Archive of Our Own

Sharing an apartment with Will is probably the second best thing that Mike has ever done in his life so far; the first, of course, being asking Will to be friends all those years ago. Neither of them really asked the other if they wanted to be roommates, it was more something that they just knew was going to happen. It makes sense, really. They're best friends, they're attending the same college, and they've already lived together for a prolonged amount of time before. They also both had a ton of government hush-money left over after paying tuition that they had no idea what to do with, so they figured they could use it for rent and utilities — it's the least the military could do after everything.

Jonathan helped them find an affordable two-bedroom apartment near campus, and then helped them move in when the day came.

The first month is mostly unpacking and figuring out where they want to store things, especially in the kitchen. Because there was a certain way that Mike thought made sense for things to be organized, and another, different way that Will thought made sense. They flipped a coin to choose which one they'd use. Mike won.

Their apartment is at the corner of the building, which means that one of the bedrooms has the privilege of having two windows instead of just one. Will gets that bedroom, upon Mike's insistence. His reasoning is that "the extra light is probably better for your art, right?". So Mike takes the one-window bedroom.

Their living room consists of a couch and coffee table that were left by the past tennants, two chairs they found at a local thrift store (and went through a thorough cleaning and still weren't actually used for a week after that), and a small set of drawers with a small TV sitting on top.

They decorate the apartment walls with a few of Will's pieces, framed of course, and pretty much every available surface becomes cluttered with knick-knacks and trinkets. It may look messy to others, but to Mike it just looks lived-in and feels homely.

They settle into their new life relatively quickly. Their neighborhood is nice, and they find a few local places that look interesting to check out. It takes a bit for Mike to think of this — the apartment, the city, the neighborhood — as home, but eventually he does.

Classes start up, and now they have to adjust — again — to a new schedule. Mike feels like he's drowning in his work for the first month, and Will seems to be going through the same struggle. He stays up way too late at night and into the early morning, immediately starts working on a project as soon as he's home from his classes, and barely takes a proper break to eat. He's a shell of himself, always exhausted and sporting dark circles under his eyes, barely able to stay awake during the day. It gets to a point that Mike feels like he has to do something about it, for Will's own health.

He sees an opportunity one evening when Will comes home from his afternoon figure drawing class. Mike is lounging on the couch in his pajamas, a notebook open in his lap with barely-legible scribbles covering the page, when the door opens and Will shuffles in. He looks worse than usual. Mike jumps up from his spot and meets Will at the door just as he's closing it behind him.

"Hey, Mike. What—" Will cuts himself off when Mike reaches over and takes his messenger bag in hand, slowly lifting it off his shoulder and placing it on the floor next to the door. Then he's helping Will shed his jacket and hanging it up on the hooks stationed above the spot where his bag is sitting. "Um, thanks?" Will toes off his shoes himself and Mike smiles softly at him.

"C'mere." Mike whispers, gently pulling Will toward him by the forearm. Will goes easily, not having much energy to put up a fight. Mike wraps one arm around Will's waist while the other goes around his shoulders and his hand cups the back of Will's neck. Will melts into the hug, tucking his face into the crook of Mike's neck and looping his own arms around Mike's torso, practically falling into the other man.

"What's this for?" Will's voice is muffled by Mike's shoulder but he's close enough that Mike can understand. Mike turns his face into Will's hair and takes a breath, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of his best friend. He doesn't say anything for a few moments, just stands there holding Will. It's nice. They haven't hugged like this in a while; Mike forgot how good it feels just to hold and be held by Will. "Mike?"

Oh, right, Will had asked a question.

Mike shrugs with the shoulder not occupied by Will's head. "Seemed like you needed it." Will hums questioningly. "You've been so stressed lately. I just—I thought a hug might help."

"Of course I've been stressed, I'm a college student." Will jokes and Mike laughs lightly. "And hey, at least it's normal stress and not—the-world-is-gonna-end-unless-we-manage-to-kill-an-interdimensional-being stress."

"Still, stress is stress — you need to relax a bit. Rest and recharge."

"Look who's talking, Mr I-don't-need-to-sleep-I-have-energy-drinks-and-coffee."

"Hey, I don't do that anymore." Mike argues, poking Will in the side. "Most of the time, at least." They both giggle quietly, and then Mike slowly starts walking backward toward the couch, pulling Will along with him. Will lifts his head and gives Mike a questioning look, but lets it happen.

They end up sitting on the couch with Will curled up into Mike's side, Mike's arm wrapped securely around his shoulders. Mike turns on the TV and finds a channel that's playing something interesting enough. Mike doesn't know how long they stay like that, sitting in silence and half-paying attention to the TV. It could be minutes, it could be an hour or two. Regardless, Will ends up asleep, leaning on Mike, who's gently running his fingers through Will's hair.

Mike finally notices that Will is asleep and spends about a minute just looking at him. He looks so…peaceful. The furrow in his brow that's been there for so long that Mike was starting to think it would become permanent, is gone. The tension that Mike had noticed in Will's body is gone, too, his muscles finally relaxing for the first time in a while. A few strands of hair have fallen over his face, and Mike doesn't think before he's gently brushing them away.

He should probably take Will to his room, he thinks. The couch isn't the best place to sleep, and Will needs the best rest that he can get. Mike looks at Will's sleeping face one more time, and then carefully, carefully slides an arm under his legs and readjusts the arm that's around his shoulders, then stands, now holding the sleeping man bridal style. Mike isn't the strongest person ever, and he hasn't really lifted a lot of heavy things lately, but he's able to carry Will easily enough.

He doesn't bother to turn on the light when he pushes through the door to Will's room. As quickly yet gently as he can, he lays Will on his bed, careful not to jostle him too much and wake him up. He's about to pull the comforter over Will but stops when he realizes that Will is still in his clothes that he wore that day. He wore a slightly baggy t-shirt and demin jeans, which Mike knows from experience are not comfortable to sleep in. He stands there for a minute, debating whether he should take them off or not. It would help Will sleep more comfortably, which is something he needs, but also it might be pushing or even crossing a boundary — friends don't usually take their friends' clothes off without permission. But Mike and Will have always had different "rules" for their friendship than other people.

Mike decides that he'd rather his friend sleep comfortably and have to have a conversation about crossed boundaries than knowingly let Will sleep all night in denim, of all materials. Mike's hands are shaking, just barely, as he slowly unbuttons and unzips Will's jeans, careful to only touch the article of clothing, and then starts to shimmy the jeans down Will's legs. Will only stirs once, startling Mike into stopping his movements, but doesn't wake.

