Archive of Our Own

After the chaos of the upside down and Vecna, their senior year is almost boring. They’re settled down, though they still turn their heads at minor sounds. Somehow, miraculously, they survived, though there were several broken bones and severe injuries. Max is still recovering physically, though she can walk much better. Her eyesight never came back, so she’s still getting used to her cane. Mike dislocated his shoulder and broke his leg in two places. Not a fun recovery. Will was physically exhausted for months. Lucas got a massive concussion.

It was a mess.

So, their lives now, going to school and finally getting to do normal things, included things that were sometimes welcome. Their lives are settling down.

One of those normal things they get to- have to- do includes going to the dentist.

Unfortunately, just getting Mike to go proves to be quite the task.

“My teeth are fine. See!” Mike flashed an uncomfortably wide smile to show all 28.

His mom cringed but reminded him of how much he complained about his mouth pain, a fact that Mike miraculously completely forgot about when it was brought up.

“Nice try. I know you have a cavity. I’m pretty sure I can see it. I will make an appointment for you next week. Figure it out.”

His mom schedules it during the school day so she can pick him up and make sure he goes. Smart. He would’ve conveniently forgotten otherwise.

He’s never liked the dentist. It’s uncomfortable and smells weird and invasive and it hurts. Not to mention the drills are way too loud. Who needs something that loud that close to their ears. The chairs look like some medieval torture device. The judas cradle of the medical world. And the dentist is always talking to the hygienist about their weekend in Florida. Nobody needs to hear about it!

As a child, he did bite.

What? He was a kid, it was scary, and someone was putting creepy tools in his mouth. He saw scary movies, obviously it was a ploy to steal his teeth!

Now he knows that removal is low on their possible fixes to issues. It’s still uncomfortable though.

The appointment goes as well as expected. He had one cavity in his molar and it got filled.

Great. Wonderful. Can I leave now?

The dentist, a short man in his 50’s stops him before he can start to get up. “One more thing. Your wisdom teeth need to get removed. They should come out sooner rather than later. If you want, we can get you scheduled while you’re here. Should be an easy extraction.”

Mike turns to look at his mom, panicked. “What?”

Betrayal. Utter betrayal. He is gracious enough to be polite and not say anything while the poke and prod him, and he’s rewarded with another visit? He misses the lady he used to go to when he was eight that gave him a mint and let him pick out a cool toothbrush. He did bite her once too, but she was cool about it!

She rolls her eyes. “Michael. It’s not a big deal. People get them out all the time.”

“What’s a couple of extra teeth gonna do? They’re mine! Why do they want them?” His tone rises as he talks, and he’s not even looking at the dentist, a measly three feet away.

Karen sighs and looks away from Mike to give the dentist a polite smile. “We’ll get that scheduled at the checkout.”

“Good. Have a lovely day, Mrs. Wheeler. See you soon, Michael.”

Mike sits in silence, staring at the floor. What just happened?

The ride home is silent as Mike plans his great escape before next Tuesday. If he runs to Will’s house and explains the situation, Mrs. Byers would probably cover for him. Hopper would rat him out in minutes, though. The old fart is better about his animosity now that Mike is less of a little shit about his relationship with El, especially because their relationship is bordering on platonic nowadays. Hop even gives him playful head scruffs and shoves when he stops by, but he would, without a doubt, give him up.

Mike considers hiding at Lucas’ house, but his parents are too honest and would rat him out too.

Maybe he could skip, go somewhere else for the day. That would probably scare his mom too bad though. Now that she knows what goes bump in the night, she’s a little more observant about what Mike does, which is fair.

He doesn’t end up getting anywhere with his planning, so he has to take desperate measures.

“Please! Please! Please!”

His mom rolls her eyes. “Mike,” she says sternly.

“Please don’t do this to me. I need my teeth. They’ve been good to me!”

He’s not above begging and pleading. He’s not too proud to do it. He’s pretty pathetic when he wants to be. Mike clasps his hands together and tries to make his best puppy dog eyes. Unluckily for him, his mom is used to it, so it doesn’t work very well anymore.

She stares at him unimpressed, but Mike tries again. “Please, my lady! I beseech thee!”

“Michael.”

Change tactics.

With his best shocked and scandalized expression, he looks at his mom and says dramatically, “I survived the apocalypse and you’re going to make me do this?”

Karen cocks her eyebrow and puts her hand on her hip. “Seriously?”

“I helped kill the mind flayer and save Holly’s life,” he reminds her brightly with a finger pointing to the ceiling.

“So, saving Holly’s life means you never go to the dentist again?” she interprets.

“Well… yeah.”

“Well… no,” she parrots in the same tone.

Mike flattens his eyebrows into a deep frown and glowers at his mom. This is turning out to be more challenging than he’d thought. Surely, he thought, the mention of Holly would soften her more. Guilt trips just don’t carry the same punch they used to.

Fortunately, Mike is a persistent creature. He’s analytical. Top of his class. He can find new and innovative ways of tackling the same problem.

Change tactics.

“I’ll… do the dishes for a month,” he offers.

It’s a good deal. One that shows his hand just a bit, but hey, desperate times call for desperate measures, and Mike is one desperate motherfucker today.

His mom finally sighs loudly and says in her most resolute tone, “You are not getting out of this.” It’s her ‘final straw’ voice, and Mike knows he’s lost.

He slumps into the couch and covers face with his arms. He’s the picture of pitiful for a while.

His mom sighs. “Look.”

Mike sits up and looks at her expectantly. Excitedly.

I knew the guilt trip would work.

She sees how excited he is and stamps it down with a finger point. “You have to go.”

He slumps again and groans.

“But…”

 ‘But?’ ‘But’ sounds promising.

“…if you want, you can get one of your friends to hang out with you after.”

“What?”

Karen takes a seat on the couch next to Mike and pats his knee. “I can convince Mrs. Byers to check Will out of school, and he can hang out with you after your appointment at home. How’s that?”

That’s- That might be okay. They can read comics and play video games all afternoon with no one home. That might be a fair trade. He purses his lips and considers the offer.

He tries to stretch the bargain. “Can we order pizza?”

“I don’t think you can eat pizza afterwards.”

Mike frowns exaggeratedly at her and she gives him a small pacifying smile.

“I could buy you guys a couple of pints of ice cream though.”

Oh, now we’re talking.

“Mint chocolate chip, pecan, and strawberry,” he says on reflex.

She smiles a little wider. “Yes, I know he likes mint chocolate.”

Mike smiles for the first time since they got home. “Deal.”

“Shake on it.”

His mom stands up, angles her body to face him, and holds out her hand.

“Spit swear?” he asks playfully.

She scrunches her face in a way that Mike knows from pictures and glimpses in mirrors that he does too. “Don’t be disgusting or I’ll take you now.”

