Archive of Our Own

June 1989

⊹₊ ⟡───────⟡˚₊‧☀︎‧₊˚⟡───────⟡ ₊⊹

Will Byers, all things considered, knew everything there was to know about Mike Wheeler. It came naturally with the whole "best friends since kindergarten that discovered a different dimension and spent their formative years fighting an evil wizard with psychic powers" shtick they had going on. The year and a half they spent living together also helped, probably. There was very little they didn't know about one another, from the sound of their screams due to relentless nightmares to how each other's lip taste. It was safe to say that they understood each other in a way that very few people, if any at all, could come close to.

That being said, Michael Wheeler could be so hard to read that it left Will feeling like he'd been hit by a Confusion spell. One moment, Mike would give him such gentle care and attention it made his heart swoon only for Mike to immediately turn around with a detached coldness that gave Will whiplash. It was unbearable at times—their fight that one summer before California and at the Rink-o-mania came to mind—but without the weight of the world on their shoulders, Mike's pendulum swing of emotions wasn't as intense as they used to be.

Once they collected themselves and headed back inside, Will laid down on the foam mattress next to Mike with the expectation that Mike would swing to the other extreme; by morning he'd act like he hadn't spent the better part of an hour making out with Will, much less that it was his idea in the first place. Will already resigned himself to this fate before his head hit the pillow and they settled under the blankets. It'd sting but Will had enough experience to know he'd be okay.

Maybe Will was stupid for saying yes when he knew the outcome already like a bad horror movie. Maybe he was stupid for letting Mike kiss him when he wasn't entirely over Mike (and probably never would be, if he were totally honest). Maybe he was stupid for telling himself that this wouldn't change anything between them, that they would wake up in the morning, act like nothing happened, and allow the kisses to fade into obscure memories that Will could call on the first time he gets to kiss a boy that actually liked him.

Of course, leave it to Michael Wheeler to be unpredictable, if not erratic.

⊹₊ ⟡───────────────────⟡ ₊⊹

It started, much like the first time, in the basement of the Wheeler house.

⊹₊ ⟡───────────────────⟡ ₊⊹

Will was in the space between sleep and lucidity, where his eyes remained closed and he could either slip back under into dreamland or let his mind come fully into consciousness. It felt early, far too early for any of the other party members to be awake, so Will decided that it would be okay to just float in the middle and enjoy the quiet of a sleepy morning. Besides, he was pleasantly warm under the blankets, too comfortable to bother with moving yet.

The pillow under Will's head was more solid than the one he fell asleep on and curled around him with it's hand loose on his hip. Wait. Not a pillow. A shoulder, probably. Most likely Mike's. Will curled in tighter, searching out the warmth, and felt the heat of Mike's side pressed against his front. His arms were folded, hands gripped loosely onto Mike's shirt like they were keeping him close.

He should've put more space between them, should've felt more embarrassed about clinging onto Mike like that in his sleep, but Will wasn't awake enough to feel guilty. There would be plenty of time for that later, when the rest of the world was awake. For now, he wanted to enjoy the moment while he still could and not think about the way Mike's arm felt almost possessive wrapped around him, keeping him close just as much as Will was.

Time slipped away from Will, he wasn't sure how long had passed in the fuzzy warmth of being half asleep, but the world started coming into focus when he felt a gentle press against his forehead.

Will peaked an eye open, "W'sat for?"

"A two for one," Mike murmured.

He hummed and looked up at Mike, both eyes squinted against the morning light. Mike's eyes were still closed but his face was angled towards Will's. From this close up Will noticed the faint sunburn dusted across the bridge of Mike's nose from when he'd forgotten to put on sunscreen the week before, his freckles prominent against the redness. Will's chest ached; he was as handsome as ever.

"Forehead kiss and good morning kiss," Mike continued.

Inside his chest, Will's heart stumbled. It was easy to chalk up last night to a brazen curiosity prompted by loosened inhibitions thanks to the beer. Will wasn't naive, he knew they weren't drunk by any means and he couldn't rely on that as a means to explain Mike's behavior, but he was fully expecting Mike to shrug the whole thing off.

Yet, with a softness that was new to Will, with traces of last night's foolhardiness, Mike already cracked Will's expectations to pull the pieces apart.

"How'd you even know I was awake?" Will mumbled.