Mike breathes a sigh of relief once the jeans are off. He lets them fall to the floor next to the bed, pulls the comforter over Will, and tiptoes out of the room. He closes the door behind him, careful that it doesn't click too loud, and breathes out a sigh. His plan was a success — Will is asleep at a reasonable time, and Mike hopes and prays to the universe that he won't wake up until morning. He falls asleep in his own bed, comforted by the fact that Will is getting some real sleep.

They talk about it in the morning, in their kitchen with a mug of coffee each. Will appreciates what Mike did for him, and thanks him. Mike assures him that it's no problem, because it really isn't, and they continue on with their day.

Will finally starts going to bed earlier than 3 in the morning, with a bit more prompting — read: tricked into falling asleep on the couch and then being moved to his bed — from Mike. Every night, when Will is home from his classes, they sit on the couch together and watch TV, unwinding and decompressing, but it becomes less common that Will actually falls asleep on the couch. Usually he'll get up and get himself ready for bed after he starts yawning.

Still, there are a few days when Will is too exhausted, and Mike has to carry him to bed after he dozes off. Those days are Mike's favorite. He loves getting to carry Will, to hold him close and feel the heat from his body and the weight of him in his arms. Plus, Mike loves helping his best friend — always has. He likes feeling needed, which is probably something he needs to unpack at some point.

He probably won't though, because Mike is nothing if not great at avoiding introspection and emotional analysis.

— — —

One thing that they'd discovered about the apartment early on is that the walls could definitely be thicker. Within the first week of them moving in, they'd been unintentional audience members to their neighbors' argument — really more of a screaming match if Mike's being honest. They ended up sitting near the wall listening to the yelling, which was actually pretty entertaining. Something about cheating, and someone's sister or cousin, and a secret pregnancy. Some real soap opera shit.

Sharing a bedroom wall with Will made this fact all the more obvious. There were multiple nights where it had taken Mike a while to fall asleep because he could hear the music Will had put on while he worked, even though he knew Will kept the volume low so it wouldn't bother him. There had also been one or two nights when he'd heard Will…taking care of himself, for lack of a non-lewd sounding term. Of course, Mike hadn't meant to hear, and he'd quickly turned to listening to his walkman instead until he fell asleep. He didn't bring it up, because he didn't want Will to feel embarrassed for doing something totally natural, or make him feel like he couldn't relax in his own home. It was fine. Totally fine.

Usually there weren't any problems, and they both tried their best to keep quiet at night so they don't keep the other from getting sleep. Then one night, after they'd settled into their schedules, and classes didn't feel as daunting and stressful, Will had a nightmare.

It hadn't happened since they moved in, which Mike thought was probably due to everything going on distracting Will enough that the memories weren't able to push through to the front of his mind. But once everything had calmed down and there's not enough for Will to think about otherwise…

Mike wakes abruptly one Tuesday night at two in the morning according to the alarm clock on his nightstand. At first, he can't figure out what had woken him up and was about to close his eyes and drift off again. Then he hears it; a small whimper from the other side of the wall.

Will.

There's crying, then, and Mike is suddenly wide awake. It doesn't matter what time it is, because Will is crying, and Mike can't stand it when Will cries. It hurts him, makes his chest ache like it's his own pain.

He enters Will's room quickly yet quietly, feeling like an intruder. Well, he kind of is, since Will isn't awake to give him permission to enter his space. Whatever, Mike knows he'll forgive him if he is that upset about it in the morning.

The room is dark, the only light being the slivers of moonlight coming through the blinds. Will's easel sits in the center of the room, covered with a sheet. Art supplies are scattered around the desk and he can just barely see a few painbrushes on the floor that had rolled off. The room looks different in the dark, but Mike doesn't get much time to dwell on that, because Will makes another noise, snapping Mike's attention to him. He's mumbling now, fast and terrified, starting to thrash around a bit.

"No…no…" His voice sounds so small, so…weak. Mike's heart nearly breaks. He doesn't think, just moves on instinct, the need to comfort Will too strong to fight. He's kneeling on the edge of Will's bed before he knows it, cupping Will's shoulder and shaking him lightly.

"Will. Will, hey, wake up." Mike's voice is firm, his grip strong yet gentle. Will thrashes more, shaking his head against the pillow, face pinched in fear and pain. "Will, c'mon. You're okay, it's okay." With another sharp shake from Mike, Will wakes with a gasp, eyes wild as they fly open and find Mike's.

"M-Mike…"

And then Mike is hugging Will, pulling him close and wrapping his arms securely around his waist. "It's okay Will, you're fine. It was just a dream." Will tucks his head into Mike's shoulder and starts to cry. Mike almost joins him. Will is shaking. He grabs Mike's shirt and tries to pull the other man closer. Mike squeezes Will tighter against his chest. He's completely unbothered by the tears and snot that are soaking through the fabric on his shoulder, completely focused on Will.

"Shh, shh. Hey, it's okay." Mike coos and starts to rock Will gently back and forth. One hand slides up to the back of his head and into Will's hair, gently tangling his fingers in the soft, fluffy waves. "It's okay baby, you're okay. It was just a dream." The petname slips out so naturally that Mike doesn't even notice. Will's grip in his shirt becomes tighter. Mike presses his face into his temple and starts to rub small, comforting circles on Will's back.

Mike has no clue how long they sit there like that. He doesn't stop whispering reassurances to Will while his heartbeat slows gradually, and the sobs come to an end. They don't move even after Will has calmed, the silence settling a bit heavily between and around them. Will finally moves, pushing himself away from Mike gently, just enough for them to be able to look at each other. Mike's heart just about breaks seeing Will's face. His eyes are red and puffy, his cheeks slightly shiny with not quite dried tears, and his whole face is flushed slightly pink.

"Um, I-I'm sorry." Will's voice is shaky, quiet. Mike frowns — what the hell does Will have to apologize for?

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

"I woke you up."

"No, I was already awake." Mike lies. He can tell Will sees through it from the eyebrow raise he's given. "Okay, fine, yes, you woke me up."

"I'm sor—"

"But you didn't mean to." Will sniffs and leans forward to rest his forehead against Mike's collarbone. Mike rubs his hand up and down Will's back. The hand in his hair hasn't left, and he starts to gently scratch at Will's scalp. He sighs and melts into Mike.

"'M still sorry."

"It's okay."

