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Dustin drops back onto the couch with a dusty flump, groaning dramatically. “You, sir,” he accuses, jabbing a finger at Mike, “are a sadistic villain.”
Mike grins, and Dustin presses his hand to his head, possibly exaggerating just how dizzy he still is from chugging a beer, spinning in a circle ten times, and then holding himself upside-down against the wall for a minute. Or possibly not — he groans as El settles back under his raised arm, but still hugs her close.
“Oh, definitely,” Mike agrees. “Take it out on Max.”
Max makes a sound of protest, and Mike beams at her, sticking out his tongue.
“Alright,” Dustin says. “Truth or dare?”
“Dare.”
Dustin grins gleefully, wiggling his fingers in a manner most sinister. Max groans.
He ponders for a minute, closing his eyes and raising his hands appeasingly when the inevitable heckling begins. “Children, children! Settle down!” he finally declares. His eyes flick open, gleaming. “I dare you…” he says ominously, “to stick your hand as far down the toilet as you can.”
The basement erupts into chaos. “That’s so much worse!” Max yells.
Lucas makes a clucking noise, widening his eyes innocently when she fixes him with a steely glare and shoots up from her place at the far end of the couch.
They trail after her upstairs. Mike stumbles, tipsy, and Will catches his elbow with a little smile, his own cheeks pink from a few drinks.
“There better not be shit stains in there or I’m shoving your head in it,” Max warns.
“Hey!” Dustin says, inexplicably insulted rather than threatened. “Mrs. Wheeler would never.”
A hum of assent drifts up from the party, and Max opens the bathroom door with a grimace.
Five minutes later, they’re settled in the basement once more, Max’s freckled arm bright red from scrubbing.
El hums, tilting her head hazily and nuzzling into the warmth of Dustin’s hoodie. His hand gently scritches at her long hair as she says, “Truth, I think.”
Max nods slowly, taking a sip of her beer. She swishes it in her mouth, and then swallows with a gulp, grinning. “Got it. El, I once asked you a question.” She places the can on the carpet before her, steepling her fingers like a scheming eunuch. “You didn’t have an answer then, but you’ve got a little more experience now, so I ask again… is Mike Wheeler a good kisser? Yes or no?”
Will’s fingers stutter where they were slowly twisting in Mike’s loose waves. He feels Mike shift against his leg as El giggles, wriggling against Dustin to sit up slightly. Dustin lets out a dramatic oof as her elbow pokes his ribs. “No!” she says gleefully, cheeks flushed from the alcohol.
Max crows with laughter, punching the air and falling back on the carpet, almost knocking her beer over. “I knew it!” She props herself up with one arm, peering suspiciously up at El. “You’re not just saying that because he’s, like, your ex, right?”
“No, no, I am serious!” El insists earnestly, eyes wide. “Mike is terrible!”
Will’s stomach starts to twist uneasily. Despite the merriment, Mike is quiet, and Will glances down at the back of his head.
Will loves El, and he loves that she’s so comfortable speaking up around the party, a far cry from the girl she used to be, watching wide-eyed from the sidelines. She still craves closeness, the reassurance of touch and an easy word of affection, but not in the meek, owlish way she once hung on Mike’s arm and every word. Now she laughs and teases, feels she has things to contribute — things of value that the party pauses to hear. Normally, Will is unbelievably proud to see his sister flourish, but right now he wants nothing more than for El to close the mouth she’s so giddily cramming her foot in.
Because it’s not true. Mike’s a good kisser, a great kisser in Will’s admittedly limited experience. Kissing Mike makes butterflies flutter in his belly, makes his head spin, feels like flying and like coming home and like tasting the fucking sunshine in the sky, and he may be stupidly in love but Will is certain that Mike is not a terrible kisser. At least, not when he kisses Will.
He doesn’t like where this is going.
“Woah,” Lucas says, cutting off Dustin’s slurred and pompous joke about his life-changing kissing skills. “Will, what was that look?”