Mike scrambles to get up and shake her hand free of spit.

.

The day arrives and Mike is a ball of nerves. Lucas calls him out on the amount of sweat he’s wiping on his jeans leaving a dark stain. He frowns and starts to wipe them on the inside of the bottom hem of his shirt.

Dustin talks to him in the hallway, wraps a sympathetic arm on his shoulder. “I get it, Mike. I’m not a fan either, but I’ve never had a bad experience, even with all of my visits. I hope your experience is like mine. I’d hate for them to accidentally take out the wrong teeth!”

“Dude!” He swipes the hand off and stares, wide-eyed, at Dustin.

“I’m just saying! I hope they don’t lose something in there or accidentally crack your front teeth. Oh, I also hope that the anesthesia doesn’t kill you. I heard that’s only like a 1 in 200,000 chance. With our luck, though….” He hisses through his teeth.

Mike shoves Dustin roughly, “Asshole!”

His friend answers by laughing loudly as he ducks the subsequent attacks. He darts underneath his arms and runs to his next class.

Will walks towards Mike and Lucas, leaning back to avoid a sprinting Dustin on the way. A teacher down the hall shouts after him, “No running in the halls,” but the boy is long gone.

Will gestures behind him, where Dustin used to be. “What’s his problem?”

“His problem is that he’s a dick,” Mike frowns.

“Ah,” he nods sagely. “He shared his anesthesia statistic with you, huh?”

Mike’s face drops and he all but shouts, “Is it true?!”

“No. No,” Will pacifies. “He’s pulling numbers out of his ass.”

Mike turns his head, like he’s going to see a running Henderson again. Lucas takes the opportunity with his back turned to bring his eyebrows together in question at Will. The shorter boy winces and gives him a tiny head shake. Lucas nods in understanding.

With no sign of Dustin anymore, Mike turns back. “Will, you’re still coming, right?”

“Yeah. Your mom has permission to check me out. We’ll eat ice cream and you’ll be on some good pain meds. It’ll be great.”

“Okay,” he nods.

He can do this. Just some loopy games and ice cream with his best friend. All good. He can make it through some minor procedure if he gets to hang out with Will afterwards. No problem.

Lucas pipes up randomly. “Thanks for the invite, by the way. I was busy with something, but it’s always nice to be included.”

Mike sighs and looks up to the ceiling. “My mom said one friend, dude.”

“And it has to be Will. I get it. He’s the favorite. It’s not like you and I have fought monsters together or I got detention just to keep you company or helped you search for Will whenever he went missing or kept you company when you refused to leave his bedside for 4 days and didn’t shower or-”

“Lucas!” Mike interrupts. “I’m sorry, okay. You can visit tomorrow, I swear.”

He sniffs. “I guess second place is fine.”

Will rolls his eyes. “Whenever you unlock powers to save him from a Demogorgon, then you get first dibs. Until then, we’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lucas’ jaw drops.

“Oh, we’re pulling the powers card, now? And I thought you unlocked your powers because you ‘understood and accepted who you were’ now it’s about Mike?”

“It’s okay to be a sore loser, Lucas. Make sure to take notes for us in AP bio.” Will smirks and turns to Mike. “Let’s go.”

“You two are menaces. I’m telling Max about this!”

The appointment last two hours. It’s boring in the dentist office with nothing but magazines that are two years old and a shitty painting of a lighthouse. Will reads the one magazine that looks vaguely interesting and has pictures of Patrick Dempsey and Rob Lowe on the cover. Not bad.

Eventually, Will gets tired of ogling the same few pictures and does some homework. He gets a headstart on calculus and is surprised when Mrs. Wheeler gets called back to get Mike.

She gestures at him to come along and Will scrambles to put his things away and go see his friend. He’s very loopy and won’t really look at anyone. He seems to be lost in his own world, feeling the rubber of the blue chair and comparing it to his own skin.

“Is he okay?” Will asks hesitantly.

The hygienist smiles kindly. “They’re always like this. He’ll be really loopy for a few hours, so he shouldn’t be in any pain, but he’ll need some pain meds before bed.”

Mrs. Wheeler wrestles him up, and Mike is generally uncooperative, letting his long limbs hang loosely. Will ends up helping by grabbing him around the waist and putting one of his arms over his own shoulder.

“Dejavu!” Mike muffles out from between cotton balls.

It doesn’t make sense, and he and Mrs. Wheeler titter at the silliness of it.

Mike looks out the window like a dog, wide eyed and mouth open, as he takes in the passing buildings. He doesn’t say anything besides light surprised sounds, like he’s never seen the same buildings he’s driven past thousands of times.

When they arrive at their house, Mike cooperates a little more, just leans on his mom, so Will takes the keys and unlocks the door.

The stairs are a daunting task, but they decide that it’ll be easier in the long run, so Mike doesn’t have to relocate for bed.

Once Mike is settled in place, Mrs. Wheeler turns to him.

“Do you have everything you need?”

Mike, ice cream, comics. Yup.

“I think so.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay? He can be kind of a handful.”

Handful is an understatement.

“Trust me, I know. I’m pretty good at this point of getting Mike to do things while making him think it was his idea. This is nothing I can’t handle. I’ll call Hop if something is seriously wrong.”

She looks critically at him, but he isn’t lying. Nothing could possibly happen that the end of the world hasn’t prepared him for, so they’re fine.

“If you’re sure, then okay. Ice cream in the fridge. 10 dollars on the counter if you want some pizza. Warning, Mike might want some, but he’s not allowed to have any. He can have some Jell-o or a smoothie.”

“Did you get-”

“Mint chocolate chip. Mike made sure.” Of course he did. Will grins sheepishly. “Bye, honey. I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Karen?” she tries teasingly.

Will shakes his head slowly. “Not in a million years.”

She shrugs good-naturedly. “Bye, Will.”

The empty house is weird. Holly still at school. Ted at work. Once, the house was buzzing with energy, never quiet unless it was the middle of the night, and even then, there were nightmares and TV sounds from Ted falling asleep in his recliner.

Will goes up to Mike’s room, ready to read a comic until Mike becomes coherent enough to do something together. He halfway expected Mike to be able to at least do something embarrassing, but he’s being too calm. Kind of disappointing, but it’s better than him freaking out about the dentist visit.

Will opens the door and Mike snaps his eyes to him.

His mouth is stuffed with cotton and his speech is a little slurred, but some of his words come out clear enough to be understandable.

“Hey! Is good to see you!” Mike garbles out brightly.

Will smiles instinctively at the pleased sound Mike makes at seeing him. “You too, Mike.”

“What are you doing here??”

“I’m taking care of you. Like you asked,” he responds, hoping to jog his memory.

Mike rests his cheek against his shoulder lazily, like it’s too much effort to keep it up. “Awww you’re taking care of me??”