"I guess I just know you that well," Mike said.

And Will knew all the things that he should've done, had a laundry list of them in the back of his mind. He knew that he should've played it safe: protect himself, protect their friendship. Maybe it was dangerous or selfish or stupid. In the end, it didn't matter. It never mattered when it came to Mike and Will. If one stepped into the unknown, the other followed without question.

He couldn't reach Mike's forehead without untangling himself entirely, and Will wasn't privy to leaving the warmth of Mike's side quite yet. He leaned up to return the kiss but fell short and it landed on the bridge of Mike's nose instead of his forehead.

Will relaxed back into the blankets and Mike's arm, his head on Mike's bicep.

Will was truthfully unbothered, it was close enough, but his bottom lip jutted out in a mock pout and he teasingly said, "Aw, I missed."

Mike's nose scrunched up but Will didn't miss the small smile he was trying to fight back. His eyes fluttered open and when their gazes met, they dissolved into small, airy giggles. Will felt ridiculous for overthinking.

Dangerous, selfish, or stupid. It didn't matter.

"I guess you just need a little more practice," Mike said, the corners of his mouth turned up in a small smirk.

Mike stepped into the unknown with a kiss, so it was only natural that Will followed him there.

⊹₊ ⟡───────────────────⟡ ₊⊹

As the rest of the basement slowly woke, Will and Mike drifted apart on the mattress. Mike didn't mention anything of the time they spent outside the night before, he went on about the day as though nothing had happened. Everything was normal. Aside from the few moments Will would catch his eye or find Mike already watching him and he'd give Will the smallest smile before turning his attention else where.

Nobody else noticed it. It was meant for Will and Will alone.

⊹₊ ⟡───────────────────⟡ ₊⊹

In the time after Vecna, Will didn't spend much time at home.

Home, which was formerly Hopper's cabin, wasn't suited for trying to house a family of five, which was obvious to everyone back during his freshman year and why the Byers part of the family lived with the Wheelers for so long. It was better now that Jonathan was away at college but still felt cramped with El and Will sharing the only bedroom and Joyce and Hopper using a corner of the living room as their makeshift bedroom. At best it was a struggle to move around around one another, at worst Will found it suffocating and needed to get away before he snapped.

Joyce and Hopper thought that buying a new house was unnecessary when Jonathan and Will would be off at college in under two years and neither one had a real reason, nor desire, to stay in Hawkins. Instead, they decided to put the hush money they'd been given towards the boy's college funds and the best tutor in the area for El. She was smart as a whip and caught on quick but would be finishing high school a year behind the rest of the party, in Montauk, where their mom and Hopper had their hearts set on moving at the end of the summer.

So, for now, Will tolerated having to live over top one another for the next two and a months. Which entailed spending as much time as he could, elsewhere.

With the repairs to Mike's house streamlined thanks to the hush money, the Wheeler house became a second home to Will for the second time.

That is to say, since the take down of Vecna and the Upside Down, it wasn't unusual for Will to linger behind after the party's hangouts, especially during the summer. He'd say bye to everyone, passing off a message for El to give their mom that he'd be staying at Mike's for the night. If El wasn't there he'd always call to tell his mom, then end up talking with her on the phone for a solid fifteen minutes before he managed to say goodnight.

She wasn't as overbearing anymore, although Will knew she still worried about him a lot despite his reassurances.

At the start, most often Will slept in the basement, on that same roll out mattress, simply because neither he nor Mike felt like lugging it back and forth two flights of stairs for the various sleepovers. It was easier to keep it downstairs and Will didn't mind the quiet or solitude all that much.

Sometimes, when it was just him and Mike, they'd go up to Mike's room and Will would sketch while Mike scribbled prose in a notebook, or they'd read together with Mike's cassette player being the only sound between them. There were a couple of instances when Will managed to persuade Jonathan into giving him a joint or two and they'd climb out Mike's window onto the roof of the garage to smoke.

Alone together, summer evenings were lazy and Will accidentally fell asleep on Mike's bed more times than he could count. Mike never seemed bothered by it because Will would always wake up next to him grumbling about Will stealing all the blankets and threaten to exile him to the basement next time that he never followed through on.