Will looks up from where his hand froze in Mike’s hair. “There was no look,” he says quickly.
Lucas’ eyes narrow, and he waves vaguely. “Oh, there was so a look.” He widens his eyes, rolling them askance with a little inhale in what Will hates to admit is a remarkably accurate rendition of the emotions that ran through his head — a mix of Oh God, please stop talking, and Oh, my God, do you ever shut up?
Max snickers, rolling onto her other elbow to smack Will’s calf. “Hey! Wheeler! Not gonna defend yourself?”
Will holds his breath, feeling Mike shift between his legs to look at Max, his head tilted back lazily. Will can sense the undercurrent of doubt shivering beneath the feigned disinterest as he finally speaks up: “Honestly, Max, I feel like it’s weirder to try to convince my ex that I’m a good kisser. I know my skillset.”
The end of his sentence is cut off by an uproarious fit of giggles from the couch as El begins to nearly cry with laughter. Will hisses out an exhale, feeling in the air the cracking of Mike’s already tenuous nonchalance. Will’s face burns, and with it reckless anger burns in his chest. He finds himself speaking, the drinks letting his guard down enough for words to slip out.
“He doesn’t have to defend himself,” he says, words directed at Max but gaze flickering toward his sister. “She’s wrong, Mike’s not a bad kisser. At all.” His voice wavers slightly on the last words, the taste of vodka dull and heavy on his tongue.
He sees Lucas’ eyes widen and his hand move in a jerky, aborted slice across his own throat before he even realises Dustin is speaking. “Yeah,” Dustin drawls obliviously, “but you haven’t kissed anybody else, man, how would you know?”
Lucas freezes, then groans, dropping his head into his hands.
Will’s pulse thumps in his ears, hot and pounding as blood rushes to his face and the last of his composure slips. He can’t even blame himself anymore — even without the alcohol he doesn’t think he could’ve held his tongue. “Have you considered that maybe it helps to be attracted to the person you’re kissing?” The words thunk heavily to the dusty carpeted floor. The air in the room grows fat with awkward silence.
Dustin flushes, looking down at El uncomfortably.
Will’s face reddens further. “Sorry,” he says, though he isn’t really. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
And he means that part, at least — he can almost hear the creaking of Mike’s tightly clenched jaw. Will’s stomach turns.
“O-okay.” Lucas nudges at the silence. “Let’s change the subject—”
“I’m gonna go.” Mike is standing, and for a moment he halts under the darting eyes of the room. And then his long legs are carrying him away and up the stairs with an uneven, ungainly rhythm.
El’s lip is quivering — in her drunken state it seems the last few minutes are only just sinking in. She blinks her glossy eyes, glancing over as Max says, “Well… that got… weird.”
Will’s fist, the one that moments ago had stalled and been deprived of its home in Mike’s hair, clenches. He stands abruptly. “I’m gonna follow him. Don’t wait up.”
Unlike Mike, he doesn’t hesitate, hands trembling as he lopes up the staircase. He catches the beginnings of bickering, Lucas’ dumbfounded voice reprimanding, “What the hell, man?”
“How was I supposed to know?” Dustin complained.
“The man’s gay!”
It all becomes chatter as Will closes the door.
As Will makes his way up to Mike’s room, Max crawls over to sit on the ground by El, reaching to grab her hand.
“Why didn’t you stop me—” Dustin groans.
“El,” Max says softly.
“I tried!” Lucas insists. “I didn’t realise until—”
“El,” Max repeats. “Are you okay?”
“So how did you expect me to—”
“I feel… stupid.” El’s voice breaks, and Dustin and Lucas go silent. Her eyes fill with tears that slowly slip down her cheeks. “I should not have said that.”
“Oh, shit,” Dustin curses sadly. “El…”
Lucas winces. “It’s not anybody’s fault,” he says uncertainly, glancing up the stairs at the closed door.
Will gently pushes open the door to Mike’s room. Mike glances up from his pacing, fingers tapping against his thigh, and continues burning a path in his dark merlot-coloured carpet.