“Yeah. I do that sometimes,” Will smiles. He remembers all the times he’s pulled Mike back from things, gotten sick because he insisted on getting him soup, and consoled him after his campaigns didn’t pan out.

“I know. It’s good gri- gir- mmm yeah.” He gives up halfway through his sentence and just nods.

“What??”

“You cut your hair. It’s all-” he makes a sound and gestures lazily, but clearly, his arms are too heavy because they flop down onto the bed and he giggles.

His comment doesn’t make much sense, so Will tilts his head. “I didn’t cut my hair. I’m actually growing it out.”

Mike pouts. “No!!! I saw it. It was long. And now it’s short. Looks good.”

Will blushes at the compliment.

“Okay. Fine I cut it. Thank you.”

Mike pulls an arm above his head and shouts triumphantly, “Hah! I’m right!” Of course that’s what he’s concerned with. Even drugged out of his mind, he wants to be right. Sounds about Mike.

“Okay. Fine, Mike. You’re right.”

“Sure am,” he says smugly.

“Do you need some pain meds?” Will asks, just for something to say. He’s not sure what to help with, but clearly Mike isn’t coherent enough to play any games. He could run some experiments, but that would require a little more cooperation, so maybe he’ll grill him later.

“Nah,” he says loudly. “They got me on- groo- good shit. Don’t feel ani- anybri- a- nothing.”

“That’s good.”

Mike sighs and smiles dopily at Will, and he feels a little unnerved by it.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asks nervously.

“I missed you.”

Will blinks. “Missed me?”

“Yeah. You were- were so busy. So far. I missed you.”

It doesn’t make any sense. They’ve seen each other every day in school. They were talking just a few hours ago, in fact. Will is confused by the comments Mike is making, like he’s forgotten a lot.

“I haven’t been busy.”

“Yes, you have!” Mike exclaims, but he is quickly distracted by his sheets. He touches them, runs his hands on the smooth surface. “This is nice. Feels good.”

“Yeah?” Clearly, this medicine is hitting him hard.

“Mmmmyeah. I’m thirsty. Can you get me water?”

Will shakes his head, feeling like he’s getting whiplash at the changes. It’s like he’s taking care of Jonathan high in California.

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He gets up and walks to the door, feeling something off about their interactions.

Mike calls out. “Wait! El!”

Will stops dead in his tracks.

He continues like nothing is wrong. “El. No ice, ok? I don’ like it cold.”

Will’s feet are glued to the carpet. He’s not breathing. He can’t move. “W-What did you call me?”

“El. ‘S your name. No. You like Jane. Right?” Mike squints like he’s trying to remember something important.

He turns slowly. “You’re kidding. Please tell me you’re kidding,” he pleads.

"Jane! Jane! You're so pretty.”

Mike thinks he’s Jane…

Oh my god. Mike thinks I’m his girlfriend.

It’s like a giant universal joke. The universe is making fun of him. It’s not really funny, but… it’s actually extremely funny. Mike is confusing Will with his own girlfriend, and he’s calling him pretty. Well, that part is a little confusing, but the rest of it is very hilarious. Oh, he can’t wait to tell him this later.

A bit amused, Will smiles and scoffs disbelievingly.

Mike speaks again in a contemplating tone, “You look like Will today. More than normal. Isss nice. I like it. You should look like Will more often.”

The smile from Will’s face vanishes.

What the fuck???

“I- I look like Will??” he asks stiffly.

“Yeah. More’n normal. Iss good.”

He parrots the words with no inflection. “It’s good that I look like Will all the time?”

“Yeah!” Mike says. His eyes light up, and Will almost believes that he’s doing it on purpose before his head flops inelegantly to the side.

“Oh.”

Will can’t help the faces he’s making. He knows it’s something between horror, shock, and confusion, because that’s what he’s feeling, and he’s never been able to hide his facial expressions very well.

Mike is saying that it’s good that El looks like Will. No matter how many times he repeats that in his head, it doesn’t make more sense.

Why would it be good that his girlfriend looks like him?

This has to be some kind of Vecna trance, because who else would be fucked up enough to do this to him? Who would sense the fact that he was trying to move on from Mike, and make the boy he’s been head over heels for his entire life tease him like this?

Will is the butt of a big cosmic joke. He’s the unluckiest motherfucker on the planet, apparently. Not only does he nearly die multiple times, get captured by a psycho monster, and actually die twice, he also gets this shit.

Mike watches his face and looks dramatically upset with his big brown puppy eyes routine. “Don’t be sad. I don’ like sad. Sad bad.” He giggles suddenly. “Hehe sad bad. Bad sad. Rhymes.”

Overcome with a weird curiosity, Will can’t resist. He steps closer, walks up to Mike and sits at the edge of his bed. “So, why is it good that I look like Will?”

The boy widens his eyes as far as they go and speaks severely. “Don't tell him. Can't tell." 

“Tell him what?” Will leans in closer.

"I lo - I lo- ju- he. Nice," Mike stumbles over his words to the point that he’s unintelligible, and Will is a little annoyed that he can’t get clarification. He needs more ammo if he’s going to razz him about this later.

“What?”

"Shush.” Mike makes a shushing sound like Will is some wild animal he’s trying to tame. “I didn't- you look really pretty today, El. More than usual. Your eyelashes are nice.”

“Are they?” Will raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah. Fluttery. Flap flap. Butterfly.” Mike makes flapping motions with his hands, but he gets tired quickly and he flops them back onto the bed with a bounce.

They sit like that for a while, Will watching Mike roll his hand around like it’s too heavy, and slide his palms on everything to feel the texture. It’s kind of cute. Seeing him so vulnerable and open makes Will mushy on the inside.

“Are you still thirsty?” he asks when Mike coughs.

He exclaims like he’s just made a great discovery. “YEAH. Water!”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

Will doesn’t get to stand before Mike makes a sound and looks right at Will. “Mmmm gimme kiss?”

Kiss.

Kiss.

What?

Okay, no, that stuff before, that wasn’t the universe mocking him, this was it. This has to be the worst thing fate has ever done to him.

I’m a good person. I’m a good person. I’m a good person.

 “Uh. Um. No. I can’t-” he stutters through his nerves, because he never thought he’d have to be in a position where he would need to reject a kiss from Mike Wheeler.

If this is Vecna, it’s officially crossed over into ‘I’m going to skin you alive’ territory.

“Why not,” Mike whines. “I wanna kiss. Gimme kiss.” He squeezes his eyes shut and puckers up his lips and Will doesn’t really know what to do.

He can only make vague noises to stall while he thinks of something to respond. “Uh-”

“Will would give me a kiss,” Mike pouts. He sounds petulant, like a child crossing their arms and kicking the ground with their toe.

Ha. Ha.