Silence fills the room again, less heavy and more comfortable this time.

A few moments pass before Will takes a breath to speak. "Can you um…"

"What, baby?"

"Can you…" A deep breath, then, "Stay. Please."

Mike smiles, a comfortable warmth spreading through his chest. "Yeah. Of course." Will sighs, relieved. They take a minute to arrange themselves in the bed comfortably. They end up with Mike on his back and Will laying on top of him, face buried in his shoulder. Mike holds him close and pulls the comforter over them. "You comfy?"

"Mhm." Will hums sleepily.

"Good." Mike hesitates for a second, then kisses Will on the temple, soft and feather-light. "Get some sleep."

"M'kay."

Mike doesn't let himself fall asleep until he knows for sure that Will is asleep. Once his breathing has slowed and evened out, and his body is relaxed on top of him, Mike finally closes his eyes and drifts off.

Mike wakes up before Will, roused by a sliver of early morning sunlight shining over his eyes through the blinds. In the night, they'd shifted around and Mike now finds himself laying on his side, holding Will, who's curled up into his chest, forehead pressed against his collarbone and an arm tossed over Mike's waist. Will's face is safely tucked out of the reach of the bright light.

Good, Mike thinks. The more sleep he gets, the better.

Mike can't do anything but lay there until Will wakes up, lest he accidentally wakes the other man too early while trying to get out of bed. So he just lays there, listening to the quiet sounds of the city waking up, and looking at Will. It really is crazy how different he looks when he's sleeping than when he's awake. His face softens in a way that Mike hasn't seen lately; he looks serene, like he's never been stressed about anything in his life — like he didn't spend most of his childhood and adolesence having to deal with crazy interdimensional bullshit and living in constant fear that he may be kidnapped, again, or killed.

Mike feels sick every time he thinks about everything they went through over the years — everything Will went through, because it sure as hell was more than Mike and some of the others had. None of them should've had to deal with any of that, but especially not Will. Because Will was the embodiment of everything good in the world. He'd never done anything to deserve what had happened to him. He was perfect, in Mike's eyes.

He watches Will while the sun rises higher in the sky; counts his moles and watches his long eyelashes flutter slightly from the movement of his eyes while still in REM sleep. He watches Will's chest rise and fall with each deep breath that reminds Mike that he's still here, he hadn't lost him. His eyes slowly trace Will's face, up his jawline to his eyebrows, then his eyes, down his nose, to his lips. He stops there for a while, just looking. He wonders if they're as soft as they look.

Eventually, Will's eyes flutter open, finally waking up. He blinks once, twice, then looks at Mike, right in the eyes. They're still slightly glossy from sleep, but they're shining with happiness. Will smiles shyly and Mike feels himself blush, embarrassed by his earlier thought about kissing Will.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Mike's voice is soft, barely there, perfect for the morning.

"Morning." Will slowly sits up, using his hand to block the sun from blinding him, and stretches. The bottom of his sleep shirt rides up a little bit, revealing a sliver of skin that Mike can't help looking at. He quickly tears his gaze away and looks at something more normal, like the David Bowie poster Will has hanging up on the wall.

Mike sits up while Will finishes stretching. "Did you, uh— Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah." Will nods and stares into his lap, avoiding looking at Mike at all. "Better, uh," He takes a breath. "Better than I have in a while, actually. I think…I think because you were here. Like— knowing you were in the room with me." A sense of pride swells in Mike's chest, knowing that he was at least part of the reason Will had slept so well.

Mike clears his throat and tries to keep his face from heating up. And a smirk from appearing. "Well, uh, I— I'm glad I could help."

They sit there for a minute more. Mike feels awkward. Apparently, Will doesn't. He yawns a few times, stretches again, and then moves to get up out of bed. This means Mike has to get up too, because Will was on the side by the wall so Mike was effectively trapping him.

They shuffle out to the kitchen together, and Will starts making some scrambled eggs; something easy to make that they both enjoy. Mike starts on coffee. They go about the morning like normal, and then the rest of the day as well. Mike feels kind of weird just going back to business as usual, but at the same time he appreciates it because he doesn't feel like unpacking any of the feelings he'd had that morning quite yet.

Will's nightmares start to happen more often, especially since it's creeping closer and closer to November. To the day Will's life had changed forever. Mike comforts him and falls asleep in his bed every time. By the time October rolls around, they'd started sleeping in the same bed, because Will didn't have nightmares, or they weren't as bad, when Mike was there. Usually, they sleep in Will's bed. Sometimes, they sleep in Mike's bed for a change of scenery. No matter which room they sleep in, they always cuddle up under the blankets, holding each other close, legs tangled together. Comfortable. Safe.

Mike secretly wishes that Will's nightmares never go away, so they can keep doing this forever. Then he feels awful for wanting his best friend to keep being haunted by the demons of his past, just because he wanted an excuse to hold Will close like this, to be the person that makes Will feel safe enough that the nightmares go away. He feels selfish for it. So he pushes the thoughts away and focuses on the present. Enjoys it while it lasts.

— — —

"Here you go." Mike says, handing Will his coffee mug. It's a Saturday morning, one where neither of them have anything to do, which means they can be as lazy as they want. Will is sitting on the couch, sketchbook in his lap, open to a drawing that he's been working on for fun lately. Mike hasn't seen it yet because Will is being super secretive about it for some reason. Whatever. It's fine.

"Thanks." Will answers, holding the mug with both hands and taking a small sip. Mike hums as a response. Then, without thinking, leans down and kisses the top of Will's head before standing back up and turning to walk back to the kitchen. He freezes once his brain catches up to what just happened — holy shit why did he do that?

"Uh, Mike?"

"Yeah?" Mike swallows nervously. He turns back around — slowly — to face Will. He expects to see maybe a bit of anger, or discomfort in his gaze and prepares for the beratement that he's sure is going to happen.

Instead, Will just looks utterly confused. "What…was that?"

What a great question. What a great fucking question. What was that? Mike sure as hell doesn't know. Maybe playing dumb can get him out of this?

"What was what?" He tries his best to be normal and calm, but he can tell that Will sees through the act by the way he raises an eyebrow — Really? That's what we're doing?

"Mike."

Well, fuck.

"I…I—I dunno. Honestly." A beat of silence. Two beats. Then: "Do you hate me now? Please don't hate me." Because the thought of Will hating him makes Mike feel sick to his stomach. He'd dealt with it briefly back in '85 and he'd felt like dying. No way did he want to go through that again.