“Hey,” Will says softly. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
Mike halts, looking at Will properly, blinking. “What? No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong.” His fingers drum the side of his leg, but his eyes are insistent.
Will shrugs, casting his gaze downward. “I shouldn’t have jumped in.”
“Yeah, well, I shouldn’t have tried to date a girl for like four years, so… I guess we can call it even.”
The words are bitter, and Will takes a few steps forward, catching Mike’s hands and stilling him. “Mike… you can’t blame yourself for—”
“Whatever. It’s fine. I’m overreacting. I totally ruined the party. Sorry.” He looks away.
Will wraps both of Mike’s long, slender hands in his smaller one, reaching with the other to softly touch his face. “No need to be sorry, Mike.”
He turns Mike’s face toward him, but Mike’s eyes remain downcast, eyelashes hiding his darting eyes, some turmoil tossing and turning beneath the surface, deeper than a dumb game spun out of control. Will tilts his head up and presses a gentle kiss to his warm lips, kissing him again, and again, on the twitching corner of his mouth and the soft, freckled skin of his cheek, and nudges him slowly to sit on the edge of the bed, still covering him in chaste kisses until they eventually pull apart.
His fingers trail along Mike’s jaw and his palm falls to rest against his neck, thumb tracing the side of his chin.
“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, at the sight of Mike’s shining eyes. “Are you okay?”
He’s seen Mike drunk enough times now to know he sometimes gets a bit… emotional, when his walls come down. Quick to be earnest, fond, sweet, but also vulnerable with his friends in a way he only usually is with Will, and even then it often takes some convincing before he feels he’s earned it. Regardless, Will can’t help the way his jaw drops when Mike asks, in a soft, cracking voice, “Am I… good at this? Do I make you feel good?”
Will blinks, gobsmacked. “Obviously?”
Mike continues insistently, tuning him out. “Because I know that El—”
“Mike!” Will squeezes Mike’s hands before releasing them to cradle his face, steering his focus fully to Will. “Mike, I meant what I said. You’re not a bad kisser at all, you’re a really good kisser, and I love to kiss you.” He feels himself barrelling down the hill at rapid speed, and welcomes the wild, tumbling descent. “I’d kiss you forever and ever and never come up for air if I could. Mike, I’d kiss you if the world were exploding. Mike, I’d—”
Mike knocks his forehead against Will’s, laughing and cutting him off. “Okay, okay! Jeez!” He giggles, their noses brushing, and murmurs, “Thanks. Me too. What you said.”
Will swallows, a smile curling across his face. “Yeah, I mean… it does help to, you know, be into it.” He hesitates, the familiar old foe Doubt creeping in. “You are into it, right?”
When Mike pauses, Will leans back slightly to examine him, heart lurching despite himself. Mike panics, seizing Will’s forearms where they’re still spanning the small distance between them.
“No, no, obviously I am!” he says earnestly. “You know that! You know I am. It’s just— I just…” He inhales sharply, index finger tapping a jittering beat on Will’s arm. “I think I know why I wasn’t good at kissing El?” At the look on Will’s face he jumps ahead. “No, I mean… besides being gay. Because I… did like kissing her.”
Will’s face flickers, confusion and a little hurt slipping past him. He schools his expression quickly, but Mike notices.
“Not, like…” He groans. “This is why I wasn’t gonna say anything. I just… I like kissing.” His wide eyes meet Will’s, glossy and the warmest brown. “I didn’t like when she’d… put her hands on me, like…” he gestures, hands flopping around, to his face and shoulders, “because it felt like… y’know. It’s more okay now, with no expectations, but then it reminded me I was, like, her boyfriend, and she expected me to want… whatever.”
Will scrunches up his nose, squinting an eye skeptically. “And kissing… didn’t?”
Mike sighs harshly, and Will puts his hands up, rubbing Mike’s upper arm soothingly. Mike’s hands fall from Will’s forearms to his lap. “I’m just trying to understand!” Will says, returning to resting his palms warmly at the base of Mike’s neck.