“No. I don’t think he would.” Will considers it and tilts his head. “Well-”

“I want a kiss! Just a little one. No tongue.”

Will chokes on his spit. “Tongue…” he echoes softly.

“Well, a little tongue if you want.” Mike smirks as well as he can with his cottony mouth.

Will backs up and stands up to create some distance, like Mike would just grab him and plant one on him with no warning, despite the fact that he barely has control of his own head, let alone have enough coordination to get Will and kiss him.

“No! No! No! I- I actually uh- Dentist orders!”

“Hmmm wha?” Mike scrunches his face harshly.

“Dentist said no kissing for at least 2 days,” Will delivers seriously with a slow nod.

Mike whines loudly. “Oh nooo. But you look like Will today!!!”

“Stop saying that!” Will cries out, pressing his palms to his eyes.

“But-”

“No!” He points at Mike firmly. “I’m getting you water. No kissing. Water with no ice. I’ll be right back.”

Mike looks like a kicked puppy at the words, and it’s not fair, because Will should be the one pouting at not getting to kiss Mike.

“I-” He doesn’t know what would be an appropriate parting remark, so he simply turns and rushes downstairs for a water bottle.

He misses a step in his hurry to get down the stairs and trips a bit. He manages to hold onto the banister and not fall all the way down. Lucky thing, because he’d be stuck there with nobody except Mike for hours if he injured himself.

Mike…

Mike can honestly go to hell.

What the fuck? Why is he torturing Will like this? Dangling his first kiss with the only person he’s ever really wanted to have it with right in front of his face. It’s cruel. It’s indecent. It’s mean.

Will is stuck somewhere between crying and howling with laughter at the irony.

He gets a straw for the water and grabs one for himself too. He splashes his own face with some water from the sink to clear his head.

Mike is just confused. The medicine is making him say random shit, clearly. Will has handled worse.

I can do this.

He stalks up the stairs with new determination and opens the door to see Mike trying to take off his shirt. Its halfway off and the planes of his abdomen are visible and, fuck, shifting under the movement of his arms.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

The boy doesn’t hear him come in, so he keeps trying to fit his head through an arm hole, hitting himself with his own fist on his temple. He lets out a pained groan that, Will’s flustered mind is struggling with, because with his shirt half off, it doesn't exactly sound pained.

He’s a good person, but he never claimed to be a saint, so Will ogles for a few more seconds before barking out a panicked, “Mike! Get your shirt on!!”

Mike does not sense the urgency in Will’s- El’s- tone and makes a happy noise, muffled by the fabric of his striped short sleeve.

“El! You’re back,” he says through the shirt. His arms are back to floppy and he isn’t making any effort to change his predicament.

Will wants to scream. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to block out some of the visual input, though it doesn’t do much, because Mike keeps making small noises that he has to know are exaggerated and suggestive.

“Yeah. I’m back.” He swallows. “Do you need some help?”

Please say no. Please say no.

“Help me, please.”

Fuck.

“I’m coming.” Well… not as such.

Will is a good person. He’s a good person. This is his sister’s boyfriend, so he’s going to help him put his shirt down and he won’t touch any skin and he won’t indulge in anything, despite this being like something jerked straight out of his dreams.

Not jerked- Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay. Stay still.”

He leaves a step between them and grabs the hem. Mike doesn’t help at all. He wiggles. Maybe he’s trying to help, but all it does is make everything harder, and Will has to mutter annoyed phrases under his breath to keep from saying something mean.

After wriggling for the fourth time, Will drops his left hand to flatten on Mike’s side, right by his ribs, hoping to stabilize him.

The skin is warm and smooth. There are a few freckles between the spread of his fingers, a fact that Will doesn’t miss. His gaze lingers on the points that their skin is connected and he’s having trouble breathing again. The room feels two sizes too small.

“Mike…” he says uselessly. There’s nothing he needs to say. There’s nothing to add. He just feels like he needs to say his name, even if it’s done in a brittle voice that doesn’t carry very far.

The boy makes a small questioning sound, airy, sincere and Will- greedy, greedy Will- spreads his fingers further, savors the feeling of his own skin dragging on Mike’s.

He needs to stop.

This isn’t helping. He isn’t helping him put the shirt back on at all. He’s… groping.

No. Not groping, just touching. Touching is fine. Touching is okay. He isn’t reaching anywhere untoward. Groping has a sexual connotation. There is nothing sexual about a friendly touch on the ribs.

Feeling safe in his rationalization, he drags his hand further down Mike’s torso. His fingertips trail, barely grazing to his stomach, above the navel. There's a small amount of wispy hair below his bellybutton, and Will is sure that as long as he doesn't touch it, then this doesn't count. Will’s eyes might be the greediest thing of all. He’s watching, unblinking, like the image will disappear if he doesn’t commit it to memory.

He’s seen Mike in the locker room, in small glimpses of sleepovers, but he always looks away as soon as his brain catches up to what he’s looking at. He doesn’t allow himself to leer.

And through all of that avoidance, he hasn’t had a good mental image of what Mike looks like under his shirts, only guesses based on build and rainy days where his clothes cling to his lanky frame. The reality is jarring. He doesn’t have to wonder. He knows that Mike’s stomach is lean. It isn’t sculpted with abs, but it isn’t just skin and bones.

Mike’s arms aren’t moving anymore, he’s staying in place, though his stomach twitches, just once, and it’s not anything special, but it makes a sharp crack of arousal run through Will.

Will’s breath leaves him in sharp pants, and if he wasn’t going to hell before this, his actions and thoughts in the last 90 seconds have secured his spot down there.

Bad Byers.

Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad.

Will rips his hand back with a sharp inhale and firmly pulls Mike’s shirt down. He doesn’t try to work with him to do it, just grips it in a tight fist by the bottom hem until it slides back to normal and he turns his head to the side with, what he’s hoping is, a nonchalant sniff to hide his blush.

“There.”

Mike doesn’t really do anything besides look at Will like he’s performed some amazing magic trick. His hair is rumpled like he’s just woken up, and his eyes are still big and dilated under the effects of whatever they gave him.

With a barely-there touch, he walks Mike to his bed and makes sure he sits him up to drink his water. He’s dissociating, mostly. He doesn’t think about his hands or what they’re doing or Mike’s skin, and especially not the way Mike keeps staring at him.

Once he’s settled, he leans on his bed frame with small smile on his face. “Mmm pretty El.”

“Sure am,” he says flatly, a little annoyed now. It was funny before, now all it does is make Will feel guilty. He settles on the edge of Mike’s bed, close enough to the nightstand so he can help him put the bottle back later.

They sit in silence while Mike finishes his water. Will tries not to look at him too much. He stares at the walls, looks around at the posters, the drawings he’s made, pictures of their friends, the guitar in the corner that Mike swears he’s going to properly learn soon but always puts off.

