Chapter Text
When Mike thinks about it, it’s his own fault- it really is. He’s the one who suggested the hangout, he’s the one who decided to sneak the 12-pack of beer instead of their usual 6, and he’s the one who agreed to Dustin’s stupid, stupid idea. So, as much as he hates to admit it, he really did bring this upon himself.
“What’s the most number of times you’ve jerked off in one day?”
“What the fuck kind of question is that!?” Mike stands, reaching over the table to snatch the card out of Lucas’s hand to read for himself.
“I don’t know, I’m just reading off the card!” Lucas raises his hands in surrender.
The basement is cool, the AC working overtime to combat the mid-summer Indiana heat. It’s a stark contrast from when they were at the arcade earlier, the heat suffocating as it radiated off the maze of arcade games. They’re back to their usual summer schedule, their days now taken up with bike rides, arcade games, DND campaigns; hands sticky with soda and sweat as they run around town to make up for lost time.
So it comes as a surprise to nobody when they find themselves in Mike’s basement at the end of the day, pockets freshly emptied of coins and a new high score on Galaga printed across the top of the game in bold.
They’d just finished the campaign they’ve been working on for the past few weeks- the final showdown between the party and Tiamat ending with a beautiful nat 20 roll from Max that weakened her defense enough for Will to cast the final blow.
Campaign complete, pizza ordered, the party had spent the better part of the evening gathered around the TV rewatching Star Wars.
It’s nice. It’s normal, which is weird for Mike to think. The fucking apocalypse happened, and in the aftermath, they’re sitting watching a movie. Honestly, it scares Mike: how peaceful things have been lately. Fourteen months since the world almost ended, and everything’s settled back into an eerie sense of calm.
Not to say that everything is the same. The scars still linger throughout the town, manifesting as cracks in the asphalt and the party’s constant high alert, and the space of a missing person is a wound that Mike knows will never truly heal. But hell isn't actively trying to claw its way into Hawkins anymore, and honestly, at this point, Mike’ll take what he can get.
And so, it was late when Dustin brought it up. They were already a few beers in- a celebration for finishing their latest campaign; the air warm and full of life. A nearly finished box of pizza sat on the table, next to a slew of half-drunk beer cans and two empty shooter bottles of vodka that Max somehow managed to get hold of.
It was only after they had finished their rewatch of The Empire Strikes Back that Dustin reached into his bag and pulled out a small, card-sized box, its print bold and colorful.
“Truth or dare,” Dustin had explained with a mischievous grin, and it didn’t take much convincing after that for the party to agree; something that Mike now regrets very, very much.
“These questions are weird as hell.” Will leans over the table and retrieves the box, flipping it over to peer at the description. “Whose idea was this again?”
“Excuse me, it was my idea. And it’s a damn good one.” Dustin shoots back. “We need to do normal teenager shit for a change. No demogorgons or Vecna or whatever the hell.”
Max scoffs at him as she reads the box over Will’s shoulder. “Where the fuck did you even find these cards? Some kind of sex store?”
“No!” Dustin pauses for a second, then looks away. “Steve let me borrow them.”
Mike laughs. “Yeah, you might as well have gotten them from a sex store then.” Dustin whirls around to face Mike, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest.
“You are avoiding the question!”
“Because the question is dumb!”
“It’s truth or dare, Mike. All the questions are dumb.”
“Ugh, fine!” Mike leans back against the couch in defeat. “Five times. There, happy?”
“That’s it?” Lucas scoffs. “My record’s nine.”
“Nine? How the hell did you-“
“Ew, ok, stop,” Max interrupts, covering her ears. “I don’t need a play-by-play of everyone’s jerking habits!”
“You’re just jealous that you don’t have a dick to jerk off.”
“Oh my god, ok it’s my turn to ask.” Max flips over a card as everyone silently agrees not to question Lucas’ quick response because… seriously… how the fuck does- nine? Mike really doesn’t want to know. Max sighs and reaches over Lucas’s lap in search of another slice of pizza as she reads the next card aloud. “Mike. Truth or dare?”
“Truth.”