“Sorry,” Mike whispers. “It’s embarrassing. Can I just… God, I’ll just say it.” He hisses sharply between his teeth, and then it all comes out in a rush. “You’ve definitely noticed I like keeping my mouth busy and kissing El was like the exact same as chewing on a pen or something except better. But only better because it was, like, interactive.” His hands writhe in his lap, twisting and fidgeting distractedly.
Will has indeed noticed over the years — Mike chewing on his shirt as a kid until Karen managed to pester the habit out of him, or gnawing at his pencils until they were mangled splintering messes. He always found the habit itself endearing, despite wrinkling his nose at the result. And if his mind ever wandered, well… that was nobody’s business but his own.
He admittedly never thought of this, though. Mike’s face seems stuck in a perpetual wince as he continues.
“And I feel super weird and gross about it but that’s definitely why it wasn’t good for her, because I wasn’t attracted to her, like, at all but I really liked… doing stuff with my mouth.” He swallows hard and cringes, grimacing as he looks away.
Will nods slowly, his weighted-down gaze dropping to the mouth in question, red and nibbled at and shiny. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, okay. That makes sense.”
Mike looks up, brows knitted. “...Yeah?”
“Yeah!” Will nods, dragging his tipsy eyes away from Mike’s lips. “So… when you kiss me, what do you…” He hesitates. “Like, are you still…” He twists a finger through the curls at Mike’s nape, jutting his head meaningfully when words evade him.
“Uhhh…” Mike swallows, shoulders hunching. “I mean, with you I’m, like, actually really into it, so I just kind of do… what’s natural?” He tilts his head, furrowing his brow. “Except, I mean, when I figured out that the mouth thing was the only reason I liked kissing El, which, by the way!” He straightens abruptly, gaze intense and wild. “Totally screws with your head when you don’t know you’re gay! Like, I thought that was what being into it was supposed to be? Like, I thought the stuff people say about fireworks was just total bullshit, and that just… finding it kind of soothing and fun is the norm. Which, obviously, is not… the case.” He swallows hard and trails off at the sight of Will holding back a grin. “What?”
“Sorry,” Will says, “what was that about fireworks?
Mike flushes, and Will stifles a chuckle. “Shut up. Anyway. I thought it was normal to feel like that with El so I kind of let myself do… weird shit. That probably wasn’t… good. I mean, obviously it wasn’t. And I don’t do that when we kiss because I… realised kissing isn’t supposed to be, like… a fucking… baby teething.”
Will winces, his finger pausing its twirls. He takes a deep breath. “I’m almost certain… I don’t want to know what sort of weird shit you did while kissing my sister… but…”
Mike’s hands spring up to smother his face. “Oh God… I knew you’d ask. Curse your curious nature, Will Byers.” He smears his hands over his brilliantly pink cheeks. “Okay. Um… oh God.”
Will’s own hands slide up Mike’s neck to overlap his lanky ones, and he chuckles as he tries and fails to pull the stubborn shields away. “Mike,” he sighs, kissing the flushed parts of his face not hidden. “Mi-iiiiike. Come on. Tell me.” He presses a kiss to the freckled nose peeking out. “Tell me!”
“Oh, God!” Mike throws his hands out in defeat. “Okay! Fine! Um…” He drops his head onto Will’s shoulder with a thud, then slowly lifts it again to peer in his eyes. He glances away, avoiding eye contact. “I, like…”
Softening, Will says, “You don’t actually have to say if it’s that embarrassing.” Still, Mike’s right about his curious nature — his mind is swimming with questions that may haunt him if unanswered.
“No, no,” Mike says, waving him off. “It’s just… uncomfortable, y’know. Um.” He seems to brace himself, hands tightly gripping his knees. “I like… bit more, or like… chewed and sucked more.” Tossing his head back, he stares up at his ceiling blankly. “Ugh… I totally sucked on her tongue a bunch and it was so gross. And her bottom lip. Whatever.” He inhales shakily, suddenly pulling his head down as if his exposed neck became too vulnerable, making a face. “Sorry. Whatever. It’s gross. Ew.”