Now Will is staring at Mike like he's said something absolutely preposterous. "Hate you? What—I don't hate you. Why would I hate you for that?" Mike's shoulders drop, muscles relaxing. He hadn't even realized they'd tensed up. "I just—I wasn't expecting it."

"Did you…hate it?"

Will hesitates, just for a second. He looks…nervous? "…No. No, I didn't."

"Okay. Cool. Me—me neither."

"Cool."

The tension that had permeated the room eases, and that's that. Mike goes to the kitchen to pour his own mug of coffee and start making pancakes for the both of them, and Will relaxes back into the couch and returns his attention to his sketchbook.

After that, it becomes more normal, the kisses. They start off few and not often — a kiss to the top of Will's head some mornings when handing him his coffee; a peck on Mike's forehead as thanks for cooking or picking up food; a lingering kiss to Will's temple on nights when his nightmares are worse than normal, despite Mike being there.

Then it slowly slowly becomes a daily thing. Good morning pecks on the top of the head or temple; a kiss on the cheek as thanks for something or other; and every once in a while a kiss on the nose, just to see the other smile when they're upset — though that one is mostly Mike to Will.

It's normal, almost routine for them now. They don't even notice it anymore. Most of the time. Mike still gets some butterflies sometimes and can't stop his face from flushing pink.

They don't do it in public. That's an unspoken agreement between them. Because it's something just for the two of them, in the sanctuary of their apartment. Their home. So, of course, their friends don't know about it.

Until one day.

They're hanging out with Dustin and Jane, who'd driven up to visit for the weekend, sitting in a small café waiting for their drinks.

"Order for Will!" The barista finally announces from the counter. Will starts to stand but Mike stops him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"I got it." Then he's gone. He thanks the barista as he picks up the drinks — one for him and one for Will because Will always orders when Mike pays — and then he's back at the table. It was so fast it's like he hadn't even left.

"Here you are, my good sir." Mike sets Will's drink in front of him with a small flourish and a fancy-sounding tone of voice, then kisses the top of his head on instinct and slides back into his seat on Will's right.

"Why thank you." Will replies through a small giggle. They turn their attention back to Dustin and Jane to continue the conversation they'd been in the middle of before Mike collected the drinks. Dustin and Jane are sitting there, staring at the pair, wide eyes and slack jaws.

Mike squints at them, confused. "What?"

"You just—" Dustin points slowly between the two. "You— kiss— what?"

"Oh, right. That." It was so instinctual by now that Mike had forgotten that 1) it wasn't standard in a friendship to kiss each other on the head like that — or anywhere, really — and 2) they were in public, where anyone could see. Fuck, he broke the one rule they had with this. Shit. Hopefully Will won't be too mad.

But Will just shrugs casually. "We do that to say thanks 'n stuff." He takes a sip of his drink and leans back a little in his seat. Casual. So casual, the opposite of Mike, who was kind of sort of freaking out inside.

"How long…?" Jane asks hestitantly.

"Uh, I—I dunno. A while." Mike feels…embarrassed. "At least a month, month-and-a-half?" He takes a sip of his drink.

"A month?!" Dustin's exclamation grabs the attention of two nearby tables. Mike can see the occupants turning to look over, and he kicks Dustin's leg under the table. "Ow!"

"Dude. Keep your voice down."

"Yeah, you're bothering people." Will says. The other customers lose interest after there's no more outbursts and go back to whatever they were doing before.

"We are just—surprised." Jane jumps in, laying a hand on Dustin's shoulder. It looks like his eye is about to start twitching soon. "We have not seen you show affection like this before."

"Well, we don't usually do it outside the apartment." Will says simply.

We don't do it outside the apartment, so why the hell did you do it here? Is what Mike thinks he really means. Although that might just be his brain freaking out and trying to convince him that everything is going wrong.

"Anyway, Dustin, tell us more about that professor that you say has it out for you." Will continues the conversation like normal.

"Oh, don't even get me started—" It's like a switch flips in Dustin's mind. The topic changes, just like that, and Mike breathes a sigh of relief, trying his best to listen to Dustin's story and sipping on his drink. Will hadn't seemed too upset by his slip-up, but he could just be pretending because they're in public. Maybe he's going to wait until they're back home to lecture Mike about being careful about where they are when he does that. He knows Will is still wary of someone saying something nasty to him because he's gay — what if Mike had accidentally turned that wariness into fear by what he did?

The rest of the afternoon goes by just fine, and finally Mike and Will are saying goodbye to Jane and Dustin just before evening.

"We have to meet up next weekend." Jane insists. She's holding Will by the shoulders, staring into his eyes almost like she's trying to peer into his soul.

"Yeah, totally! There's a new art exhibition going on next weekend that I wanna check out. Maybe we can all go together!"

The plans are made, actual goodbyes are said, and then the two pairs split off, back to their respective homes. They're not too far from the apartment, and it's a nice day in the beginning of spring, so Mike and Will decide to walk back.

They don't talk, but the silence is comfortable. Sill, Mike is anxious about the possibility of being lectured by an upset Will when they get back. He's itching with the need to apologize for his slip-up.

"Hey, uh— I'm sorry." They're two blocks away from their apartment building when Mike gathers the courage to talk. "For earlier, in the café. I should've been more careful— I just— wasn't thinking and— it's like instinct at this point, but I know that we don't do it outside the apartment, and—"

Will stops them both in the middle of the sidewalk, grabbing Mike by the elbow. "Whoa, whoa whoa. Slow down, Mike." Of course, he'd started to ramble, like usual. They shuffle to the side of the sidewalk, by the side of a building while Mike catches his breath and gathers his thoughts. "What are you trying to say?"

Mike takes a breath. Swallows down his anxiety. "Earlier at the café, when I—" He lowers his voice, careful not to speak loud enough that someone could overhear. "I kissed you on the head, because that's— it's what we do now, I guess, and— I forgot where we were—

"And I know that you try to be careful about stuff like that because we don't know how people will react, and I just— I'm sorry. Really sorry." He watches Will's face as he sifts through the word-vomit that Mike had just spewed. Confusion, first, then understanding, and finally, amusement.

"Mike, it's okay." It's obvious that Will is trying to hold back a giggle.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Mike, I'm sure." Mike sighs, relieved. He'd really thought Will would be more upset.

"Okay. Good." He sighs again. "I just— I didn't wanna get back and have you— I dunno, lecture me, or something."