She scoffs again. “Yeah, of course you’d go for truth.”
It takes a second for the jab to land. “Well yea- wait, hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
Max ignores him.
“Truth. Who is the most physically attractive person in this room?”
Mike doesn’t hesitate.
“Easy. Will.”
A noise of outrage leaves Lucas' mouth. “Will?”
“Well, it sure as hell isn’t gonna be you!”
“Well, what about Max?” Mike turns to look at Max, making a point to look her up and down before grimacing.
“Yeah, my point still stands.”
Max punches his shoulder.
“Ow!”
“She’s literally the only girl here,” Lucas gestures to the group.
“Yeah, and Will’s still prettier than her,” Mike turns back to Max with a smirk. He’s expecting to see anger or even a touch of exasperation at his jab, but he’s shocked to instead be met with confusion, a question in Max’s eyes as she tilts her head in thought. It throws Mike off. “What?”
“Nothing!” Max waves a hand in dismissal, turning to nod in Will’s direction. “Will’s turn. Go.”
Mike frowns, not expecting that reaction from Max.
It’s true. Objectively, Will is the best-looking one out of the group. It’s something Mike’s noticed before. Hell, it’s something everyone’s noticed before. A fact of life: the sky is blue, Max is an asshole, Will Byers is a pretty guy.
He doesn't think about it any more than that. If this is another thing he and Max disagree on, then that’s just another time that Mike has the satisfaction of being right.
“Will, you’re up. Truth or dare?”
Will glances down at the deck of cards next to him. “Dare.”
He slides the deck closer to himself and flips the top one over. Mike watches as his eyes skim the words before his expression falters, and it might just be their proximity, but Mike is sure he notices the subtle way Will’s breath catches. He opens his mouth once, closes it again, and clears his throat.
“Well?” Dustin prompts from across the circle. Will swallows, eyes glued to the card.
“Call the person to your right a pet name of your choice. Continue to do so for the remainder of the game.”
Will’s body turns to face him because it’s them, so of course, they're sitting next to each other. His eyes won’t meet Mike’s.
“Uh-”
“Go for it! I don’t mind,” Mike cuts him off a bit too loudly, not wanting to discourage Will in any way by seeming hesitant.
Since coming out, he can tell Will’s been extra cautious around the party treating him differently, almost as if he’s afraid to do anything that could be taken the wrong way. He sees it in the way his eyes flicker hesitantly between them whenever the conversation switches to relationships; he sees it in the way he’s extra cautious about his touch- almost as if he pulls away before giving the others a chance to do it to him first. Almost as if he believes that they would. Mike hates it.
He hates the idea that Will thinks that way- that he’s been forced to think that way. That the world had taught him that there’d be a limit to their understanding- that he’d lose who he loves now because of who he might love later.
He misses the way their shoulders would brush when they would sit next to each other, the way their feet would tangle together under the table, or the way he would catch his eye across the room and huddle together under blankets while watching movies. He misses being close to Will without the telltale look in his eye that Mike has grown to associate with Will thinking too much. He fucking hates the idea that Will might be overthinking his interactions with the party, especially with something Mike knows they all would never have a problem with.
He is totally fine with the fact that Will is gay; there’d be no world where he wouldn’t be alright with it. Will’s his best friend- always had been, always will be. He’s still the same, incredible person- Mike just knows more about him now, which is great; it really is. He’s always loved learning new things about Will- what he likes and doesn’t like, his favorite food, his favorite songs- and he’s always loved the smile that Will gets when he surprises him with the things that he’s remembered. So in his mind, this is perfect! It’s another fact he can add to his library: “Will likes guys!” and he gets the same warm feeling that he always does when he adds this to his mental collection.
So of course he’s 100% unbothered about it, and he wants Will to know exactly just how unbothered he is.
Will nudges him, speaking under his breath. “Are you… Sure you’re ok with it?”
“Uh yeah, duh.” Mike shifts to face him fully. “It’s just a dare! It doesn’t, like, mean anything,” he smiles, hoping that it comes off as supportive and comforting.