Will rubs the side of Mike’s neck soothingly, tilting his head and murmuring, “It’s not… Okay, it is, but it’s not, like…” He purses his lips. “It’s more gross because… she’s my sister and it’s weird to hear… that. But like…” Tentatively, he asks, “Did you like doing that?”
Mike’s eyes skirt around as he weighs the benefits of answering. “I mean… yeah, like I said, it was kind of… the main reason I liked kissing her.” A pained look flashes across his face. “God, I feel like such a piece of shit, like, she had no idea what was normal and what wasn’t and I totally used her for, like—”
“Hey,” Will says. “It’s okay. You guys are fine now, and you didn’t do anything… bad. You just weren’t… a great kissing teacher for her. It’s not the end of the world, Mike.”
Privately, he thinks, But I don’t want to imagine how her first kisses with Dustin went.
Mike peers up at him, and says hopefully, “Was better for you, right?” The attempt to encourage praise is almost pathetically transparent, but he still has a smug little smirk on his face.
Will sighs, laughing. “Yes, Mike.” He rolls his eyes fondly when Mike preens, then hesitates. “I mean, but… that’s kind of… why I asked. Like…” Will swallows, his brain buzzing with vague, tipsy thoughts of Mike biting and licking at his mouth, sucking until it’s shiny and red and swollen. His stomach flips, and he looks down unsurely, wringing his hands where they’re looped behind Mike’s neck. “If you want to… do that stuff,” he continues hesitantly. “It’s… fine. With me.”
“Will, no.” Mike’s answer is immediate, but despite the firm denial his voice wavers, slightly. “You don’t… you don’t want me to,” he says. “I mean, you heard El, it wasn’t… good. It’s fine. I like kissing you, like, so much.” Mike’s eyes are so wide, so earnest, and Will just wants to throw himself on top of him with a huff and kiss him silly.
He contains himself.
“It’s not like with El,” Mike continues. “I don’t need to make it good by like… using you like a chew toy.”
“Yeah, but like… I want you to.” Will flushes under Mike’s gaze, and he stutters, “Like, if you want to. If it’s… nice for you. Then I’m cool with that. More than cool, actually.
“Oh.” Mike blinks, and gives his head a little shake, reorienting. “Oh. But… what if it sucks? Like, what if it feels gross? I don’t want to… like… make it weird, and then…” He trails off, swallowing hard. What if he starts and Will makes him stop? If he gets a taste of his weird not-really-kissing thing with someone he’s actually into one time, and never again? Oh, God, what if it’s weird for Will to be kissed how Mike used to kiss his sister? “It’s not like a…” His voice cracks, and he clenches his fingers tightly. “It’s not a sexy thing, it’s just like a weird me thing.”
“Mike!” Will sighs fondly, pulling one hand in to cup Mike’s cheek. “That’s okay! I get it, I just think I’d like… anything you do, because…” He flushes despite himself, gaze darting down and back up to flicker between Mike’s attentive eyes. “I like you. And…” he says quietly, “I like when you do stuff you like. And maybe… maybe it’ll be better because you… actually like me.” He shrugs.
Mike inhales shakily, nodding. “Oh. Okay.” He nods again. “Yeah, okay.”
“So, do you want to…?”
Mike looks up, wide-eyed. “Like now?”
“Oh!” Will considers. “I mean, if you want…”
“Yes,” Mike says quickly, shifting closer, their knees bumping. His eyes are fixed intently on Will’s mouth. “Yeah, okay. Their lips brush, and he mumbles against his lips, “Sorry if this sucks.”
Will chuckles, and then Mike is kissing him.
It starts normally, soft, open-mouthed kisses in a gentle push and pull. Will rubs his hand along Mike’s cheek soothingly to rest it again on the side of his neck. Mike’s tongue tentatively traces Will’s bottom lip, and Will hums, parting his lips encouragingly.