This time, Will does laugh, a sudden, loud, huff. "Lecture you? Mike, why—"

"I don't know." Mike whines and pouts. He starts walking again, now excited to get back home and relax. "We hadn't done it in public before, and I didn't wanna do something that made you uncomfortable."

"Well, you didn't. And I won't be upset with you if you do end up slipping up again." Will is blushing and avoiding looking at Mike when he says this. The little guy in Mike's brain that had been holding onto this worry fucks right off to the back of his mind, enough for him to forget about it — for now, at least.

"Okay. That—That's good to know." They smile at each other and continue on their way back home. Mike asks Will about the art exhibition he'd mentioned, and happily listens to him talk about all the different styles that are supposed to be on display there, and which ones he's most excited to see.

He talks the whole rest of the way to their apartment building, and then up to their apartment, too. He jumps to another art related topic while they're taking off their shoes and hanging up their jackets on the hooks by the door, and keeps talking while they settle in to watch a movie like they'd planned to do earlier that day.

They order pizza for dinner, because neither feel like cooking, and spend the rest of the night watching some of their favorite movies from when they were younger.

They may or may not fall asleep on the couch and wake up in the morning with an ache in their necks and backs that Mike says makes him feel like an old man, making Will laugh.

— — —

There's not enough room in the subway car. There's never really enough room, but usually Mike and Will manage to squeeze into seats before they're taken. And they'd managed to do so this time. But then Will saw an elderly woman with nowhere to sit and, like the saint of a man he is, immediately offered her his seat. She'd accepted gratefully after a bit of insistance, calling him a "lovely young man", and now they're here — on a crowded subway, Mike sitting comfortably enough and Will standing in front of him, trying to keep his balance.

Mike offers to swap and let Will sit instead, but Will refuses. "No, Mike, you got the seat first. You can stay there. I'm fine."

Mike knows that Will wasn't going to budge with this, not tonight anyway, but he also knows that Will's feet were probably killing him after walking through that art gallery for over two hours. He's constantly shifting from foot to foot, trying to give both of them rest as equally as possible.

Finally, Mike decides he's had enough. He huffs and pulls Will down onto his lap by his belt loops. Will yelps as he lands, and tries to get back up immediately, but Mike wraps his arms around his waist, acting like sort of a human seatbelt.

"Mike, I'm fine, I can stand—"

"Well, you're sitting now. Deal with it." Will scoffs, annoyed, but stays. He even leans back against Mike's chest a bit and lets Mike hook his chin over his right shoulder. Mike knows that Will is actually extremely grateful to be sitting, but he's feeling stubborn right now and won't admit it.

Nobody pays too much attention to their fellow passengers on the subway unless they're causing a scene, so Mike isn't worried about getting any weird or nasty looks. And if someone does decide to stare at them for this, Mike will just stare right back at them until they get uncomfortable and look away. Like a staring contest. Mike is really good at staring contests.

Neither of them really mention it when they get home, just a simple, quiet "thanks" from Will while they're taking off and hanging up their jackets. Mike smiles and kisses his temple. The rest of the evening continues like normal.

Three days later, they're meeting up with Lucas, Max, Dustin, and Jane for one of their now once monthly hangouts. They had all agreed to meet at a bar that Lucas had found that's a reasonable traveling distance from all three pairs, not outrageously expensive, and just so happens to be queer-friendly. It's about 7:30 by the time they're all there, Dustin and Jane showing up last but not too much later than the others.

The bar is decently full, for a Wednesday night. Lucas has already ordered some shots for them from the bar to start the night, and Mike helps him carry them to the table Max had found. They quickly realize that they're one chair short once all the seats have been taken. Dustin and Jane are sitting next to each other, Dustin on Jane's left, and Max is on Jane's right side, with Lucas beside her. Mike has taken the seat across the table from Dustin, and Will is left standing next to the table.

"Shit, should we steal a seat from another table?" Dustin wonders.

"I don't wanna fuck with their seating numbers or whatever." Lucas says.

"Well we can't just leave Will standing all night," Jane says. "His legs will get tired."

Mike sighs and, without saying anything, pulls Will toward him by the waist and tugs him down to be seated on his lap. Will lets out a quiet, surprised "oh!" but doesn't try to stand. Max, Lucas, Jane, and Dustin watch this, then all give each other Looks. Max squints at Mike, like she knows something. He blushes and looks away from her.

"There," Mike clears his throat. "Problem solved."

Lucas side-eyes the two men. "Yeah…problem solved." The weird tension dissipates when Jane reaches for a shot, and then everyone is grabbing one and tossing it back. The alcohol burns the back of Mike's throat and he coughs a bit, into his elbow like a normal person, because his mother taught him manners.

They have a few more shots together before ordering an appetizer and some actual drinks. The atmosphere in the bar is surprisingly kinda cozy, which Mike didn't really expect. They're all having a great time, even though they're just sitting and talking. Mike is three drinks in by now and starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. He nurses this last one, because one of them needs to be sober enough to get himself and Will home safely.

Will, on the other hand, is about five cocktails deep and it's definitely starting to show. Max drags Will and Jane away to dance for a bit, leaving Lucas, Mike, and Dustin at the table to talk amongst the three of them. Mike swears he sees Will pout when he's being pulled away, weakly reaching a hand out toward Mike.

"So…" Mike turns his attention to Lucas. "Are we not gonna talk about that?"

"About what?"

"Is this just another weird thing you two suddenly do now?" Dustin asks. He takes a sip of his drink before quickly adding on, "Like the kissing thing?"

"The what?" Lucas's eyes are wide and it seems like he damn near breaks his neck with how fast he turns to Mike.

Dustin raises an eyebrow. "Oh, they didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Mike fidgets under Lucas's heavy gaze.

"Why don't you tell him, Mike. Since it is your thing with Will." Dustin leans back in his chair and sips on his drink, smirking a bit. Mike can feel his face heating up being put on the spot and he knows his ears are probably starting to become bright red, if they're not already. He hadn't thought about their kissing thing being weird or not normal for two platonic friends to do, but since Dustin had pointed it out that day at the café he'd been a bit more aware.

Mike glares at Dustin. "I hate you." Dustin just shrugs. Mike turns to Lucas and takes a breath. "So, Will and I started, like, kissing," Lucas's jaw drops and his eyes somehow open wider. "Not like kissing kissing, but like—you know—like, little—little kisses on the head and forehead and all that." Mike feels warmer now, not from the alcohol, and his ears are definitely red now. Probably look like they're glowing.