Will nods, an unconvincing thing, especially with the way his eyes dart wildly around at the rest of the party. He takes an audible breath and leans forward slightly. Mike finds that he’s holding his breath and immediately orders himself to breathe normally.
Will barely opens his mouth as the word leaves his mouth in a rush. “Baby,” he mumbles noncommittally, his eyes not meeting Mike’s. The moment the words leave his lips, the party erupts around him.
“Oh, booo! Come on!” Dustin yells. Lucas nods aggressively in agreement.
“Yeah, we all actually did ours! You can’t just half-ass it and chicken out!”
“I did the dare!” Will exclaims, throwing his hands up with exaggerated exasperation.
“That was shit.” Max rolls her eyes. “You could have more chemistry with a sock.”
“Lucas definitely has more chemistry with his sock.” Dustin teases, and Lucas lunges forward to cover his mouth with his hand.
“You know what, Dustin-”
Will jumps up. “Ok, ok! Fine, I’ll do it again.” And Mike is grateful for the fact, especially since Lucas looks like he’s seconds away from strangling Dustin.
“For real this time,” Dustin emphasizes after he pushes Lucas off of him, and Will rolls his eyes in response. He turns his head to face Mike again, and he flashes him what he hopes to be an encouraging smile. Will smiles back tightly, his eyes flickering across Mike’s face before inching closer.
He leans down, warm breath ghosting over the back of Mike’s ear and-
“Baby,”
His voice is a gravely whisper, his scent sweet and overwhelming-
And Mike is suddenly very aware of every part of his body: his fingers resting on his thighs, the blush he’s very sure is rising to his face, the tingle on the back of his neck from where Will’s breath still lingers.
It’s all too much and so not enough at the same time, and all he can focus on is the sudden absence of Will as he pulls back, and Will's hands, and Will, Will, Will.
And Mike quickly comes to the mortifying realization that, while a good portion of blood had rushed to his face, another good portion of blood flow had gone… elsewhere.
And that was… nice. Ok, that was nice- Mike’ll admit it. But, Mike rationalizes, it would be nice to hear anybody whispering pet names in my ear.
Mike leans back, his eyes flickering everywhere except for Will, and hopes with all his strength that nobody decides to look down.
Will leans back, face scarlet. His eyes flicker across Mike’s face, a split-second look of confusion before returning to a neutral expression.
Mike tries for a weak smile.
“Yeah,” his voice cracks, and he winces, clearing his throat. “See? No big deal!”
“You don’t seem convinced,” Max points out drily, and Mike flicks a card at her from across the circle.
“Shut up and go already.”
“It’s actually not my turn-“
“Just ask a damn question.”
“Fine! Dustin.”
“Truth.”
“Ugh, boring!” She scans the card and rolls her eyes. “When was the last time you watched porn?”
“Uh, I don't know?”
“Great, moving on.” She turns back to Mike. “Mike, truth or dare?”
“What the fuck? I just went! Twice.”
“And you’re about to go again,” she waves a card aggressively in front of him, and Mike scoffs, making no move to continue.
“This is so not fair! You can’t just change the order whenever you want!”
“Yes, I can.”
“It doesn’t work like that!”
Will sighs. “Mike, just-”
“Ah!” Dustin slams his hands down on the table, the eager look in his eyes a telltale sign that he’s been waiting for this. “Nuh uh. You refer to Mike with a pet name for the rest of the game, remember?” He taps the discarded card, and Will groans, turning towards Mike.
“Right— Love, can you please just go?”
Mike freezes at the word- the way it sounds so natural coming from Will’s mouth. It sounds real. Believable. Almost as if Will could actually call him that and it wouldn’t be anything too out of the ordinary.
He almost forgets the point he was trying to make until he sees Max’s smile grow larger from across the table, and he realizes he doesn’t have the energy to deal with that too.
“Uh, yeah, fine, whatever.” He tears his eyes away from Will. “Dare.” Max doesn’t look down at the card.
“Fuck, marry, kill. Will, Dustin, Lucas.”
“What!?” Overlapping noises of outrage come from the three boys in question. Mike doesn’t even think about it.
“Fuck Lucas, marry Will, kill Dustin.”