By the time Will’s made a lap around the room, Mike is done, and he’s looking at Will while smiling faintly. His eyes are soft and glossy, and Will hates that his heart goes crazy at the sight. He tries reminding himself that his friend has no idea who he’s looking at, let alone how he’s looking at them, but his traitorous heart doesn’t get the memo. It beats harder all the same.

Maybe this isn’t so bad.

Mike starts to slip down in his bed until he’s horizontal again. Will chuckles a little at the slow movement but stands to help him to get his blanket where it’s supposed to be.

When Mike is all tucked in his bed, it’s obvious that he’s tired. That’s for the best. Will’s heart can’t take any more of this without causing serious strain on his heart.

The taller boy wiggles in his spot, then his eyes slip shut and his face sobers. All traces of his light-hearted nature are gone in an instant, and it puts Will on alert. He’s cycling through what to ask or what to do, because Mike’s been a giggly mess this entire time, and now he looks sad with no warning.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Will furrows his brows in confusion. Is he sobering up? Is he apologizing to Will now instead of El?

“For what?”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you.” Mike’s face crumples. His voice becomes desperate, like he’s pleading with Will to believe him. “I promise I tried. I really tried. I wanted to. I thought I did.”

“What?” he crackles out. 

“It’s my fault.”

“Mike-”

“I really tried. It’s just- he makes it so easy. I couldn’t help it.” His voice starts to waver as he talks, and Will is horrified because it sounds like Mike is about to start crying, and he has no idea what he’s talking about. Who makes what easy?

Will reaches his hand to rest on Mike’s arm and tries to be very clear in his words. “What are you talking about?”

“He doesn’t want me,” Mike sniffles. He continues like he didn’t hear Will. “Don’t blame him. I never told him and he’s gonna get some boyfriend in New York and- mmm it sucks.”

Will’s stomach drops.

“Are you talking about m- Will?”

Mike scrunches his face up with his eyes closed. “Well, I’m not talking about Lucas!”

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Please be clear,” he implores.

“‘m druggy. I got drugs. I can’t be clear.” Mike wiggles again in his spot, a little shimmy motion in place.

Will is going to kill him.

“Oh my god. Please, Mike.”

Mike opens his eyes and looks straight at Will. He stares. “You look… a lot like Will. You sound like him too. The way he says my name. It’s all breathy and soft, like…” He swallows hard and it seems like he’s trying to make his words clearer. “…like he loves me too.”

Will can’t speak. Words get caught in his throat as he tries to take in air that doesn’t make it to his lungs.

“Can I- Can I call you Will? Just for today.”

His mind is still reeling. He can’t say anything. No words come out, so he nods once in affirmation.

“I’m tired. ‘m gonna sleep. Goodnight, Will.” He reaches up with an unsteady hand and brushes the hair on Will’s forehead. “I- I love you.”

The words land like a punch to the gut. “Mi-Mike,” he utters, breathy and soft.

Mike hears his name and smiles lightly. “Just like that.”

He drops his hand and his eyes slip closed. He doesn’t move anymore.

Words he never thought he’d hear from Mike, said so simply and sincerely that they cut like glass. Words that he could barely say to his own girlfriend even when she was there, flesh and bone, dying, said to a version of Will that didn’t even exist.

There’s no way to stop it. Will cries. He lets the tears fall softly and doesn’t reach up to catch them, only lets his vision become blurry until he blinks and lets them fall over his cheeks.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there just staring at Mike sleeping through tears, and doesn’t think of anything except variations of, ‘Mike loves me.’

It doesn’t feel like the complete elation he had once thought it would. He had thought it would feel magical, like in the movies when the guy chases the girl to the airport gate and confesses and they kiss passionately in front of everyone. He thought it would feel like relief.

It doesn’t.

It feels like Mike has taken a knife to a scarring wound and reopened it, carving inside of Will for a space he knows is empty and reserved just for him.

Will goes downstairs at a snail’s pace and sits in the kitchen. His shoulders are numb. His hands are too.

He grabs the mint chocolate chip ice cream from the freezer and holds the pint in his hands. The cold doesn’t burn.

That’s how Mike finds him, with eyes still a little pink, clutching the now-melted ice cream, still unopened.

“Will?”

He nearly jumps out of his skin.

Mike’s voice is raspy. Will wonders how long it’s been. He wasn’t keeping track of time. He could say he was lost in thought, but that would be a lie. He hasn’t had a single complete thought since he came down; since Mike said- what he said.

Unlike usual, he doesn’t calm when he sees Mike. If anything, he gets even more panicked. His breathing picks up, his palms sweat, so he doesn’t stand up or turn around.

Mike is still squinting, so he doesn’t notice. He groans, “This shit is killing me. Can I have some pain meds?”

Will nods and sniffles. “Yeah. Let me get them.”

He stands hastily, making a screeching sound with his chair, and turns to the counter, avoiding eye contact. He gets to it, and freezes.

It’s an involuntary freeze. A deer in headlights. A joint-locking stop.

Mike speaks up behind him. “Are you okay?”

The voice breaks Will out of his paralysis. He lets out a laugh that sounds hollow in his ears. “Me? You’re the one with the missing bones.”

There’s a tense silence that speaks volumes.

“Will.”

It’s that tone that means he’s not letting something go.

Will closes his eyes briefly and braces for the oncoming conversation. “Yeah?” he asks, then turns around to face Mike with what he’s hoping is a half-convincing smile.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m fine!”

“Will…” Mike says, drawing out his name.

“I am fine,” he reasserts with a nod.

Then something terrible happens. Mike stares back at Will and his face draws into a crumpled expression; betrayed. Will wants to slam his head against the nearest wall. It’s one thing for Mike to use his puppy dog eyes on purpose, but it’s absolutely unfair for him to do it without meaning to. His sad eyes are enough to make Will confess to a crime he didn’t commit.

Will takes in his pout and sighs. “Nothing you can fix, Mike.”

“So, it is something.”

“No, not really.”

Mike raises an eyebrow, catching onto the small admission. “Not really?”

He winces. “It’s-”

“Tell me,” he demands petulantly.

Will takes a deep breath, then allows himself a beat to gather his own thoughts and choose his words very precisely. “It’s not your fault. You were all high on pain meds. You didn’t mean anything by it.”

It hurts to say it out loud. He’d been sitting here in the kitchen for, what seems like, the better part of an hour and the only conclusion he’d gotten out of it was that it was the drugs. It makes sense. A painful, realistic, amount of sense.

“Did I say something awful to you? I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean it. I was totally out of my mind. I don’t remember any of it. Not that it’s any excuse, but I swear I didn’t.”

Will’s heart cracks a little more.

