”
The words ‘best friend’ seemed so much smaller than they used to. Too small.
“You deserve someone like him, Will,” Mike pushed quietly.
“Why do you keep saying that?” Will’s expression was one of hurt, too painful for Mike to look at without causing himself pain too.
“Because he is not scared. He wouldn’t-” Mike cursed under his breath at himself before continuing. “He wouldn’t lay here and wonder how he’s supposed to be good enough for you.”
“Mike, I don’t need some version of you who doesn’t ever get scared.” He spoke as if this was some deep fact that had been sitting between them for years. “I want the one that does.”
“Why would you want that?”
“Because you stay anyways. You stayed when you were scared. And it wasn’t easy. You stayed when most wouldn’t, and-”
“Stop.” Mike shut his eyes, shaking his head.
“No.” Will shook his own in return. “You think he’s better because… because he has a sword? That’s not the kind of strength I need. You are strong because you have stayed and I… I don’t even know why.” His voice broke, snapping off at the end like a twig.
Mike opened his eyes, reaching down to take a hold of Will’s face as the green eyes of the boy he adored widened.
“Because you are the most important person in my life, Will.” The words are coming out too sudden to stop them, tumbling from his lips before he knew what he was confessing to. “You always have been.”
“Mike-”
“I don’t have a sword.” Mike’s voice was shaking as he continued on. “And I don’t have anything magical to me. I don’t even know how to do this- how to do anything right. I don’t know how to do this without being scared, but if something ever fucking came for you, I would give my life to protect you.”
It should feel more dramatic, more intense, but instead, its a relief to both.
“I would burn down a million other dimensions before I ever let another one take you.”
“That’s why,” Will responded, hushed in tone.
“Why what?”
“That’s why it's you.”
The phrase, while true, terrified Mike. To feel so much for someone must be the biggest risk of all. Will was the one he could not lose.
“My Mike.”
The sleepy adoration in his voice cracked away at any hesitation Mike had ever had about his feelings for Will, the fighting against the feeling held under his ribs stopping all at once. He pushed his forehead down, his nose brushing against the other’s.
“I thought you didn’t need me anymore,” he admitted.
“You are so stupid.” Both of the boys laughed at Will’s statement. “Don’t do that again.”
“Think?” Mike asked.
“Yeah.”
Silence.
Then, Will broke first.
“I love you.”
It landed deep in Mike’s chest, finding a corner that was older than any of his fears or his doubt or any drawing or armor or the Upside Down. This was the thing he had wanted, unspoken of for longer than he’d ever admit, and he wanted to finally be brave enough to take it. He wanted this to belong to him.
“I love you too,” he sighed, feeling something unlock within him.
Will’s fingers tightened around Mike’s collar, and its become clear to both at the same time how much closer they are now than they were before. Mike can see the edges of the golden patches in Will’s eyes, and Will could count every freckle spattered on Mike’s face if he had the time. Their noses brushed, and Will hesitated, giving the other room to pull away.
Yet, Mike was the first to bridge the gap.
One hand moved slow enough for Will to see it coming, cupping the back of his neck. Mike’s fingers slid into the edges of the soft hair curtaining the nape of his neck, before the man felt confident enough to take a gentle hold of a larger section. Will inhaled sharply, a small and honest sound. The first press of their lips was soft, Mike testing what the other wanted from his mouth. They were both careful, almost too much so, afraid to startle the other. Will exhaled against Mike’s lips, letting out a quiet and shaky breath. It was as if the final bit of nightmarish panic had left Will’s body under Mike’s touch.
Mike tilted his head, deepening the kiss to where he wanted it. Turning the wrong way, his nose bumped Will’s, awkward and perfect. One of Will’s hands slid up, fisting gently at the fabric resting on Mike’s clothed shoulder, the other still brushing against the side of his neck where his heart pounded, his thumb etching wordless affections into the pale skin. Mike kicked hard at the blanket tangled between both of their legs, shifting closer on instinct and curving against Will. The kiss was warm and gentle, but no longer so reserved. Mike wanted Will to feel his need, surrounded by a promise that he would wait forever for him if he needed to.
Will’s lips parted, and Mike followed without thought, his tongue mingling with the other’s. There was no urgency, the sliding of flesh slow and unhurried. It was a quiet discovery of what they had spent countless times imagining being brought to life, now that both knew this was allowed. A soft sound echoed from Will’s throat, and Mike offered his own in return. It was more out of relief, like they had found something in the dark they had always been searching for.
Will pulled back just enough to breathe, resting his forehead to Mike’s with a short-winded chuckle.
“Was that okay?”
Mike smiled faintly, brushing his nose lightly against the other’s with intended movement this time.
“Yeah.”
Will’s thumb pressed gently again at the hollow in the side of his throat, feeling the new rhythm of Mike’s breathing.
“Your heart’s racing.”
“You just told me that you love me. Can you cut me some fucking slack?”
Will laughed brightly, his eyes scrunching at the sides, and it made Mike blush. Hiding his reaction, he leaned down again, giving Will a kiss just as slow and deep and intentional as the last. Mike’s hand slid down from Will’s neck to his spine, gently spreading outwards on his back to pull him firmly closer. His mouth upturned into their kiss as he felt Will melt into his embrace without hesitation.