“Hey!” Dustin throws his hands up in the air, now obviously more upset about his bruised pride than any doubts he might have had about the question.
“Actually, wait, you’re good for some things.” Mike nods thoughtfully. “You’re smart. Occasionally. Fuck Dustin, kill Lucas.”
“I’m still not happy with this arrangement!”
“Yeah, neither am I.”
“Fine! Fuck Will, marry Will, and then I’ll kill you both. There. Happy?”
Mike’s eyes flicker to where Max hums her approval, as if content with his answer, and leans back. Dustin and Lucas are still arguing in the background, but Mike’s eyes are still trained on Max. He hates the smug look on her face, almost as if he just proved a point for her, but no part of him wants to ask her and encourage her further. He rolls his eyes and tries to forget it when Will taps him on the shoulder.
“Mike-” Will catches himself. “…Baby.” He says it softly, and Mike feels the color rush back to his face. He points to his left. “Can you pass me the cards, please?”
Mike barely comprehends the second half of the sentence, his mind unhelpfully replaying the way Will referred to him as “baby” over and over again.
It takes him a solid three seconds of staring at Will before what he said finally clicks.
“Oh, yeah! Yes, of course.” He fumbles with the deck, nails scraping against the wooden table as he tries to pick them up. Max raises an eyebrow. Mike ignores her.
He passes Will the cards.
“Max, truth or-“
“Dare,” she smirks before he can finish. “Obviously.”
Mike rolls his eyes and turns towards Will expectantly. His heart soars at the mischievous glint in his eyes.
Will looks at Max. “Oh, you’re gonna hate me.”
“Try me, Byers.”
“Let someone at the table make you a mystery drink.”
There’s silence for a second.
“Oh no.” Max’s voice is filled with dread.
“Oh yes.” Mike’s grin grows at an exponential pace as he stares at Will’s finger, pointed very clearly at him. His chair scrapes against the floor as he stands and turns towards the stairs. “Be right back!”
Two minutes later, concoction in hand, he stumbles down the stairs and reappears next to Max. He places the glass in front of her, a sickly-looking, creamy-brown sludge at the bottom of the cup. Mike looks entirely too pleased with himself. “Ta da!”
“Mike, this looks vile.”
Dustin leans over to stare down at the drink.
“Holy shit, what did you put in here?”
“That looks gross,” Lucas adds from his spot across the table, then wrinkles his nose. “I can smell it from over here.”
“Bottoms up!” Mike pats Max on the back with forced enthusiasm. She stares down at the drink, grimaces, and takes a deep breath before plugging her nose and downing the shot. A collective eugh comes from the group.
“Oh my god, Mike, what the fuck did you put in here?” Max doubles over, coughing. Dustin smacks her back a couple of times.
Mike's smile just grows. “Olive juice, ice cream, vinegar, and whisky,” Mike says lightly. “Oh, and orange juice. Fifty-fifty chance it’s expired.”
“Only you would come up with a combination like that. Holy shit.” She closes her eyes, face screwed up in disgust, and tries not to gag.
“Nice job, Mike. You’ve poisoned my girlfriend.”
Max throws a handful of cards in Mike’s direction. “I’m never choosing dare again.”
——
Mike tries his absolute hardest to act normally for the rest of the night.
It’s not like it’s that difficult: they continue with the game as they had been, and nothing too crazy occurs. Will continues to call him “baby”, or “my love”, or “sweetheart”, and Mike’ll freeze for a second as the word sinks in. But it's not noticeable. At least, Mike doesn’t think it is.
The thing is, Will always makes eye contact with him as he says it. He’ll ask Mike to grab a drink for him from across the table, or whisper a joke to him, staring him right in the eyes as he smiles and refers to him as “my love”.
But by the time Mike turns back to hand Will what he’s looking for, he’s already looked away, and Mike is left with only the memory of his words echoing in his head.
And it’s so casual too: the tone of his words. Like Mike can almost forget that it’s just part of their game. It still fills him with a warm feeling every time it happens, just like the first time, and it’s becoming harder and harder to remember this is only a means to an end. He can almost anticipate it at this point. Will opens his mouth, and Mike doesn’t realize until later how he holds his breath while waiting for the words.