‘I swear I didn’t mean it.’ Yeah, that’s exactly what Will has been dreading. But it’s good. It’s what he needs to hear. It’s what he needs to move on from this shit day and leave it behind along with any stupid notions of Mike feeling anything but friendship towards him.

“Yeah, I know,” Will says, and tries very hard to smile in a way that doesn’t look like a grimace. “That’s fine. I know you didn’t mean any of it. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s the worst thing he could’ve said. It hits the exact part of Will that he wishes he could keep hidden away and under a thick blanket: Hope. Mike said the one thing that has the power to make it all so much worse, and he doesn’t even remember saying it.

It hurts in that precise way that only Mike has ever been able to achieve.

It’s all Will’s fault, really. He gave Mike the power. He placed part of himself, his own heart, his hope, his faith, and didn’t ask him to be careful with it. How is Mike supposed to know he crushes it in his fist when he doesn’t even know it’s there?

“What- what did I say?”

You told me you loved me.

“You said a lot of things. Some of them were funny,” he lets out a tiny amused huff and leans back onto the counter. “You, um, thought I was Jane for a bit.”

You told me you loved me.

Mike’s eyes widen in horror. “What.”

The expression makes a real smile bloom on Will’s face. “Yeah. You said my eyelashes were fluttery. ‘Like a butterfly. Flap flap.’”

“Oh my god,” he moans in dismay, then sinks into the nearest chair with hands over his face.

Will laughs lightly. This, he can do.

“Is that the most embarrassing part?” Mike asks while opening up his fingers to peek at Will.

You told me you loved me.

“…no.”

“Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not,” he smirks.

Mike sits up for a second and it weighs on Will. The fact that Mike is going to keep going without knowing how devastating his blow was. He doesn’t know how much the words punctured him; won’t know.

You told me you loved me.

Will isn’t going to say it.

“You told me you loved me.”

He surprises himself by saying it and slaps a hand over his mouth as soon as the words are out. The words slipped out so quickly that Will didn’t have time to rein them in or bite them off.

Mike freezes and flicks his eyes up. Will goes pale.

“I-” It’s all he can get out, before cutting off his own voice. He has no idea what he’s supposed to say here. ‘Just kidding’ is not going to cut it this time.

“Did-”

“Forget I said that,” Will pleads, dropping his hand and turning around to avoid Mike’s shocked face. “Please, please forget.”

“How exactly do you suggest I do that?” Mike asks incredulously.

A small bubble of irritation pops in Will and he faces him once again. “You forgot the first time. Just do it again.”

Mike stares at him, eyes incredibly wide. He stands in one quick motion and Will flinches involuntarily.

“Will… are you serious?”

He wishes he were kidding. Well, he actually wishes he were across town, but he’d settle for kidding.

He nods.

Mike’s face does something complicated. Tiny eyebrow scrunches and lip twitches and eye movements. He searches Will’s face with his own lost expression, desperately, like he’s still hoping Will might say he’s kidding.

The steady crack in Will’s chest feels like a chasm, miles wide. His eyes sting, but he won’t allow himself to cry, not now in front of Mike. Not over this.

Ever the self-sacrificial idiot, Will finds it in himself to comfort Mike instead. His voice is grainy, a bit rough. “Don’t worry, I know you didn’t mean it. You said so yourself, you were out of it and nothing you said meant anything, so it’s okay.”

It’s his phrase of the evening. ‘It’s okay.’ Everything is okay. It’s all fine. Nothing is wrong.

Mike tilts his head. “Wait-”

“Really, it’s fine,” he interrupts.

Mike takes two large steps forward, and Will backs up further into the counter, despite being fully against it already, and digging the wood into his lower back.

“Will.”

“Mike,” he says, brokenly. “Please. I can’t hear it again. I don’t want to hear you say that you didn’t mean it and you have a girlfriend and that it was just stupid rambling. I know. You know. Just drop it.”

The sentence stops Mike in his tracks. He looks into Will’s eyes for long enough that it almost feels like he’ll listen for once. His eyes drop to Will’s lips for several, agonizing seconds.

“Tell me,” he says softly. “All of it. Tell me what I said.”

Will’s lips twist. “I can’t.”

“They were my words. I deserve to know what I said.”

It’s fair. It’s very fair. That doesn’t mean that Will likes it. He wants to storm out and leave Mike standing here just to avoid it a little bit longer. Instead, the words slip out of his mouth, almost without his permission.

“You called me pretty. You called me El and said that I looked prettier today because I looked like Will. You asked me to kiss you and told me you didn’t love her and that you loved me.” His jaw ticks when he’s finished, an irritated motion.

The only word for how he looks is trapped.

Mike’s chest is heaving, like he’s going to start hyperventilating any second. He runs a hand through his hair desperately and then taps his fingers incessantly against his own thigh. He doesn’t say a word, only works his mouth then clamps it shut.

Will furrows his own brows, and keeps looking at Mike, confused by the reaction. For all of his odd behavior, Mike doesn’t stop looking at Will. He stares straight at him, eyes darting from his eyes to his mouth and everywhere in between.

After what feels like hours, Mike finally looks away from Will. “Will. I’m sorry.”

Will hisses an inhale. “I just said-”

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he clarifies. “I’m sorry that… I was so much of a coward that the only time that I could be honest with you was high on pain meds.”

Will stops breathing. He can’t possibly mean… “You-”

“Yes.”

“You-”

“Yes.”

“But you-”

“Yes! Will. Please. It’s okay if you- if that isn’t- you know. It’s fine if that’s not something you ever wanted to hear. It’s fine if you don’t- I’m sorry.”

Tears gather in Will’s eyes. “God, Mike,” he chokes out.

“I’m-”

“If you apologize one more time I will walk out of this house. I will walk out and not come back.”

Mike’s eyes widen. “Sor-”

Will gives him a glare.

“Shutting up,” he rushes out.

Fuck.

Will tries to get the words to make sense, but they aren’t computing. They’re written in a language he doesn’t think exists. He looks, unblinking, at the wall. He sees the phone, over a year old now, and gets this weird impulse to call someone. Jonathan? His mom? Max? The Hawkins post? He has no idea, but somebody.

Maybe not the last one. ‘Breaking: Local Gay Boy Suffers Crisis.’

At least it’s snappy.

“I need to- I need to think,” Will says blankly to the wall.

Mike hums. “Thinking is good. I thought you might walk out immediately. Deliberation is nice.”

“Yes. Yes.”

Okay. Rewinding. Mike was being honest. He said it was honesty. It was real. Mike said he loved Will and called him pretty and it wasn’t a joke or nonsense. It was real. He says the words to himself in as many configurations as he can, but none of them make any more sense than the last.

Will still can’t feel his hands. They stopped being numb from the cold a while ago. They’re cold for an entirely different reason. He presses his hands to the edge of the counter and uses them to stop his knees from buckling. He knocks his head back to look at the ceiling, hoping that looking anywhere except Mike’s face will help his heart from beating so oddly.

