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Mike has no idea when it clicked, but wanting to pin his best friend down on the couch and spend the rest of their Sunday morning in a soft, lazy kiss was the first sign of doom.
Will relaxes with his head tilted back, enjoying the sunlight seeping through their apartment window. He’s comfortable in an oversized sweater (Mike’s, definitely) and bare legs freely stretched out on their coffee table.
At that moment, the artist was the art, and Mike’s breath hitches when Will’s attention turns to him.
“Hey, mind pouring me a cup too?”
Of course, gorgeous. Pretty. Whatever you want. “Sure,” Mike searches the cupboards for a mug matching his own. It’s a simple task, but the quickening pace of his heartbeat thrummed in his ears.
He returns in front of the coffee machine. He pours, silently reciting the multiplication table to calm the feelings he might just confess out loud for Will to overhear and decidedly end their friendship forever.
“Mike, it’s going to overflow!” The sudden touch to his elbow made him flinch, causing the pot to slip from his hands and the mug to topple over, the hot coffee spilling all over the counter.
It was a disaster — a clumsy, terrible one that Mike had to pause and silently berate himself for. “I— uhm, shit!” His body moves without hesitation, reaching for the dishrag in the sink and wiping the counter.
“Mike,” Will calls out with a chuckle, and he raises his head in immediate attention.
Will’s cheeks are pink with laughter, eyes crinkling as they keep stray tears at bay, and Mike swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful. “I— your coffee! Shit, Will, I’m so sorry! I’ll make a fresh batch for you if you can wait, shit—”
It’s suddenly very hot, Mike thinks.
And again, Will’s unhesitating touch makes Mike dizzy with affection. “You don’t have to, Mike, but thank you.”
“I’ll just,” Will smirks mischievously, “drink from yours.” Mike swallows and zeroes in on Will’s lips touching his mug, causing a tickling feeling to settle in his stomach.
“Right! Right, yeah, of course. Go ahead,” Mike sputters. He doesn’t say anything else, afraid he might accidentally voice his jealousy over the piece of ceramic.
Will is too pretty in his sweater, and it sends a shiver up Mike’s spine at the thought of showering Will with kisses that’ll make him laugh and let Mike hear that glorious sound again.
God, he sounds pathetic.
But he’s been pathetic for Will his entire life (a realization he’s made only yesterday), so it’s completely okay, Mike rationalizes.
“Mike, you’re doing it again,” Will pouts. Mike smiles, settling Will’s concern. Don’t do that. I might kiss you right here, right now.
“What do you want to do today, Will? We’ve been so busy with our projects that we barely have time to hang out.”
Will walks around the counter towards the sink, decreasing their distance. He seems to be in deep thought, considering what to reply, as he pumps soap onto the sponge and lathers the mugs with soap in a gentle, circular motion.
He hums, “We could watch that movie you’ve been ranting about since last week.” Will’s foot raises to absently scratch his calf, and Mike’s eyes could only follow every movement.
“Or we could watch the series I’ve been ranting about. It really depends on what we eat for lunch, I think.” The scratching stops, and Will shifts his weight, leaning forward to scrub at the pot they used for dinner last night.
Mike internally panics, having almost inappropriate thoughts of his best friend’s ass as it sends him into a frenzy. It’s perfectly plump, and he wants to lay his head on it.
Mike clears his throat. “I’m okay with either. We could get something delivered for lunch, if we’re weighing options.” Will nods in reply, setting the sponge down. Slowly, he raises his arms, pulling the sweater’s sleeves up. “Chinese? I’ve been really craving, Mike.”
Mike short-circuits as the sweater rides up, exposing the baby blue dolphin shorts Will wore that flatter everything they hide. I’ve been really craving Mike. And along Will’s hipbone, a peek of ink that Mike couldn’t comprehend before the fabric once again hid it. I’ve been really craving Mike.
Will had a craving, and Mike would be a fool to refuse. “Yes! Yes, anything you want, Will. Just tell me,” Mike gulped.
Will turns to him with a gentle smile, and Mike’s breathing stutters. “Really?” Mike nods eagerly. Will beams, “I really thought you’d refuse! You’ve been shutting down my cravings the entire week, Mike. The entire week!”
Now, why would I do that? Mike raises an eyebrow.
“I want orange chicken, the dumplings Lucas ordered for us before, and a double portion of chow mein. Did you get that?”
A beat passes by before Mike nods dumbly, then turns away as his cheeks redden in embarrassment. Will was craving for Chinese food, and he completely misheard like a perverted idiot. “I’ll call our usual place, then.”
“They close on Sundays. Call our second usual place,” Will mentions, embracing Mike in a quick side hug before heading to the shower. Mike stays frozen in place, overly aware of the heat left from Will’s hug.
This could be a good time to reflect on his (wholesome, maybe even a little inappropriate) thoughts from this morning, especially when the person he bears affections for was in another room.