Lucas blinks a few times. You can see the cogs turning in his mind while he absorbs this new information. "…How—" He pauses, props his elbow on the table and rests his chin in his hand. "When—" Another pause. Mike can't look at him right now so he focuses on his drink sitting on the table, on the condensation running down the side of the bottle, pooling around it on the table below.

Finally, Lucas finds the question he's looking for. "Why?"

"Why what?" Mike glances up at Lucas quickly, then back to the bottle.

"Why did you start doing it?"

"Oh, uh—It kinda just—like it just happened. One day. I just—kissed him on the head, when I gave him his coffee. And he—he didn't hate it. So…it just became A Thing, I guess."

Lucas squints skeptically, like Mike might be lying. He's not. He manages to meet Lucas's eyes, and after a moment, Lucas nods slowly.

"Okay…And it's purely platonic? One hundred percent not romantic?"

Mike shrugs. "I mean—yeah. I'm pretty sure."

"You're 'pretty sure'?" Dustin leans forward and jumps back into the conversation.

"Well, we didn't really talk about it. We just—it just kept happening, and now it's—a Thing. He hasn't said anything about it." Mike leans back in his chair, tries to shrink into himself. Why the hell are they interrogating him right now? He takes a sip of his drink. Dustin and Lucas share a look, then turn back to Mike.

"You—" Dustin huffs, then puts his head in his hands. "Whatever, I don't think I'm sober enough for this right now."

"This conversation isn't over though, Wheeler." Lucas points an accusing finger at Mike. "Just postponed. We will be circling back."

The conversation shifts to something else, taking the spotlight off of Mike. Thank God. He feels like he can breathe easier now. His face is back to its regular flush that he gets when he drinks.

Will shuffles back to the table about ten minutes later, a little off-balance and swaying, and just plops himself back down on Mike's lap. He's sitting sideways this time, instead of facing the table with his back against Mike's chest like before. Mike wraps his arms around Will's waist to steady him.

"Miiiiiike." Will whines. His face is flushed red with a sheen of sweat all over. His hair is messy, like he'd been running his hands through it all night. His eyes, though slightly droopy, are shining with joy — he's having a great time, and Mike loves that.

"Hey, what's up?" Mike smiles. Will wraps his arms loosely around Mike's neck.

"Max and Jane are sooooo awesome." Will giggles. He feels a warmth in his chest seeing his best friend so happy. "We should—should do this more. Pleeeeease, Mikey?"

The nickname catches him off-guard and he flinches back, just barely. His eyes quickly shoot to Lucas and Dustin, watching with a weird look, then back to Will.

"Uh, y-yeah. Sure, we can—we can definitely, uh—do this more."

"Yay!" Will laughs happily and tosses his arms in the air. He's thrown off-balance for a second before Mike tightens his hold on Will's waist, pulling him closer and keeping him from falling.

"Whoa, lets calm down a bit, yeah?"

Will giggles again, and Mike's chest squeezes. He's so pretty when he laughs. It's not a new thought, but there are times where it jumps to the front of his mind and then it's the only thing Mike can think about for a bit.

Max and Jane pop out of the crowd then, giggling and leaning on each other and trying not to trip over their own feet. They manage to make it to the table without falling or knocking over anyone else and practically collapse into their chairs.

"Hey, did you have fun?" Lucas asks through a chuckle and wraps his arm around Max's shoulders.

"So much fun." Max says. Jane nods in agreement. "You guys should come dance."

"I dunno, I don't really…" Mike tunes out the conversation to focus on Will. He's burrowed his face in the crook of Mike's neck and is now gently twisting the hair at the nape. A shiver runs down Mike's spine, and he holds Will tighter.

He focuses back on the conversation the other four are having when Dustin and Lucas are in the middle of a debate about which Star Wars movie is better. He doesn't listen too hard, just lets their voices wash over him, familiar and comforting. Will sighs against his neck and Mike moves an arm to run it up and down his back slowly. They stay like that for a while, long enough that the topic changes to one that Mike feels like he can jump in on a little bit.

Will lets out a large sigh and cuddles closer to Mike. He's falling asleep. Mike suddenly realizes how bright the lights are and how loud it is in the bar — not an ideal environment for sleep.

Mike turns his head to press his mouth near Will's ear. "You tired, baby? Ready to go home?" He's conscious of the petname this time, but he's tipsy enough to not care as much as he would if he were sober. Will whines quietly and nods against Mike's neck. "Alright, I'll get you home, don't worry." He presses a kiss to the side of Will's neck, causing the other man to shiver.

Mike turns his attention back to the rest of the table and finds them all staring at him like they Know Something. Weird, but whatever.

"Hey, I think we're gonna head out now." He says over the noise. He slides an arm under Will's legs while talking. "I had a great time, we gotta do this again—soon." Mike's other arm wraps more securely around Will's back, and then he's carefully standing up. He says goodbye to the others and Will gives them a drunkenly tired wave, and then they're making their way through the crowd, the message of "get home safe!" somehow managing to be heard over the noise.

The cool night air feels incredible when it washes over Mike's hot skin. Will lifts his head long enough to breathe it in and cool his face a bit, then goes right back to the position he was in before. They're actually not too far from their apartment building, if Mike is remembering correctly, and he doesn't feel like dealing with the subway and all the sweaty bodies there, after being in that bar for hours, so he decides to walk. He could use the exercise, anyway.

Neither talk, just listen to the ambient noises of New York City at…probably about midnight, close to one o'clock, if Mike had to guess. The walk up to their apartment is quiet, too, and Mike fumbles around a bit trying to fish his key out of his pocket and actually get it in the lock without jostling Will too much.

Finally, they're inside. They'd left a lamp on, illuminating the room with its soft, yellow light. Mike toes off his shoes and takes Will to his bedroom and lays Will in his bed. Will gives a discontented huff when Mike gently pulls his arms away from his neck. He takes Will's shoes off and leaves him in his clothes tonight, because he'd made the correct decision to not wear denim.

He gets a glass of water and painkillers and sets them on Will's nightstand and pulls the blankets over Will. Then he stands to go to his own room, but Will reaches his hand out and grabs weakly for Mike's wrist.

"Don' go. Wan' you here." Will mumbles sleepily. And damn it, Mike is a weak man when it comes to Will.

"Okay," he whispers, guiding Will's outstretched hand to the bed. "Give me a second, i'm gonna get some pajama pants. I'll be right back." Because of course Mike had decided to wear denim jeans tonight.