From a few feet away, Mike clears his throat awkwardly, and Will tries to ignore it, but the reminder that Mike is right there…

“It’s like elevator music up here,” Will admits with a sigh. “I can’t think about anything. Lights are on but no one’s home.”

He doesn’t move, only closes his eyes, and tries harder to simply think.

Mike huffs a long sound that stutters in the middle. “Can you tell me where my meds are while you deliberate my big embarrassing feelings for you?”

“They’re behind the coffee machine,” Will waves distractedly.

There’s a small shuffle of movement, where Mike moves closer to Will to get to the coffee machine, and despite his body tensing, he doesn’t move away. Progress.

He can almost feel the warmth of Mike from how close he is. Will wants to lean into it and knock their elbows together, but it feels different now. This situation has made that an impossible thing to do. It means something different now. Context is everything.

The click of the pill bottle opening rings very close to Will’s ears. “Thanks. How many?”

Will snaps his eyes open and turns to Mike in disbelief, “One. Are you crazy?”

“My bad! Didn’t know if they were like Advil or aspirin or something.”

“They’re post-surgery meds. No, they’re not aspirin,” Will snaps. “Now be quiet, I can’t think.”

“Nothing new about that,” he quips with a smirk.

“Michael.”

Mike smacks his lips together and deadpans, “Shutting up again.” He goes to the sink and fills a glass to take the pill.

He’s still a bit of a baby when it comes to taking pills. He almost choked on one when he was 13 and now he takes each one with a full glass of water. Will takes them dry. He hasn’t choked yet. Still, whenever he gives Mike pills, he offers him a full glass. Sentimental nonsense.

The thoughts are still swirling around. They’re barely making sense now that he’s thought them so many times. ‘Mike’ is barely sounding like a proper word anymore. ‘Feelings’ even less.

What does ‘big, embarrassing feelings’ even mean, anyway? What kind of feelings? He said love, but what kind of love? Is it the same as Will’s? The one that makes talking in full sentences difficult when Mike pushes his hair back a certain way or makes him sketch out his hands in all kinds of positions, or makes him picture Mike’s face while he tries to sleep and imagine all the ways he’d say those very same words? He has to admit, this wasn’t one of the ways he imagined it would happen.

There are several things unanswered, so Will tries to separate some threads from the big yarn ball. The one that shakes free first is the one that feels the most important: whether Mike is like him. Gay.

He almost doesn’t want to break the silence.

There’s not a great way to ask this. He’s never had to before. He’s never had the guts to ask someone to their face, mostly out of fear of being beaten to a pulp for the sheer disrespect.

“So, you like guys?” Will asks slowly, hoping Mike wouldn’t take offense.

“I like you,” he says simply.

The response makes Will’s eye twitch. “Mhm. Mhm,” he says while looking wide-eyed at the floor.

Cool.

Cool.

Cool.

There’s a dust bunny in the corner of the room. A penny next to it. The Wheelers have got all kinds of stuff in their house. None of it is helping him.

Mike- hm.

Mike… likes guys.

No. Mike likes Will.

The urge to laugh hysterically gets stronger every second that passes.

“Not to rush you on your thinking, but you’ve probably got half an hour before I start to get all, you know.” He makes a circle gesture by his temple.

Actually, Will might be the one going crazy right now.

Buzzing with a anxious energy, Will starts to ramble. His mouth gets a workout from talking as fast as he is. It all pours out with zero filter, just brain to mouth.

“Half an hour is a long time. You could do a lot in half an hour. Read a short book. Take a bath. Change a tire. Jerk off twice, if you’re easy. Game of chess. Eat a pint of ice cream. So, how long have you…felt…”

Mike looks at him with eyebrows up to his hairline. He’s used to being the motormouth, so a babbling Will is unfamiliar territory. “Too long,” he responds with lingering shock. “Long enough that I don’t want to say in fear that you’ll be mad I didn’t tell you.”

“Oh god. I think I’m gonna be sick.” Will covers his mouth with one hand and presses the other to his stomach. He feels like the ice cream he didn’t eat is going to come up to make an appearance.

No. Not possible. It’s not possible that Mike has been harboring secret feelings for so long that he was worried about Will’s reaction. Not when Will has cried about Mike’s lack of them so many times. Not when Will has grieved over Mike not feeling the same, only to catch himself in the same cycle again and again. No. No. No.  

Mike lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Sounds about right. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna do anything. To you, I mean. I’m not going to jump you or- you know. I’ll… get over it. I guess.”

The confusing words stop Will’s spiral.

He leans his head forward. “What?”

“Just because you like guys doesn’t mean anything. I know that. You don’t-”

Wait. What?

“Hold on. Are you under the impression that I don’t have feelings for you??”

Mike gives Will the most exaggerated, confused face he thinks he’s ever seen, and gives a stupid little, “Huh?”

Oh, god. I’m in love with an idiot.

“Mike,” he says flatly.

Mike blinks quickly. “Huh… but you-”

“Are you an idiot?!”

“Why are you being mean to me? I’m in pain,” he says with a frown.

Will stops and laughs for the first time in hours. Pearls of giggly laughter that he can’t stop. His face feels warm, cheeks rosy and eyes bright. “You’re being ridiculous. Giant doofus,” he accuses with a big smile.

“I’m still lightly drugged.”

“You’re lightly stupid if you genuinely thought I don’t want-”

“I’m not stupid!” Mike argues. “I’m reasonable! Why would you ever-”

Will smiles teasingly and takes some steps towards Mike, slowly pushing his body off the counter. When he makes it closer, he tilts his head up towards him. “Careful, Wheeler, you sound like you’re fishing for a compliment.”

Mike’s face gets a bit pink, still screwed up on argument. “I’m not!”

“That’s the only way I can believe what you’re saying to me! I don’t believe that you actually didn’t know this entire time!”

“Know what?!”

“That I’ve been head over heels for you since we were kids!” he exclaims. “I- I can barely remember a time when I didn’t know that the way I felt about you was different from everyone else.”

Mike doesn’t respond. He watches with wide eyes and despite his mouth being open, nothing comes out.

It’s freeing, in a way, to let it out like this. He wanted to say these words so badly back then, when he was coming out. He wanted to say them even worse when they were climbing that stupid tower. They were right there, bubbling and pushing against his teeth, but he kept them in, sure that if he just kept didn’t say it, he could get over it all and pretend it never happened. He could throw a big sheet over it, until it died, then it would never see the light of day.

But looking at the way Mike’s hair has grown and curls against his nape, the small scars from that retched day, and the way the warmth in his eyes continues to grow, and Will’s own feelings seem to grow more and more every day, it’s just not possible to keep it in.