Mike makes a little noise and shifts closer, pushing his tongue in. His rapid pulse begins to ease against Will’s palm. Will relaxes too, not really kissing back so much as allowing Mike to do whatever he wants and learning what that means. As Will’s fingers gently twirl the dark locks at his nape, Mike sighs and seems to realise he’s not being pulled away. He licks Will’s bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and lapping at the plush flesh.
Will hums again, encouraging him though the sensation is kind of odd, and feels Mike slump slightly, bringing Will’s hands to his jaw instead of the crooks of his neck. Will makes a curious noise, and Mike just huffs, kisses growing sloppier as he melts against Will.
Keeping his mouth relaxed, Will gazes at his boyfriend as he licks again between Will’s parted lips and beckons his tongue into his mouth. Will rolls with it, and Mike whines as it slides in so willingly, rubbing his own tongue against it. And then sudden suction draws a choking noise from Will, though he should’ve really expected it from how Mike described this. He doesn’t pull away, letting his tongue be dragged from his own mouth into Mike’s, and suddenly Mike goes entirely limp, sliding down against Will’s body but still clinging to his tongue.
Will blinks uncertainly, feeling a bit dumb with his tongue out like this and the tugging growing mildly uncomfortable, but then drops his hands to wrap loosely around his boyfriend and lead them both down onto the bed. He pulls his legs up and actually drags Mike, like a ragdoll, onto him. Mike rolls onto his side, curling against him, his eyes near closed all the while with lashes fluttering hazily. He released Will’s tongue as they fell, and chases after him now with lazy, wet kisses. They settle, Will’s head resting gently on a pillow as Mike laps at his mouth before finally circling his tongue and pulling it back in. Will goes without complaint, holding Mike in his place with one leg tossed over Will’s.
Mike whines softly, sucking Will’s tongue in a pulsing rhythm that makes Will’s stomach twist hotly. A minute passes, then two, and still Mike is suckling at him, spit trickling from his mouth. Will shivers as it glides down his neck, cool and slow, tongue growing tired from being stuck out so long. But Mike’s fingers are twisting in the fabric of his shirt and he feels so relaxed and warm against him, so Will allows it to continue.
Mike’s lips make a wet smacking sound as he sucks harder, then licks around Will’s tongue, relaxing into him and becoming, somehow, even more limp. Will’s not sure he’s ever seen his best friend so pliable, so at ease. Mike whimpers, fully whimpers, and Will’s brain might be melting and steaming with the effort of not thinking about other things Mike could suck on. He tentatively runs a hand along Mike’s side from his hip, settling on his shoulder blade. Mike shifts, another soft noise escaping him, hips rocking slightly against Will’s thigh. The moment it registers, Will’s brain short-circuits, but he has enough sense to pull Mike even closer.
Mike releases his tongue, mouth sliding along it as it slowly retreats, and Will rubs it over the roof of his mouth and smacks his lips slightly, adjusting to having his achy tongue back in his own mouth. And then Mike’s wet lips glide along Will’s before he’s once again licking the skin below Will’s lip and sucking at it. He hasn’t stopped making these soft whining sounds, barely audible except as little high-pitched sighs, and he seems so totally unaware — of that, and of the way he’s still easily humping Will’s leg.
Will’s hand slides cautiously down Mike’s body, settling in the dip of his lower back, where he hesitates. Mike hums around Will’s bottom lip, and Will uncertainly drifts lower, eyes fixed on his double-vision view of Mike’s soft, freckled face, wondering when there’s no clear reaction, despite how odd the thought seems, whether he’s aware of Will or anything else right now. His hand rests at the very top of the curve of Mike’s ass, and he tentatively guides him in the gentle rolling of his hips.
He feels another dribble of spit begin to pool in the hollow of his collarbones as Mike whimpers, louder than before, hips jolting and teeth nipping at Will’s lip. Will groans, heat coiling tightly at the almost-pain mixing with the stuttering rhythm of Mike’s hips, the feeling of him pressed to his thigh. Yet Mike seems utterly lost in a trance, and as his lips part, licking up and swallowing the spit pooling around Will’s tongue, Will realises with horrible reluctance that he really should end this here.