"M'kay."

As quickly as he can, Mike goes to his room and changes into pajama pants, and then he's back in Will's room. Will is still awake, somehow, and he lazily lifts his arms and makes grabby hands toward Mike. Chuckling, Mike slides under the blanket next to him. Immediately, Will wraps his arms around Mike's torso, pulling him close and laying his head on Mike's chest. Mike holds him, too. It's so cute, how clingy he is when he's drunk. Drunk Will is just cute in general, too; a bit cuter than Sober Will or Sleepy Will, Mike thinks.

Mike can feel himself starting to doze off. Before he does, he gives Will a kiss on the head and says, "Goodnight, baby."

"G'night, Mikey."

And then he's asleep.

It happens more often after that, the lap sitting. It becomes A Thing, like the kissing. Usually it'll be Mike pulling Will onto his lap, but sometimes Mike sits on Will's lap instead. At first, it was just when there weren't enough places to sit when they were hanging out with the Party or their other friends from school. Then it slowly became an all-the-time thing. Doesn't matter where they are, or how many empty seats there are, there's a 100% chance that you'll find Will sitting on Mike's lap, leaned back into the other man with Mike's chin hooked over his shoulder.

At first their friends gave them odd looks, especially Max, who always looked at Mike like she knew something he didn't. It unsettled him a bit. But eventually, they all got used to it and now barely give them a sideways glance. Except Max, who still shoots them that Look for at least three seconds (Mike counted).

Mike doesn't think it's weird, and Will hasn't said anything either, he just blushes lightly before settling in. It's nice. It's comfy.

It definitely doesn't send Mike's heart racing a mile a minute every time Will just— melts into him.

It's fine. Really.

— — —

Everything comes to a head one late autumn evening when Mike and Will are hosting a movie and games night with the rest of the Party. They'd already played a few games, both video and board — Monopoly was a mess — and were now trying to figure out what movie to watch. Max and Dustin wanted to watch a new movie that Steve had told them was really good, because apparently Steve thought he was some kind of film buff now (Robin, whose opinion on movies they trusted more, always followed up with them to vouch for or veto Steve's recommendation). Jane, Will, and Mike wanted to watch a movie that they've seen before and all liked. Lucas was unusually quiet, watching the argument from his spot on one of the chairs.

After ten minutes of arguing, Lucas said "Why don't we just flip a damn coin for it?"

They ended up rewatching a movie. Everyone got settled in while Mike popped the movie in the player.

"Anyone want any snacks? Drinks?" He asks, turning to the rest of the group. Jane, Lucas, and Max request chips, a soda, and pretzels, respectively. Mike passes by the couch where Will is sitting on his way to the kitchen. Will stops him with a gentle grab of his wrist.

"Can you get my Reeces, please?"

"'Course. I was planning to anyway." Will lets Mike go and within a minute he's back in the living room handing everyone their snacks. He hands Will his Reeces last while he settles in next to him.

"Thank you, Mike."

"No problem, baby." Mike whispers with a smile of his own and a kiss on the temple. And that was another thing that had become A Thing; the petnames. Usually it was "baby" and only really said when they were at home, but every once in a while it was "hon" or "sweetheart". Rarely, it was "love". It was always Mike using them for Will, not the other way around, but Mike was fine with that. He wasn't doing it to get Will to call him petnames back, he was doing it because he wanted to, and it felt right.

Will settles against Mike's side while he pulls the blanket Will has over himself too, resting his head on Mike's shoulder. A familiar and common position for them to sit in while they were watching something together. Mike can see Max give them a Look from her spot cuddled up in Lucas's lap but he ignores it. Even though every time she does that, he gets a weird chill down his spine and he feels like he's being studied under a microscope or something.

By the end of the movie, Will has migrated to Mike's lap, curled up against his chest with his head tucked under Mike's chin. Mike has one arm wrapped securely around Will's waist while he runs his other hand soothingly up and down Will's back. Nothing too unusual from how they would be sitting if it had been just them.

The credits roll on the TV while everyone starts to clean up. They hadn't made too big of a mess so it's quick work with the six of them. They'd planned for everyone to sleep over, so Mike and Will, the good hosts they are, gather their extra blankets and pillows from their storage closet and toss them onto the couch.

"Here, shit for the couch." Mike says, then yawns. "My bedroom is free to use. You guys can figure out sleeping arrangements. Goodnight."

Mike turns to walk to Will's room, gently pulling the other man along by the arm. "C'mon, baby. 'M tired."

"Hold up— what did you just call him?" Max sounds wide awake now, despite how much she'd been yawning just five minutes ago. Mike stops dead in his tracks. Will's arm slides out of his grasp. He's also wide awake now, and refuses to turn around.

"I dunno what you're talking about," He plays dumb, hoping that Max drops it, at least for the night. "You must be hearing things." Mike turns to look at Will standing beside him. He's looking at Mike with an amused smile. Yeah, he's not gonna help Mike get out of this one.

"Nuh-uh, my ears are working perfectly well." Max's voice is closer. "Now turn around and face us like a man, Wheeler."

"Fuck you, Mayfield." Mike says, but turns around anyway. He avoids meeting anyone's eyes, instead glancing all around the room. As if not looking at them is going to make this any easier. "Okay. Now what?"

"You—" Max looks at Mike like he's insane. He can tell she's trying not to yell; it is late, after all.

Lucas steps up to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. "Dude, you called Will 'baby'. You said that your room is 'free to use' and now you're just—going to his room, like it's normal."

"I mean, it is pretty normal, I guess." Will shrugs. Everyone freezes. Jaws drop. Eyes practically bulge out of heads. Mike's whole face flushes; he's willing to bet the tips of his ears are bright fucking fire engine red. Will is blushing lightly next to him, arms crossed like he's putting a barrier between him and anyone else.

Silence.

Two seconds of complete silence from the Party.

Then, "What do you mean it's normal?" Jane's tone is, surprisingly, even when she asks the question. That somehow makes it worse. Mike kind of feels like he's going to vomit. He kind of wants to bury himself in a hole to avoid all the attention.

"Are you guys dating?" Dustin blurts out. Mike and Will's heads snap to him, shared panicked expressions on their faces.

"Um, I—we, uh—"

"Why—why do you think that?" Will chokes out.

"Well, let's look at the evidence," Lucas holds up his hand and points to a finger when he says each Thing. "You kiss each other all the time, Will's been sitting on your lap every single time we hang out—"

"Wh—I—It's not every time." Mike argues weakly.