Neither wanted to pull away, but eventually they did, settling back into their positions of sleep, Will splayed against Mike’s chest as he laid back, tucking his chin atop the mess of brown hair below him.
As Will’s palm settled back onto the top of Mike’s chest, he whispered into his shirt, “I don’t want you to think you’re replaceable.”
Mike kissed the top of his head, whispering “Okay.” It was the closest to agreeing he felt he could get. “Go to sleep. I’ll be here.”
—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sunlight pressed through the thin curtains of the bedroom window, too pale and too early for Mike. For a moment, he couldn’t open his eyes, the brightness already teasing itself too harsh behind his eyelids. He was aware of the weight beside him, a warm pressure starting at his side and spreading across him where all the parts of Will met his own. Mike could feel one of Will’s legs tossed over his left leg, while his foot nudged under the right one, a criss cross of limbs.
When Mike’s eyes finally showed themselves to the daylight, he found Will turned fully inward against him, his cheek turned inward just below Mike’s collarbone. His breathing was slow and even, showing him lost in real and untroubled sleep.
Will’s hand was no longer pressed open to his chest, but had traveled higher in the night. The flat of his hand was against the collar of his shirt, and his thumb was again, pressed at the point of pulse on the side of Mike’s throat, right where the rhythm was strong and impossible to miss. As Mike swallowed instinctively, Will’s thumb shifted against the movement, then settled again. Even asleep, he was still checking for the proof of Mike.
It’s unbearably intimate: the quiet insistence of that small, unconscious gesture. It’s as if Will’s body, even in peaceful rest, refused to forget that he could lose Mike. Even after confessions and kisses and promises, he still needed to know that he was held through the night.
Mike shifted slightly, trying to ease the numbness that had grown overnight in his shoulder. This earned a small sound out of Will’s parted lips, his fingers tightening instantly in his slumber. His thumb pressed down more firmly, searching again, before finding the beat in Mike’s neck.
“Okay,” he whispered, barely audible against the skin of Will’s forehead. “I’m here.” Once Will’s breathing deepened again, Mike exhaled slowly in relief, careful not to disturb him this time. Watching him slip back into peace makes Mike’s heart flip like something stupid in his chest.
His Mike.
That’s what Will had called him.
The perfect version of Mike for this perfect version of Will.
Mike allowed Will to sleep longer, as the sharp light of the morning turned warm and golden, spilling over the tangled sheets. He spent the time watching Will’s small movements against his chest, until the bedroom door creaked farther open.
Michael’s head popped through, just enough to peek in. He scanned the bed, his eyes narrowing as if he was preparing for attack.
“Hmm,” he murmured. “Interesting positioning.”
Mike sat up slightly, keeping his arms around Will, greeting the other, “Morning.”
The knight tilted his head, his armor gleaming faintly in the sunlight.
“Good morning. I see the hand remained in its designated location last night. Your compliance is noted.” He gave Mike an encouraging smile. “Well done.”
Will finally spoke, half-awake, “He’s… watching?”
“Apparently,” Mike groaned softly in answer.
The paladin stepped fully into the room, hands clasped behind his back formally. He leaned over slightly, eyes flickering between their faces.
“I must admit, when I threatened your… limb removal last night, I expected a struggle. More protest. Perhaps some tactical repositioning of the hand, even, to fool me. But I am happily surprised. Seems you have finally come to your right of mind.”
Will stifled a giggle, resting his forehead against Mike’s cheek with his eyes still shut.
“He’s impressed with our…tactical exercises?”
Mike chuckled, “Yeah, sure. Tactical exercises.”
The knight stilled, cocking his head to the side in confusion.
“Tactical exercises, you say?”
A pause was shared for way too long.
Michael’s eyes flickered to the tangled sheets the two men were laying in, to Will practically draped over Mike with an exhausted grin, and to the tightness of Mike’s arm around the other. His posture straightened immediatley.
“Oh. I see.” His jaw tightened, features plagued by mortification. “I was under the impression this was simply a matter of… comfort.” The knight cleared his throat, backing towards the door with a speed that caused his metal clothing to sound aloud. “Clearly, I have intruded on an entirely different matter. My apologies.”
“It’s not-” Mike choked.
“You need not explain,” the Paladin cut him off swiftly, holding up a gauntleted hand. “I require no further information.”
Will made the almost fatal mistake of laughing straight into Mike’s shoulder as he pieced together himself what the knight had mistakenly pieced together alone.
“You may continue your… tactical exercises, as you called them. If the hands relocate, I will assume consent has been mutually established and shall not intervene.”
“Oh my God,” Mike whispered, his face on fire as he covered it with one hand.
Before either of the boys could correct him, Michael was gone, shutting the door all the way behind him this time.
“Did he just ask if we were having sex?” Will asked, still snickering against Mike’s shoulder.
“Please kill me.”
“So yes, he was?”
“God, it was like having the talk with my mom all over again,” Mike groaned, staring up at the ceiling, his hand on Will’s back rubbing a slow, firm circle into the peek of skin under his shirt hem. “And he was so concerned about it, too. Holy shit.”
“I mean, is he wrong to be concerned?”
Mike’s eyebrows shot up as he turned to look down at Will, lowering down to stare him dead in the eyes.
“Is he?” Mike asked curiously.
Will shot an embarrassed smirk up at him, before nuzzling his blushed face back into the cotton of Mike’s tee shirt.
“Shut up.”