He mumbles Mike’s name into his mouth, and Mike ignores him or, more likely, doesn’t even register it, mouthing at his lips slack-jawed and dazed. “Mike,” Will says, firmer, pulling back, his voice cracking a little as Mike whines plaintively. His hand laces through Mike’s hair, and he gently strokes his warm cheek with his thumb. “Mike, are you with me?”
Mike’s eyes flutter open sleepily, and he looks up at Will with huge dark pupils and a hazy gaze. He drifts closer, dipping in to try and kiss Will again, and Will chuckles, turning his face away slightly. Mike makes a soft grumbling noise, brow furrowing pathetically.
“Hey,” Will whispers, a fond smile curling his lips as he trails his other hand up to cup both sides of his face. “Mike. We have to go back downstairs eventually.”
Mike blinks, slow and unsure. His lips part, glossy and swollen red, and Will’s heart flutters, wondering at his wide-eyed, hazy earnestness. Despite himself, he darts forward, this time taking control and kissing him back. Mike keens, high in the back of his throat, melting into the kiss with no technique whatsoever and licking at his mouth like a puppy.
Another minute or two pass, filled with the glossy slide of lips and tongues, and when they finally separate for air, Will’s head is spinning and Mike keeps blinking dazedly.
“Woah,” he finally breathes, the warmth of his air hitting Will’s lips.
It’s the first thing he’s said since they started, and Will tilts his head, running his fingers through Mike’s hair. “Woah?”
Mike doesn’t seem to hear him, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Woah,” he repeats. It’s more of an exhale than a word, and Will shifts, steering Mike up so they’re both sitting, knees bumping together.
“Woah,” Mike says again, and this time there’s some intention to it. He blinks again, fast, and presses a hand to his forehead like he’s dizzy. “Jesus.”
Will chuckles, and Mike’s eyes dart to him, the warm brown more present than before. “Good?” Will asks, heart thumping.
Mike blinks again, eyelashes fluttering, and focuses his hazy gaze with some effort on Will. His eyes sharpen further and Will can clearly hear his unamused grumble through the way his brows furrow: What do you think?
He laughs again, unable to help the giddy exhale from escaping, and grins at Mike’s flushed face.
“Can that… can that be, like… can that be a thing?” Mike asks suddenly. “Can we… do that. More. Woah.” He blinks hard, shaking his head again. “Like, not all the time, or like…” He flushes, noticing the drool dripping down his chin, and wipes his mouth in a flustered rush. “Jesus,” he murmurs. Suddenly he looks worried, wide eyes darting up to Will’s. “Sorry, was it… was it okay? For you? Sorry.”
“Mike!” Will’s cheeks burn at his own enthusiasm, hands curling in his lap. “I… liked that. I really liked… that.” He gulps under Mike’s intense, focused gaze. “And you,” he admits, as if it’s a secret. “I liked how you…” Swallowing hard, he pushes onward. “I liked how you got… because of that. Like, all…” Words fail him. He gestures, and Mike blushes furiously.
“O-okay.” Mike’s voice cracks, and he coughs. “Okay, cool.” His flustered state sets Will’s heart whirring giddily — he feels warmed by the thought that he’s the first to see Mike so relaxed, so able to just be. Mike shifts, swallowing audibly, and his face suddenly flushes even brighter. “Maybe… maybe it is kind of a…”
Will follows his gaze, mouth going dry. He looks away quickly as Mike curls in on himself, arms crossing to hide the tent in his jeans. Will’s thighs tense, stomach coiling. “...Sexy thing,” he finishes for him, his voice cracking embarrassingly.
Mike lets out a punched noise, a weird little breathy hum of agreement, and Will nods firmly before all the air can be sucked out of the room.