⊹₊ ⟡───────────────────⟡ ₊⊹

Will reread the same line he'd been struggling through for the past five minutes and still retained none of it. He wasn't going to be able to focus on anything at this rate. Not like it mattered much since he'd already read The Long Walk twice before.

It was hard to focus when Mike had finally returned from his shower, after letting Will go before him, skin flushed and warm, hair still damp.

Mike walked over to his desk, flipped the mixtape in his cassette player that Will had been too lazy to get up and change once it finished. As a guitar rift and drums faded in, Mike grabbed his notebook and pen from his desk before he crawled onto the bed in front of Will. There used to be enough room for the both of them to fit when they were younger, but Mike had grown since then. A lot. It was kind of hard for Will to ignore; Mike had obviously shot up in height, still skinny and angular but started to fill out and broaden in recent months.

Needless to say, it was hard to share the bed without touching in some way. Mike never had an issue with invading Will's personal space and with time, Will stopped worrying about taking up too much space. There was no more overthinking and over analyzing every move he made or way he sat to ensure that he didn't make Mike uncomfortable. And after last week, personal space between them no longer existed.

It felt natural, even, to wordlessly adjust when Mike plopped down onto his stomach, pillow tucked under his chest and notebook open on the mattress underneath him. Back against the wall, knees bent upwards to support the book in his lap, Will wordlessly adjusted accordingly; book now in his hands, he shifted to tuck one leg under himself and extended his leg across Mike's lower back.

Will heard Mike grunt from the head of the bed as though Will's leg was the weight of a cinder block. Just for that, Will wiggled his foot until Mike's shirt rode up just enough for him to worm his toes underneath in search of the warm skin.

Mike squawked, back arched to try to put space between them but he didn't go anywhere, "Jesus, your feet are like ice—what the fuck—Will!"

Laughing, Will continued to bury his foot under Mike's shirt while he squirmed. His book lay forgotten next to him, closed shut without a bookmark to mark where he had left off.

"Have you never heard of socks?" Mike continued, rolled over onto his side, notebook and pen knocked to the floor, abandoned, "Why are your feet so cold?"

Mike's fingers wrapped completely around Will's ankle, stilling him. In the scuffle, Mike's shirt rode up further, exposed his abdomen and the jut of his hip bones. Will's toes were a brush away from the soft skin just below Mike's belly button. It was too tempting and Mike was too irritatingly attractive. Will needed to distract himself from the sliver of exposed skin before he did something stupid.

Will bit the inside of his cheek to school his face into a more serious expression and pressed his toes against Mike's abdomen.

"He likes it cold," Will muttered as flatly as he could manage while trying to suppress his laughter.

Mike's face—namely his eyebrows—went through a range of emotions in quick succession.

"What is wrong with you?"

Will doubled over with laughter as Mike watched him with a stupefied look. The hand on Will's ankle tightened.

"What is wrong with you? That wasn't funny," Mike groused.

"You should've seen your face," Will breathed through his subsiding laughter.

"Yeah, real funny. You should totally become a comedian," Mike said sarcastically but there was no real heat behind it.

While Will wiped the tears from his eyes, his laughter petering out, he mumbled, "Maybe I will."

Mike propped himself up on his elbow and brought Will's foot closer, using both hands to squeeze it methodically from the heel to the toes. Confused at first, Will watched Mike repeat the motions twice before he realized that Mike was trying to warm his feet up.

Despite his grumbling, Mike still took care of him.

The drums faded out, dipping them into a momentary silence before the next song started and a more familiar melancholic synth kicked in. Will watched Mike in silence, eyes flickering between his foot in Mike's hand and Mike's face. When he motioned for Will's other foot, only after he deemed the first warm enough, Will easily pushed it into his waiting hands.

It'd been less than a week since Mike kissed him. Will did his best not to think about it, which would've been easier if his mind didn't have it on instant replay the second it wasn't preoccupied. All of his work over the past year and a half to get over from Mike was shattered in a single night. Much to his dismay, Will would be going off to college right back at square one, trying to move on again. Will reasoned it would be easier then, when they were busier and separated by dorms, no longer attached at the hip everyday. Maybe he'd meet someone more like him in one of his classes or around campus and wouldn't even need to worry anymore about scaring them off with his lack of experience.