Max is annoying as ever, always quick to taunt him at the slightest hesitation. And while half of him can’t wait for the night to be over so she can finally leave, half of him doesn’t want the night to end at all.
Lucas’ watch buzzes at half past eleven, and he stands up, declaring that it’s his “duty” to bring Max back before his curfew, and they should probably head back. Dustin agrees, and Mike and Will follow the others up the stairs to say goodbye.
“See? Truth or dare. It was fun, right?” Dustin almost trips over the last stair while trying to stuff the cards back into the box.
“Not as fun as DND,” Will mutters to Mike under his breath, and he can’t help but laugh.
“Sure.” Max rolls her eyes. “Make sure Steve gets those cards back, though. He’s probably missing them.”
Dustin flips her off and stomps out the door towards his bike.
“Glad you had a fun time tonight, Mike,” Max smirks and follows Dustin out the door, Lucas in tow.
Mike doesn't really get it, but if she’s smirking, it’s probably not a good thing. “Hey, what's that supposed to mean?” She spins around and starts walking backwards as she shrugs.
“Have fun, Wheeler!”
“See you tomorrow!” Lucas calls back to them, then turns to put his arm over Max’s shoulder and walks alongside her to his car. Mike just rolls his eyes and disregards whatever she’s on about, instead pushing the door shut behind them and turning to face Will in the quiet of his foyer.
“Sleepover?”
Will grins. “Obviously.”
They scramble back down the stairs to the basement and get their sleeping bags set up. Will picks up the extra blankets from the floor and lays them on the couch, and Mike throws down some pillows for them to use.
They settle in on the floor, both tucked into sleeping bags, pressed against each other as they read comics- Will holding the flashlight and Mike turning the pages. He’s picked up Will’s reading cadence over the years of reading together, so he knows how long to wait after he finishes reading before turning the page.
He gets through three chapters before the light dips slightly and Will’s breathing evens out. Mike closes the book and gently takes the flashlight out of Will’s hand to switch it off.
And now, in the darkness with Will’s soft breathing coming from right next to him, Mike just can’t stop thinking about it.
He doesn’t know why it’s such a big deal to him, honestly. It was a stupid dare in a stupid game. Something insignificant- something he definitely shouldn’t be losing sleep over. But he can’t stop imagining what it would be like to hear Will’s voice calling him “baby” in broad daylight; to hear the words “my love” directed at him as they go about their usual routine.
It’s not weird- it’s not like he’s imagining Will doing anything crazy; in fact, Will had already done the most ridiculous part in his basement anyway. And Mike’s pretty confident he’d be imagining these scenarios with whoever else he would have had to do this stupid dare with. It just seems extra believable with Will because they spend so much time together so it’s all the more realistic.
Mike sighs, then stops when he realizes his definitely-not-a-problem is quite loud and Will is asleep right next to him. He turns on his side to face Will, then turns again to face away, then turns back again before finally settling on lying on his back. He stares at the ceiling and forces himself to think about something else- anything at all. He closes his eyes and tries to plan his next campaign, which is quickly interrupted by imaginary-Will’s voice from next to him calling him “sweetheart” as he suggests a change of setting. Mike gives up.
Fuck.
He turns back on his side to face Will- his eyes closed with Will’s voice playing in a quiet loop in his mind.
—-
It’s dark, because of course it is in this godforsaken place. There was never any light in the upside-down except for the flashlights they would bring, a beam that was never quite strong enough to cut through the darkness for further than five feet.
Mike takes a cautious step forward. He’s the only one on patrol in this area tonight- Hopper, Lucas, and Steve all continued into the base, and Will and the others had stayed aboveground. He is, effectively, alone, which is something he was never great at.
The snap of a branch breaking comes from somewhere on his left, and his breath catches. He whirls around, his flashlight cutting through the black, searching.
“Mike?” He stumbles backwards, away from the voice. It sounds distant but-
“Mike?” It’s closer, but weaker. More fragile- out of breath, but still familiar. He shines the flashlight in a circle frantically. It sounds like…Will.