Mike dials the restaurant, stumbling to place their lunch order. Afterwards, he collapses on their couch, groaning as he messes his hair up.
It’s one thing to realize that you’ve been in love with your best friend.
And it’s another struggle when you’re living with said best friend, who has worn half your wardrobe just because they want to, steals your chocolate bars in the fridge, watches the movies they want during movie nights when it’s your pick, but does no wrong anyway — all because Mike’s utterly, devastatingly, completely smitten with Will Byers.
Moth to a flame. Icarus to the sun. Water to salt. Mike Wheeler to Will Byers, and it’s been like that since he’s done the best thing ever.
Mike sighs heavily, eyes locked on their bathroom door.
Beyond it, a desire. One that Mike’s unsure he’s willing to act on because Will’s never been hot and cold.
He’s always been lukewarm — carefully treading the lines of friendship and something more. It’s a fact Mike’s known since their DnD campaign after highschool graduation, with Will looking at him like that, it stirred the pot he’s kept on low heat this whole time.
The bathroom door opens, and Mike has to look away. "Was the place open, Mike?”
It’s Will. “Yeah. The second one was.” It’s Will with a towel hanging dangerously low on his waist, smelling heavenly of almond from the shower steam. His hair is wetly tousled in the right way, giving Mike his fourth mini heart attack of the day (and it’s not even noon yet).
“Nice. I’m stealing your pink sweater, by the way,” Will smiles, a silent question for permission.
Whatever you want, darling. What’s mine is yours. You don’t have to ask anymore. “Sure. It’s on the bed,” Mike motions Will to enter his bedroom, closing his eyes as the other boy does so.
It’s on the bed because he placed it out there, hoping Will would see it earlier that morning, think to wear it after his shower, and Mike would be graced with Will in pink. It’s successful, but Mike keeps these thoughts under lock and key because Will doesn’t need to know, not really.
“Mike, is this oversized on you, too?” Will reenters the room, seeing his best friend manspread on the couch, head tilted back with his eyes closed. Mike hums in response, seated still.
And it’s only when a weight drops in his lap that Mike’s eyes shoot open, hands instinctively holding onto whatever was closest. “You’re being weird again,” Will murmured, unaware of the control Mike was currently trying to exert.
His hands are warm, completely holding Will’s thighs in place. “I’m not. I’m not,” Mike emphasized, eyes looking everywhere but Will. “Friends don’t lie, Mike,” Will replied, shifting himself to set his entire weight on the boy beneath him.
Will takes Mike’s face in his hands and puts their foreheads together. “You don’t have a fever, so what’s wrong?” he asks, keeping eye contact.
Mike gulps, and Will’s hands slowly drop lower, his thumb tracing over his Adam’s apple. “Will,” he whispers. His eyes lower, down to the moisturized lips, and even lower to see Will’s hardened nipples under the loose sweater. Fuck. Shit. Fuck.
“Mike,” a breath in reply. “My eyes are up here, sweetheart.”
And like every other time, Mike obeys. “You didn’t answer me. Tell me what’s wrong, Mike,” Will starts to gently caress Mike’s nape, and Mike struggles to fight back a moan.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Mike stutters.
“Try again, sweetheart. With a little bravery this time.” And shit, Mike’s only a man — a weak, weak man. “I really want to kiss you, Will. Please, Will. Please.”
Will tilts his head, hands drifting upwards, a teasing pull at Mike’s hair. “Friends don’t kiss,” he whispered, gaze drifting lower to stare at Mike’s trembling, impatient lips.
Mike moves, almost possessed by a courage he’s never had before, one hand drifting upwards to hold Will’s waist, and the other moving around to squeeze Will’s ass. “Friends? No thanks.”
It’s intentional, this sentence.
To this, Will’s eyes lock with Mike’s, and his hands drop to the other boy’s shoulders. “Best friends?” It’s a subtle shift in Will’s behavior, but Mike feels it entirely.
Disappointment, desperation, and sadness. It’s a similar look to the one Will gave years ago, on that dreaded tower.
Mike holds eye contact with Will, lifting and rolling his hips once to feel himself against the other boy. Will’s eyes widen, and his cheeks redden in realization.
“Lovers, if you’ll have me.”
“I have been yours forever,” Will confesses, before leaning in to take what he’s wanted for years. And Mike responds with an insatiable hunger, grinding once more to deepen the kiss at Will’s gasp.
Arms wrap around his neck, and Mike is in heaven hearing the sinful sounds he’s pulling out of Will.
It’s hot and heavy, and he’s forgotten everything else in the world, slowly moving to lay Will down on their couch. It’s exhilarating and freeing, being able to kiss the love of his life this way.
He has Will pinned down on their couch, flushed and breathing heavily, and to Mike’s surprise, present enough to wrap his legs around Mike’s lower back and pull their hips closer together.
“Come back,” Will whined.
And shit, Mike’s gone for him, as he locks their lips again. Sue him, he’s right where he wants to be.