Not that Will would tell them that his experience was only because his best friend offered himself up like a play-test dummy. Even now, feelings aside, Will knew that his and Mike's friendship was different than most. How could he get them to understand something that he lacked the words to explain? Even without the dead bodies and inter-dimensional wizards between them, Mike and Will's friendship was special in a way where words like 'platonic' and 'romantic' couldn't do it justice. 'Devoted' came close, 'trusting' was a given.

That's why Will let Mike have his first kiss—not because he loved him, but because Will trusted Mike wholeheartedly not to take it for granted.

In Mike's hands, Will felt safe enough to think of himself, of what he wanted.

From the speakers, Annie Lennox detailed exactly what Will wanted with her moody vocals, but in that moment one line stood out: I want to kiss like lovers do.

Before he talked himself out of it, Will spoke up, "Hey, Mike."

"Yeah?"

"About the… whole kissing thing."

Mike looked up at him, eyebrow raised, "What about it?"

Will faltered, apprehensive, and unable to phrase what he wanted to say. At Will's visible hesitation, Mike started to panic, his hands frozen mid-squeeze around the middle of Will's foot.

"Oh god, it wasn't terrible was it?"

"No, no, it was good. Great, even. I don't have anything to compare it to but you're a pretty good kisser."

Mike preened, Will ignored it.

"I just… I have some questions, I guess," Will continued.

Mike gave Will's foot one final squeeze and let it fall back against the bed. Will pulled it back to himself and brought both knees up to his chest, hands fidgeting with a frayed string of his sleep pants.

"Ask away," Mike said, "Remember—there's no judgment here."

"No judgment. Right," Will bit his bottom lip nervously.

Is it raining with you?

"How—" Will paused, words caught in his throat as his stomach twisted in knots. He swallowed thickly as if he could swallow the nerves down, then continued, "How do you kiss with tongue? I don't—I think that's the part I'm nervous about the most."

"Oh," Mike's brows shot up. Whatever he had been expecting wasn't that, apparently. The room suddenly felt hot and it wasn't just Will's embarrassment because he could've sworn that Mike's cheeks were turning pink. Did someone turn off the AC?

"Um. I can show you, if you want," Mike suggested.

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course. I said all types of kisses, didn't I?"

"Okay. Yeah, yeah, we can—you can show me," Will let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

The tension in his body dissipated, replaced by an acute giddiness that didn't quite drown out the nerves that untied and retied the knots in his stomach. Mike sat up and scooted down the bed until he was sat in front of Will.

"Oh, you meant right now?" Will asked.

"Sure, why not?" Mike paused with his hands on Will's knees, "Unless you don't want to."

"No—I mean—Now is fine. You aren't worried your parents or Holly aren't going to just barge in?"

"They're all asleep so they shouldn't bother us as long as we don't make any noise. But I'll lock the door, just in case," Mike said, already rolling off the bed. Within seconds he was halfway across the room and twisted the thumb-turn. The lock clicked in place.

Mike returned to the spot in front of Will, legs slightly outstretched on either side of Will's hips. He gently cupped the underneath of both of Will's knees and with with one powerful tug, Mike pulled Will into the empty space between his legs.

Will instinctively grabbed onto Mike's shoulders to steady himself at the sudden show of strength. Now with his legs draped over Mike's thighs and hips, their legs bracketing one another in, he felt Mike's body heat rolling off him and could smell the lingering scent of soap from his shower.

The movement elicited a flicker of arousal in Will's gut, abrupt and searing like sparks of electricity. Will took a deep breath in an attempt to quell the feeling. He didn't know how he was going to get through this without it ending in a very embarrassing predicament on his part; Mike hadn't even kissed him yet and Will was already at odds with his own body.

Will's brain struggled to keep up, still recovering from the display Mike made out of Will with his strength, that he barely noticed that Mike was speaking to him.

"Sorry, what did you say?" He asked.

He felt Mike's chuckle brush against his cheek more than he heard it. (When did his face get so close?)

"I said that we can start with normal kissing, no tongue. We can work our way from there, okay?"

Will nodded, "Okay."

Will was thankful he had the beer to calm himself the fist time Mike kissed him because when Mike cupped his cheek and closed the distance between them, Will felt as though he might vibrate out of his skin. How did he do this without choking on the nerves? How did he keep asking for more without shame?