But that’s not possible- Will is aboveground. Will is safe. Will is…
Mike stops.
Will is right in front of him.
“Will? What the hell, what are you-” He aims his flashlight down and chokes on his words.
Will is covered in blood. Head to toe, drenched in a dark red, his clothes glued to his skin.
“Mike,” His voice sounds raw and tired, like he’s been screaming for ages. Which doesn’t make sense- if he had made any noise, Mike would’ve almost certainly heard him. Tear tracks line his face, clearing the blood smeared on his cheeks, and his eyes are red and bloodshot. The blood on his neck and body has started to dry, and Mike can’t figure out how long he’s been here- waiting, yelling-
“Oh my god, Will, what happened?” He’s frantic. He doesn't know what to do; he doesn’t know what’s wrong, doesn't know how to fix it. “Will, talk to me!” His voice doesn’t sound like his anymore, and he’s shaking. Mike looks back up, only to be met with Will’s lifeless eyes, and it’s too fucking late. He’s too fucking late, and Will was waiting for him- trusting him- to come help. And he failed.
He tries to breathe, but his lungs have disappeared. His nose wont work, his mouth won’t work- nothing fucking works and his eyes are so full of tears and the darkness is so palpable even his fucking flashlight won’t do shit and Will’s blood is on his hands- his best friend is dead and it’s all his fucking fault he couldnt help Will he’s dead Will is dead Will is dead his best friend is-
The feeling of a cold hand on his shoulder causes him to jump backward, thrashing around to free himself from the grip, and his eyes shoot open.
“Mike, Mike, hey.” A voice- Will’s voice, strong and solid and alive- cuts through the static. Mike reaches up, searching for something solid to hold, and finds Will’s hands resting on his shoulder. “It’s ok, you’re ok. You had a nightmare; it's not real, I promise.”
“Will,” Mike gasps, clutching his wrist.
“Hey, hey.” Will climbs out of his sleeping bag and scooches next to him, eyes full of worry. “Hey, it’s ok. You’re ok, you’re safe.”
Mike shakes his head, his lips trembling as he struggles to form the words.
“You were dead,” Mike whispers into his neck, and Will’s expression flickers slightly.
“No, no, Mike, I’m not-“ his voice breaks as Mike clutches onto him tighter. “I’m right here. See? I’m right here.”
Will’s arms come up to engulf him in a hug. The action brings tears to Mike’s eyes, and he swallows tightly and forces them away.
“Sorry, this is,” His voice cracks, and he forces the words out anyway. “This is so embarrassing, I know it’s not real, I’m just being dramatic and-”
“No, stop that. That’s not true. You’re not being dramatic, Mike. Not at all, okay?”
And he knows, he knows he really is just being dramatic. It's been months since everything ended, and he’s still stuck on it. The nightmares, the flashbacks; it’s all so unnecessary. He gets why it would be relevant at the time- a survival tactic meant to keep him alive- but now it’s all just useless. He’s useless. Because if there's nothing he could do about the past, then- if he couldn't save El then- there’s no point in selfishly dwelling on it now.
It must be evident that his thoughts are spiraling because Will tightens his grip on Mike’s shoulder and pulls him closer.
He doesn’t deserve Will. He knows he doesn’t. After everything, he’s supposed to be the strong one. He’s supposed to be the one everyone depends on. And he’s currently breaking apart in his bed because of just one of his stupid fucking nightmares, and Will has to worry about him.
It’s just never enough. He hates the fucking fact that no matter what he does or no matter what anyone else does to help him, it’s not fucking enough.
He’s suddenly very aware of how staggered his breathing is, jagged sounds cutting through the silence, and the realization of his panic does nothing to calm him down.
“Mike, what can I do?” Will’s voice is back. Gentle. Calming. It reminds him of earlier in the day, during the game of truth or dare. When Will called him… His breath catches at the thought, and suddenly, he knows what he needs. He needs that.
His desperation disgusts him.
He doesn't have time to figure out how to approach it subtly, so he just spits it out.