“Mike, I’ve been in love with you since… forever. And I was okay with the fact that you didn’t feel that way. I accepted it. I knew you weren’t like that, like me, and now-”

“Wait,” Mike interrupts. “When you told everyone about how you’re-”

“Yeah?” Will cuts him off just to avoid Mike using any words that might bring up bad memories.

“Were you… talking about me?” He asks hesitantly, like he’s scared to even say the words out loud.

Will bites lips. “Do you really have to ask?”

“I-” he cuts himself off and darts his gaze between Will’s eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Mike.”

The word seems to break Mike. His face softens impossibly. In two steps, he’s able to reach out and wrap his arms around Will. He squeezes hard enough that Will lets out a tiny noise as the air is pushed out of him, but he can’t complain. He wouldn’t trade this feeling for the world.

Mike tucks his face into Will’s shoulder and lets out a sound that’s between a sigh and a laugh, but it sounds wet, like Mike might be wanting to cry. That’s twice in one day. Must be a new record.

Will gives his own broken sound, full of relief, painful at the joints. It’s the feeling of carrying something so heavy that your knuckles lock in place, and when you finally let the weight go, you have to move your fingers with the other hand just to get them to move.

Will has to force himself to touch Mike even though it’s all he wants. He fights with his instinct to keep his hands away and instead lets himself have this. He grabs a fistful of Mike’s dark curls and tucks his face into his shoulder, almost shuddering.

The stinging feeling comes back to his eyes, but for a good reason now, a much better reason.

There’s no telling how long they stood there, clutching shirts, running their hands through each other’s hair, and breathing shaky breaths into each other’s skin.

Despite not having his fill, Will remembers the whole reason they were here in the first place and forces himself to pull back enough to speak in a thin voice. “You’ve been talking too much. It probably hurts.”

Mike rests his chin on Will’s head and shrugs. “I feel great right now.” He tilts his head down and touches the top of Will’s head with his nose, and Will’s heart races at the thought of Mike kissing his head. “Do you have a pamphlet or something about instructions for me? What to avoid?”

The subject change throws Will, but he remembers the thick packet Mrs. Wheeler left on Mike’s nightstand.

“Um. Yeah. Why?”

“Does it say anything about kissing?”

Will’s heart stops. “Mike!” He untangles himself from the taller boy to stare at him with a slack jaw.

Mike lets him go easily and leans back to look smugly down at Will, then raises his left eyebrow in question.

Will’s palms sweat. He racks his brain to remember all of the information in the packet. He’s a good student. He’s good at memorizing. So, he recalls the bottom of the second page.

“It- uh- it says light kissing, a quick peck is fine, but anything more needs to wait a few days,” he manages to squeak out.

Mike, the asshole, looks down to his lips, and Will feels faint. He might pass out. Mike wants to-

“Okay,” he responds easily.

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll wait.”

Will’s face is bright red, and his voice strangled. “W- Wait…”

“When I get to kiss you, I’ll need to be all better,” Mike says in a deep rumble.

Jesus Christ. “Mike… I’m-”

“You’re blushing so I assume the idea is appealing.”

Without any more comment, Will turns his back on Mike, both to hide his flush and help himself be a bit more coherent. “I take it back. I take it all back. I don’t like you anymore. You’re my Tammy.”

Mike lets out a sharp cackle. “No take backs, sorcerer.”

“Yes, I take it back. I don’t like you anymore,” Will says, crossing his arms sternly.

“Well, I remember hearing the words, ‘in love with you,’ but I might be reaching.” His voice comes out teasing and playful.

Will holds up a hand to silence him. “Okay. Shut up. Shut up now. Don’t speak to me. I don’t want to hear you anymore.”

A squeak comes from the floorboards as Mike takes a big step towards Will. “Too bad,” he says, close to Will’s ear now. “I was going to say I love you too. But I guess you don’t want to hear it.”

“You already said it, remember?”

“Damn it. No, I don’t. That’s the problem!” Mike exclaims frustratedly.

“Whatever. Still counts.”

Mike huffs an annoyed breath, and Will almost turns to see if he’s actually upset but is cut off from any action by a pair of hands at his waist, firmly holding it, nearly touching fingertips.

The touch makes him gasp and jolt.

“Easy,” Mike murmurs against his ear.

Oh no. Will is going to dissolve. The hot air against the shell of his ear, the feeling of large hands branding his skin, it’s too much. He doesn’t know whether to melt against Mike’s body mere inches away or become even more rigid in his grasp.

The instinct to relax when he’s around Mike wins out, and his body, without really thinking, softens against the touch. He’s pink all the way down to his chest, he knows, but only from being thoroughly flustered. Any of his embarrassment is gone now. His eyelashes flutter shut, and Mike gives his waist an appreciative squeeze. Will’s whole body shudders.

“You’re so responsive,” Mike says with a wondrous tone.

Will doesn’t answer, only scrunches his eyebrows together and breathes out a stuttering sound.  

“Hey,” Mike prompts.

Will hums a sound in response.

“You alright?”

Alright? Will skipped cloud nine; he’s on cloud ten. He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, but he must have because he’s not seeing anything anymore. Just little sparks behind his eyelids.

“Will. I need words.”

“M’good,” he slurs out.

Mike gives him one more squeeze then nudges his shoulder to turn him. When they’re face to face, Will opens his eyes to Mike, pupils blown and teeth biting at his pouty bottom lip. Will looks at it. He wants to bite it.

“I’m starting to feel it. I don’t have long before I need to pass out again.”

Will nods and blinks to clear his mind a little. “Let’s get you to bed then.”

The walk up the stairs is quiet but charged with something full of promise. They turn to look at each other often, and by the third time, decide together to hold each other’s hands. With the recent context, it seems a bit like Mike is leading Will upstairs to his bedroom.

Well, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

But it feels different now!

Context!

Mike is pliant and his blinks are getting longer by the time they get him tucked in bed. He wrestles a lazy hand out of his sheets and reaches for one of Will’s hands. Will, amused by the sluggish movements, makes it easy for him, and watches him, curious about what was so important that he needed to ruin the cozy position.

With Will’s hand secure in his grasp, Mike leans up then brings their hands towards his mouth and presses a gentle kiss to the back of Will’s hand. His lips are delicate as they touch Will’s skin. It lights a brand new fire in him, especially when Mike flicks his pretty brown eyes up to Will, like he’s checking if it’s okay.

Will feels like a medieval lady about to fan herself to avoid swooning. It’s made worse when Mike says,

“Goodnight, my cleric.”

It’s hard to swallow, but he manages to clear his throat and respond with a gravelly voice.

“Goodnight, my paladin.”

Mike smiles and leans back into his pillow. He’s asleep in seconds.

Will’s heart pounds uncomfortably loud in his own chest.

He has to find that packet and re-read the part about how many days exactly is a few.