When Will didn't mirror Mike's tilt of the head, his body rigid and tense, Mike sensed his apprehension and pulled away. His hand fell away from Will's cheek and found it's home on his knee instead. He squeezed it in reassurance.

"Relax, Will, it's just me," he said, voice low in that way that was only reserved for Will.

"I know, I know."

Mike brushed the hair out of Will's face, "Talk to me."

Will's heart fluttered under Mike's attentive care. Despite being taller, Mike leaned in to look up at Will, eyes big and round. Will always wondered how he managed to shrink himself down so they were on the same level when it was just the two of them.

"It's just nerves," Will said, "Um. Do you—Should I keep my hands here?"

He lightly squeezed Mike's shoulders for emphasis, like Mike might have forgotten where Will's hands on him were.

Mike shrugged easily, "If you want. You can touch me, too."

"What?" Will blinked at him, sure that there was no way Mike missed how red his face felt.

"You can touch me," Mike repeated, "To figure out what to do with your hands. Think of it like practice."

"Practice," Will parroted.

Despite the calm and reposed demeanor Mike held, Will recognized how Mike's sentences ran into one another and the restlessness in his hands, evident by the way his thumb casually stroked Will's knee. As confusing as it may be, it comforted Will to know that he wasn't the only one high-strung but found it endearing that Mike took a confident lead for his sake.

In hindsight, Mike only kissed one other person before Will, their experience more on par now. The nerves were entirely normal; Mike had them too.

"Yeah, practice," Mike swallowed, "No judgment. Remember?"

Reassured, Will nodded, "Only if you touch me too. I'll feel awkward if I'm the only one. I know it's probably different from touching a girl but you can just pretend, right?"

Under the warm light of Mike's bedside lamp, Will swore that Mike's cheeks were flushed. Mike cupped Will's cheek with both hands, his expression serious yet tender.

"Will, I'm—I'm not going to pretend you're a girl. I have no issues touching you as long as you're okay with it."

"Oh."

Mike's words stole the breath right out of Will's lungs. With words failing him, Will nodded until he managed to breathe out a small go-ahead.

Will's stomach came to life with butterflies as Mike's thumb brushed underneath his eye. If Will was a masochist he'd say the touch was adoring.

"Relax, we'll start slow, just like with the kissing," Mike said.

The space between them narrowed; Will felt Mike's breath against his lips, smelled the mint of his toothpaste. Will licked his lips and watched Mike's eyes flicker down at the movement. Closer and closer they drifted towards one another, heads tilting ever so slightly, until their noses brushed. Still, Mike didn't kiss him.

Hands moved from Will's cheek and enclosed around his wrists where he was still holding onto Mike's shoulder. The touch divulged how fast Will's heart raced; he felt it pounding under the callused pad of Mike's thumb.

"You don't have to keep your hands in one place. You can do whatever feels natural. Don't overthink it," Mike murmured.

Through half-lidded eyes, Will could only see the shape of Mike's lips and how they moved as he spoke. He wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them, to feel Mike's lips against his again. He no longer felt like a live wire of nervousness and anxiety. Years of wanting and waiting and aching so hard he felt hollow culminated into one word. He didn't know what it was before Mike kissed him, but Will felt it again now, gnawing at him from the inside. And this time he knew what to call it.

Hunger.

"Where do you like to—" Will whispered, voice trailing off when his lips brushed against Mike's with the faintest touch.

Mike swayed away, the half-kiss just barely aborted, and Will almost whined at the loss but the gentle touch of hands placated him enough to keep quiet. Mike's hands went from Will's wrists to back down his arms and further still: from his arms to his chest, and from his chest they finally found purchase on Will's waist.

"Here," Mike murmured.

His hands slowly traced the length of Will's sides, down to his hips. Will felt the warmth of his hands through his clothes, how it burned into his skin and into a memory he didn't want to forget. Mike's hands magnified the hunger in the pit of Will's stomach, unable to ignore it anymore.

Mike squeezed his hands, "Or here."

Another electrifying flicker flashed under Will's skin. Emboldened, Will slid a hand up to curl around the nape of Mike's neck and pulled him in until Will could finally slot their lips together.