“Can you… Please say…” his voice catches on his request. It’s stupid what he wants, and he knows it. There’s no way Will would even agree to something like that-
“Hey, it’s ok, it’s ok. Anything you want,” Will whispers, his thumb still tracing light circles on the top of Mike’s shoulders. “Whatever it is, I want to do it.” And maybe, with Will, it’s not so unfathomable after all. Mike takes another breath and tries again.
“Baby.” Mike chokes out, wincing already at his request. “Can you call me like, baby, or sweetheart, or stuff like you did earlier during truth or dare. I know it’s stupid, but… it just…” he doesn’t even know how to explain it. “Please,” he finishes in a rush, and Mike can’t even begin to explain how much he hates this: the feeling of helplessness that overwhelms him; the way he’s now making his bullshit Will’s problem too. The last thing he wants to do is bother Will with his request, but he really can’t think of anything else that might work.
After hearing the syllables fall from Will’s lips earlier, he’s not sure he could ever be satisfied with anything else- he’s addicted to the way he sounds, the way his mouth shapes the words. It makes him feel safe in a way he can’t explain, something he doesn’t know how to articulate to Will.
Will’s breath catches for a split second. A change so subtle that Mike barely even catches it, but it's there nonetheless.
“Oh, of course, baby. No, it’s not stupid at all; don’t say that.” Mike shudders at the word, tension draining from his body.
Will shifts from beside him, and Mike is just about to open his mouth to apologize when he feels Will’s hand on his back. He gently pushes Mike down until he’s horizontal and his head rests in Will’s lap.
“I’ve got you, Mike, you’re safe now, darling,” and-
Darling.
That’s a new one.
Mike holds the word close to his chest; he memorizes the way it sounds in Will’s voice, how he shapes the syllables and speaks the vowels. He keeps it like something precious, closing his eyes in focus as he files it away for later.
Will’s fingers thread through his hair, and Mike almost gasps at the sensation. It’s everything; his touch is warm and gentle, and Mike thinks he might actually melt from comfort. It’s such an overflowing sense of safe that he barely knows where to put the rest of his worries. It’s just Will, Will, Will over and over in his mind and-
It’s at this point that Mike suddenly becomes aware of his position in Will’s lap.
He can feel the blood rushing to his face, very aware of his cheek pressed against Will’s thigh and somehow even more aware of his hand in his hair.
“It’s ok, baby.”
And it’s something tangible. Something real that Mike can clutch tight to his heart. Words spoken from Will’s lips. Words that he can believe because it’s Will saying it, and he knows Will would never lie to him.
He feels the tension drain from his shoulders, his breathing slow. Will continues rubbing circles on his shoulder blades, thumb tracing lazily over his neck.
“Do… Do your parents know?” Will keeps his tone light, but his eyebrows stay slightly furrowed with telltale worry. “About the nightmares, I mean.” Mike shakes his head.
“I mean, I’m sure my mom’s assumed by now, but… I’ve never actually told them.” He looks away from Will’s concerned gaze. “They don’t know it gets this bad, though.”
Will nods slowly. “It’s ok. It happens to me sometimes, too.”
Mike’s heart tightens because that’s different. Will doesn't deserve the nightmares- hell, Will never deserved any of this. But he’s grateful nonetheless for the reassurance.
He takes another shaky breath and clears his throat.
“Anyway, uh, thanks, Will. I’m sorry if that was like…. Weird at all.”
“It wasn’t, Mike.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want you to feel-”
“Shh. I liked it, baby. Ok?” It’s crazy how two syllables can make him feel so fucking lightheaded. He’d laugh at how dumb it is if he weren't so desperate. “No apologizing for something I enjoyed.”
Mike nods, suddenly too exhausted to form words, and flops back down on the couch.
“Come here?” His voice sounds small and muffled, even to himself. Will doesn’t respond; he just climbs next to him and tucks himself into Mike.
“Is there anything else I can do?” Will’s hand comes up to comb gently through Mike’s hair. Mike quietly hums his approval, already closing his eyes as he feels a blanket being pulled over both of them.
“Just stay,” he mumbles into the pillow.
“You know I always will.”
***