"We heard you call Will 'baby'," Will squeaks and avoids eye contact when Mike looks over at him. "And now you guys are going to sleep together. In the same bed. And you say it's normal."

"You gotta see it from our perspective, dude." Dustin adds once Lucas puts his hand down. Mike opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking like a fucking fish out of water. He kinda feels like one, too. Beside him, Will isn't much better. His face is fully red now, and he's just standing there, mouth open, like he'd just been busted for a crime.

Finally, Mike speaks. "I—We—we're not—It's not like that. He has nightmares!" Will nods aggressively. "A-and they—they seem to go away when I'm there, so." Mike crosses his arms and shrugs sharply.

"And the petname?"

"I just—I—"

"Okay, we're not talking to you about this anymore tonight." Will jumps in and nudges Mike toward his room. "Everyone go to sleep. We'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."

"But, Will—"

"I said goodnight!" They make it into Will's room and Mike tries really hard not to slam the fucking door behind him. They're both standing there in the middle of the dimly-lit room, illuminated only by the moonlight coming through the blinds. Both are red-faced and breathing quickly from the slight adrenaline rush.

Are they dating?

No, they're just—best friends, doing Normal Best Friend Things. That's all it is. And that's—fine.

I mean, it's not like Mike lays awake some nights trying in vain to name that squeezing, hot feeling he gets in his chest when he thinks about Will, or hugs Will, or calls him 'baby' and 'sweetheart' just to see the flush on the other man's face. It's not like when he's leaning in to kiss him on the temple, he gets the urge to change course to his lips, or that he sometimes thinks about how Will would react if he did kiss him for real; doesn't think about what Will would look like with kiss-swollen lips and messed up hair from Mike running his hands through it, eyes wide and shining with love—

Shit.

Fuck.

Mike is starting to realize that it's possible he may be a little bit in love with Will.

…

Okay, a lot in love.

He'd been feeling all these things for years but he'd never actually taken the time to examine why he was feeling them, or what they were. Maybe he should've. If he had, maybe he wouldn't be so thrown off by this realization. Maybe it wouldn't be slamming into him like a truck on the highway.

And all it had taken was their friends asking if he and Will were dating.

They aren't, and they never have.

But God, now Mike realizes that he wants to be.

He wants to date Will so badly that he kind of aches with it.

Had he and Will been accidentally dating somehow?

What even constitutes as dating? Hanging out together all the time? Having inside jokes that no one else knows? Cuddling, and kissing each other on the face, and calling each other petnames, like they'd been doing?

Shit.

Maybe they had some-fucking-how fallen into a relationship.

"Mike?" Will's soft voice pulls him out of his head. He's standing in front of Mike, a hand gently laid on his shoulder. He looks concerned. A bit scared. "Are—are you okay?"

Mike stares into his eyes — his beautiful, gorgeous, hazel eyes.

"I think I love you."

The words slide off Mike's tongue like he's said them a hundred times. It's barely a whisper but Will heard just fine. He flinches back and blinks once. Twice. Mike doesn't look away. There's a complex dance of emotions in Will's eyes, one that Mike can't quite follow.

"What?"

"I think—" Mike takes a breath, finds Will's hands and holds them in his own. "No, I know that…I love you." Will stands there not saying anything for so long that Mike is starting to regret saying anything.

"You…what?"

"I love you." Mike repeats. He squeezes Will's hands. "Actually, I think—I think I might be in love with you, but that seems a bit too early—"

"Mike." Will's voice is firm in his interruption. Neither have broken their gaze.

"Yeah?"

"I love you, too."

Fireworks. Flashing lights. Music. Confetti. A whole celebration is happening inside Mike's head right now. It feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. He feels like he could explode with happiness right now.

"Really?"

"Yes." Will giggles at his awestruck expression. "I've loved you for years, Mike."

Holy shit. Bomb drop of the fucking century.

"Wha—years?"

"Yes, years."

"I didn't—I-I'm sorry, I—" Mike laughs helplessly. Will's bright smile is almost blinding in the low light. "I was so fucking oblivious. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you were."

They laugh lightly together for a few seconds. Then they're just staring at each other in the quiet. Mike's heart is beating so hard it feels like it's trying to break through his ribs and out of his chest.

"Hey Will?"

"Yeah?"

Mike licks his lips quickly then takes a steadying breath. "Can I…can I kiss you?"

Will nods, his smile somehow even brighter, and that's all Mike needs. He cups Will's face in his hands and leans in, Will meeting him halfway.

Their lips brush tentatively, barely a touch. Then Mike is pressing his mouth against Will's and Will is pressing back, and they're kissing. They're kissing. Mike Wheeler is kissing Will Byers. He feels like he could faint. His whole body feels jittery. There's a hum of energy under his skin. Is this how kissing is supposed to feel? It's addicting.

Will runs his hand up from Mike's shoulder to the back of his neck, and tangles his fingers in his hair. His other hand finds its home wrapped around Mike's forearm, squeezing like he might disappear if he loosens his hold.

They pull away for a second to catch their breath, then Mike is kissing Will again, slotting their lips together and finding a rhythm. He's so happy, he could die. His and Will's matching giddy smiles turn the kiss into more of a pressing together of teeth, but they don't care.

Will pulls away after what feels like hours. Mike chases him for a second before he's stopped by a hand on his chest. "Mike," He's smiling and giggling and blushing like a schoolgirl with a crush and it's fucking adorable. Mike manages to steal a quick kiss or two before leaning back. He's still cupping Will's face in both hands, squishing his cheeks just a little. "I love you—"

"I love you too." It feels so nice to say it.

"But I'm tired. Can we go to bed now?"

And now that Will's mentioned it, Mike is also feeling pretty tired. It's understandable, given what's happened in the last—what, hour? Hour and a half?

"Yeah. Yeah, of course." Mike steals a few more kisses before they separate to get ready to sleep. Changing into pajamas takes a bit longer than usual because Mike can't stop kissing Will every five seconds. They eventually slide under the blanket on Will's bed, still giddy and giggly. They settle in and kiss a little bit more until Will starts to doze off.

"Goodnight, baby." Mike whispers.

"Hmm. G'night." And then Will's asleep.

Mike stays up for a few minutes longer, admiring Will's face in the moonlight.

Gorgeous. Always absolutely gorgeous.

Mike falls asleep with one thought swimming around in his mind:

How the hell did I get so lucky?