Mike sighed into it, a small noise that Will felt more than heard, but one that paralleled the relief that washed over Will. The slow slide of their lips felt familiar and Will found that every press of Mike's lips against his kissed away his hesitancy and doubt. Mike's lips were warm, if slightly chapped, but they were heaven against Will's. He felt the erratic pounding of Mike's heartbeat under his palm as he slid it down to rest on Mike's chest, his thumb pressed against Mike's jugular notch.

True to his word, Mike kept it slow and simple, and Will was more than content to let him take the lead. Without the restraint of apprehension, the way Mike kissed him was better than he remembered with an ever growing confidence and ease that he kept languid and attentive.

How was Will supposed to kiss anybody else when Mike kissed him so sweetly? When Mike kissed him with so much patience that Will shook from the tenderness of it? How was Will supposed to stop loving Mike when the most alive he's felt in years was in Mike's hands, their breaths mingling, lips searching for one another? He would take whatever Mike offered him and if that made him a fool then he could make peace with that.

At least, then, he'd know what a semblance of love tasted like from the outside of it instead of never knowing anything at all.

Mike cupped Will's face with both hands and tilted Will's chin upwards as he sat upright. The angle shifted and with it, the kiss deepened. Will kinda wished Mike's hands would brand him: leave him with a mark in the shape of Mike's tenderness, so everyone would know who Will's heart belonged to.

As if it wasn't already obvious.

Will savored every touch and slide of their lips, even the small little gulps of air they shared when they parted, desperate for air but even more desperate for one another's lips.

Will was always a giving person. Kind and altruistic, often to the point of self-martyrdom. Would it really be so selfish if, for once, Will took what he was being given?

A large, pale hand caressed down Will's neck, to the spot where it met his shoulder. With a gentleness that almost hurt, and with his other hand now on Will's waist, Mike guided Will backwards, direction slightly turned, angled towards the foot of the bed to avoid hitting the wall. Mike followed him all the way down, lips never leaving Will's even when their teeth awkwardly clacked against each other, until Will's back was against the mattress and Mike was between his spread legs. His forearms were on either side of Will's head, holding him up enough so that he didn't crush Will under the full weight of him.

"Is this okay?" Mike asked softly. His breath tickled against the sensitive, kissed raw skin of Will's lips.

Will blinked his eyes open and suddenly wished he hadn't. The dark set of Mike's eyes, half-lidded and watching Will carefully, was wolfish. Part of Will wanted to say that he recognized the hunger in them because it was the same kind that lived under his skin. Mike must have kissed him stupid because he struggled to find the words to get Mike to kiss him again, so Will nodded eagerly, if not impatiently.

His head clearer now with breathing room between them, Will recognized the song that drifted over through the tinny little speakers.

Whenever I'm alone with you.

You make me feel like I am whole again.

"Since when do you listen to The Cure?" He asked with a half-smile.

"What can I say?" Mike grinned at him and leaned down to plant a kiss to Will's cheek, "I think your weird music taste has been rubbing off on me."

Briefly, Will wondered the difference between it and a normal cheek kiss, if there was any at all. He didn't ask and quite frankly didn't care because Mike followed the vague insult with a drag of his thumb across Will's bottom lip. Mike tilted Will's head to the side and trailed chaste kisses down the length of Will's jaw and chin.

"Wha—weird? My weird music taste? You—"

Mike cut him off with a peck to the lips. Brief, quick. A simple press of the lips and then it was gone. Then, Mike gave him another kiss and another one after that. Will lost all motivation to bicker with him.

A quick lick of the tongue, a brush against the seam of Will's lips and the rest of the world fell away. Mike gently nipped at Will's bottom lip and startled a small noise out of Will that he had very little time to be embarrassed by because Mike righted their lips and dove back in with such fervor Will felt like he was being devoured.

He tugged Will's lip between his teeth, the bite sharp but playful. Will's head spun and heat hummed under his skin at the sting when Mike soothed over the bite with his tongue. Mike licked into his mouth; he tasted like mint toothpaste and the last bits of Will's resolve.

Why was he starved of this for so long?

The reprieve from Will's hunger had only been temporary; the pit in his stomach was bottomless. He wanted more, more, more. He wanted Mike's lips on his, Mike's lips on his neck, his pulse point, his chest and even lower. He wanted Mike's hands on him, always, touching everywhere, even the places where Will didn't dare to explore on his own yet. The thought alone embarrassed and excited him.

He wanted Mike, all of him, everywhere. He wanted it all, he wanted everything.