“Okay,” he says. His throat feels very dry. He coughs. “We should probably…”
“Yeah.” Mike nods quickly, hair flopping with his vigour. “Yeah, it’s been… We should… go.” He sits up straight, collecting himself, then whispers, one final time with feeling, “Woah. I’m just gonna…” he gestures vaguely, “calm down.” His voice breaks again on the word calm.
“Yeah,” Will breathes. “Same.”
Mike’s head whips over to look, eyes wide and darting between Will’s lap and face. Will yanks his knees up to guard his dignity. “Mike!”
“Sorry!” Mike flushes, turning and darkly muttering something about fairness that Will, pink-cheeked, ignores.
When they leave the room a few minutes later, Will is hiding a big cheesy grin, casting little glances at Mike. His profile is soft in the dim light. He catches Will’s eye and his cheeks redden in a pleased blush. Their smiles fade as they reach the door to the basement.
It quietly creaks open, and immediately Dustin’s voice leaps out at them. “—stimulating your brain like being on drugs!”
El giggles as Dustin kisses her again with an exaggerated smacking noise.
“God, they’re sickeningly sweet,” Max murmurs, casting a look at Lucas, an amused twinkle in her eye. He smiles from the chair across from her.
Mike and Will pad downstairs. Upon a groaning sound from the old wooden steps, the party looks up.
Will’s eyes dart over their faces. “I’m sorry for snapping at—”
“Will!” El jumps up from where she was curled in Dustin’s arms. “Mike, I’m sorry for—”
“No, no, I’m sorry—”
They all stop, breaking into giggles.
“You’re all sorry, there we go.” Max’s tone betrays her relief at the dissipating tension. “Resolved.”
“We’re sorry too, guys,” Lucas says. “We shouldn’t have pushed.”
El nods, wide eyes earnest. Mike tilts his head at Lucas gratefully, and tugs Will down the last steps and toward the rest of the party.
“So… you two were gone for a while, huh?” Lucas smacks his lips, grinning. “Too busy for the rest of us?”
Dustin drops his jaw exaggeratedly, gasping. “Dude! Uncool! Haven’t we learned anything?” His affronted demeanour is slightly sabotaged when he looks up, grinning, to welcome El back into his arms.
Lucas raised his hands innocently. “I’m just saying, man! Look at them!” He gestures at his own lips. “He’s totally been gnawing Will’s face off!”
Max groans. “Lucas, stop!”
“Will thinks it’s funny!” He waves at Will’s smug smile.
Will flushes at being caught, and ducks his head as he steps over a bag of chips on the floor. “I— I didn’t say that.”
“You two were gone for a while, I will admit,” Max teases. “I had to listen to this guy—” she jerks her thumb at Dustin, “—explain in super intense detail the science of kissing. While somebody looks like he was getting a real hands-on lesson.” She wags her eyebrows.
Will throws himself back into his chair with a whine. “Max…” Despite his plaintive voice, he’s chuckling. Mike drops onto the carpet at Will’s feet like before, kicking aside the chips and leaning against his legs.
“I’m just supposed to ignore this,” Lucas mutters. “Okay.”
Mike grins, one long finger tracing little circles on Will’s calf. “Ignore what, Sinclair? Something to say?”
And now that Mike has engaged the hesitation breaks.
“Don’t even, Mike,” Lucas warns, poking a finger at him accusingly. “You’re like his dog, man, look at you. You’re literally on the floor.”
“Yeah, in my own basement, I might add,” Mike protests, twisting against Will’s leg to face his foe. “Because you assholes take all the chairs!”
“I will switch with you right now,” Lucas says firmly.
Mike hesitates, narrowing his eyes. “…No.”
Lucas crows with laughter.
“Whipped!” Dustin whoops, snickering as he uses El’s long hair to mime the crack of a whip. El giggles madly, and at the sight of her laughter, any last tension seems to slip away.
“Alright, alright,” Mike gripes, his smile audible. Will’s fingers return to gently lacing through his hair. “El, you’re up. Lucas or Will?”
She beams, turning on her victim. “Truth or dare?”