Kissing Mike awakened something in him that was going to swallow him whole. It was insatiable.

Will reluctantly broke the kiss, panting hard against the warm, soft skin of Mike's cheek as he pressed kiss after kiss to the corners of Will's mouth, his cupid's bow and his bottom lip while Will tried to catch his breath.

He wrapped his arms around Mike's neck, one hand tangled in his curls, and tugged him back down into another kiss, impatient and keen. Mike greedily sucked and bit at Will's lips, settled himself lower between Will's legs and—

They both froze when they felt it.

Mike recoiled, eyes wide and panicked, but Will only got a brief glimpse of them before Mike scrambled backwards. Cold air rushed in as Will had to reluctantly let him go.

"S-Sorry!" Mike stuttered, "I'm so sorry—I'm—I didn't—"

With the slow realization that he hadn't imagined the press of Mike's erection against his thigh, Will sat up and became aware that he'd only been seconds away from Mike finding him with the same plight. Face on fire, Will tried hiding behind his hand; it was all so overwhelming. Unable to meet Mike's eyes, Will stared at the bedsheets next to them while he tried to calm himself—or rather, his body—down.

"It's okay, Mi—"

"No, it's not. Fuck—Will, I'm sorry. I was so caught up in—in kissing—That's never happened to me before," Mike said, his shame evident in the pink of his cheeks and shake of his hands.

As the last words settled over Will, the implication came to him.

His gaze snapped to Mike, "What?"

Mike clicked his mouth shut then swallowed.

"What?" He parroted back.

Will would have rolled his eyes at Mike playing dumb but he couldn't find it in him to be annoyed when there was no way that he heard Mike right.

"You've never—" Will cut himself off, unsure how to phrase it without sounding crass. He was sure that Mike understood what he meant by his very visible cringe.

"Not even with El?" Will finished the thought.

Mike pulled his knees up to his chest. It was clear he was still embarrassed by the flush of his cheeks and fidgeting of his hands. Will had to stifle a laugh when Mike made the totally not obvious decision to grab one of his pillows and hold onto it like a lifeline.

Will felt better knowing that he wasn't the only one affected but he didn't have anything to shield himself like Mike did.

"Y-Yeah. Me and El, we never, um. Not like that," Mike explained.

"That's surprising."

Mike furrowed his brows, "How?"

Will wanted to kiss the wrinkle between Mike's brows. Instead, he shrugged.

"You two couldn't keep your hands off each other."

"That's not true!" Mike protested, "We didn't—I—We made out but we weren't. Handsy. Like… that."

"No?"

"No."

Will watched Mike and carefully considered his words. It made sense that Mike got turned on if he'd never touched someone, or been touched by someone, like that before. The body's natural response to stimuli.

Will wasn't going to delude himself into entertaining any other reason. His heart couldn't afford to. But knowing that Mike never touched El the way he'd been touching Will invited an unwanted smugness to settle in Will's chest. It felt wrong but Will spent so many years being jealous and envious that it also felt like a minor victory. Would it be so wrong if it was?

Will crawled up the bed and situated himself against the headboard, right between Mike and the wall. He grabbed the other pillow and planted it in his lap, partially to make room for himself and partially to hide his own arousal like Mike. He neatly folded his hands on top and bumped Mike's shoulder with his own.

"No judgment, right?"

Finally, Mike's panic started to peter out. He smiled and bumped Will's shoulder back.

"No judgment."

They fell quiet, the tension was gone but it left them weary. It was just them and a song with electric synth that Will didn't know. They listened together in silence until the chorus kicked in a second time.

"So," Will dragged the last syllable out then paused for a second, "Am I a good kisser?"

Smiling, Mike chuckled but the sound was more like a huff of air. His flush had almost completely gone away, his curls wild from where he dragged his hands through it in his panic. He looked endearing and soft, a handsomeness to him that only he could pull off and made Will ache with want.

"Yeah," Mike licked his lips.

Those same lips that had been on Will's. Those same lips that had kissed from his jaw to his mouth. Those same lips that Will wanted to kiss again and again. Those same lips that Will couldn't look away from.

"You can take my word for it but if it makes you feel better," Mike continued, his smile slowly transformed into a smirk, "We can practice whenever you want."

Will Byers, all things considered, was doomed.