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“Hey, sexy,” Mike says, waggling his eyebrows as Max walks down the stairs. Did she forget about the bet? Is Mike supposed to-
“Wheeler. I don’t count. I’m just here to make sure you don’t try anything.”
Mike rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah. We both know it’s gonna be Dustin. Lucas and Will are never on time.” That was one of the reasons why he accepted the dare so easily.
“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Max says. Mike narrows his eyes at her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I’m just saying you can’t know for sure who’s gonna be the lucky winner.” She pauses. “And by lucky, I mean the poor soul.”
“I don’t believe you. You know something.” Mike points an accusatory finger at her.
“Did you ask Lucas to get here early? You want me to flirt with your boyfriend?” A lopsided grin tugs at Mike's mouth.
“You’re paranoid,” Max deadpans.
“Just don’t tell me it’s El,” Mike says. “Flirting with my ex would be… weird.”
“Relax. I told her to come later. I wouldn’t want her to go through that torture again.”
Mike frowns. “Torture? And what do you mean again?”
Max stares at him for a beat before slowly shaking her head.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.”
Before Mike has a chance to respond, the front door upstairs opens and closes, followed by footsteps approaching the basement door.
Mike and Max exchange a look before both turning their attention to the stairs.
“Got your pick up lines ready?” Max asks, feigning concern. “I wouldn’t lead with ‘hey, sexy,’ if I were you. You don’t want to creep them out.”
“Shut up.” Mike keeps his eyes fixed on the stairs.
The basement door creaks open.
Mike gulps. He can’t see who’s coming down the stairs from where he’s sitting, but he recognizes the pattern of the footsteps. His heart rate picks up. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Max grinning.
Of course it had to be…
“Max? You’re here early.” Will doesn’t even try to hide the surprise in his voice.
“So are you.” Max gets up to greet him with a hug.
As he pulls away, Will looks over her shoulder, catches Mike’s eye, and gives him a small wave.
Mike gives a feeble wave back. He opens his mouth, closes it again, then tries once more.
“I bid you good evening, sor- sorcerer.”
Max starts coughing into her fist. Mike doesn’t buy it for a second. She’s laughing at him.
Will tilts his head, amused.
“Oh, I didn’t know…” Will clears his throat.
“Thank you, Sir Michael.” Will gives him a little bow. “And to you as well.”
Heat immediately creeps into Mike’s cheeks.
“This is gonna be good,” Max snorts.
"What?” Will turns to look at her.
“I’m just saying the campaign’s gonna be good. Mike put a lot of effort into it, didn’t you, paladin?”
“Yeah, as always,” Mike says nonchalantly.
Max rolls her eyes.
“Where’s Lucas?” Will looks around the basement as though he’s expecting him to pop out from behind the couch.
“I don’t know.” Max shrugs. “Contrary to popular belief, we’re not actually joined at the hip. We spend time apart.”
“We’re just surprised you let your dog wander off the leash, is all,” Mike says.
“Mike!” Will covers his mouth, trying to hide the grin spreading across his face.
“Takes one to know one,” Max fires back without missing a beat. “The dog, I mean. Not the owner.”
Will doesn’t bother hiding his laughter this time.
“Hey!” Mike pouts.
Before he can ask who his supposed owner is, voices drift down from upstairs, two pairs of footsteps making their way toward the basement. Dustin and Lucas appear at the top of the stairs, their hands full of drinks and snacks.
Another fifteen minutes pass before El arrives.
They finally settle around the table. Will ends up sitting next to Mike. He can feel Max’s eyes on him, a silent reminder of their bet. Mike leans closer to Will. He doesn’t mean to say it right into his ear.
Or maybe he does.
“You smell nice.”
Will blinks, clearly caught off guard.
“I thank thee, kind sir,” he says with a smile.
Mike sneaks a glance at Max. She’s busy talking to Dustin.
“Pray tell, is that a new fragrance?”
Will blinks again. A blush slowly appears across his cheeks.
“It’s just the laundry softener, Mike.”
Mike’s cheeks feel just as warm.
“Oh, I mean…”
Lucas’ interruption couldn’t have come at a better time.
“Are we gonna play or what?” Lucas asks. “I’m ready to kill some gnolls.”
Half an hour into the campaign, Mike feels a nudge against his shin. He ignores it, too busy watching El shake the die between her cupped hands.
Another kick lands just as she rolls.
The party erupts into cheers.
“What?” Mike frowns at Max, who’s clearly behind the assault.
She raises an eyebrow and nods toward Will. Mike rolls his eyes.
When they take a break, he’s asking her how long this flirting is supposed to last.
He wets his lips, studies Will for a moment, then leans closer.
“Is this a new shirt?”
Will gives him a puzzled look.
“I’ve had it for a while. Why?”
Mike reaches over and pinches the edge of Will’s sleeve between his fingers.
“Looks good on you.” He doesn’t dare look at Will as he adds, “You should wear it more often.”
Mike can see Will looking at him out of the corner of his eye. He refuses to meet his gaze, instead focusing on his binder. He’s the dungeon master, after all. He should be making sure the campaign keeps moving.
A beat passes.
Will is fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.
“Thanks,” he says quietly. “I… will.”
It’s Dustin’s turn to play.
“Shit, I knew I should’ve played as a druid. I could’ve used wild shape and turned into a chimera!”
“No, you couldn’t. Chimeras aren’t beasts,” El says matter-of-factly.
“Son of a bitch,” Dustin mutters. “How do you know that? You literally skip most sessions.”
El merely quirks an eyebrow and smiles. Lucas rolls a seventeen and clasps his hands together.
“You know what this means, right?” he asks, looking around the table.
“Yeah,” Max sighs. “It means Will’s gonna have to save your ass on his next turn.”
“He won’t,” Lucas says. “I’m gonna cast…” He pauses dramatically.
“Hunter’s mark.”
Dustin snorts.
“Hunter’s mark? That’s your big plan?”
A minute later, it really is up to Will to save the party.
“What if I cast create water but… more? Like fifty gallons?”
El immediately shakes her head.
“You can’t. The spell says ten gallons.”
Dustin groans. “Seriously, how do you know all the rules?”
Mike thinks for a moment.
“I’ll allow it. Rule of cool.” A cheeky grin plays on his lips as he looks at Will. Will smiles back at him.
“Hold on!” Lucas exclaims, “When I wanted to cast gust of wind to fly us across the ravine, you said no.”
Mike doesn’t even hesitate.
“The sorcerer has certain privileges you, as a ranger, don’t.”
Dustin frowns.
“You know he’s playing as cleric, right?”
Max lets out a scoff.
“You really are oblivious, aren’t you, Dusty Bun?”
Every head turns toward her.
It’s Mike’s turn to kick her under the table. Implying Mike uses “sorcerer” as some term of endearment. Ridiculous.
“Can we please get back to the game?” Will says. “The dungeon master already made his ruling. We can either sit here and argue about it, or we can take the win.”
“Whatever,” Lucas mumbles. “This is favouritism.”
Will sticks his tongue out at him.
Mike finds it absurdly charming, which is no one else’s business but his own.
Fifteen minutes later, the campaign comes to a natural halt.
“Snack break!” Max announces.
“Finally. My stomach’s been rumbling for the past half hour,” El says.
“Already? We’ve only been playing for…” Mike checks the clock. “Just over an hour?”
“Aw, c’mon, Mike,” Dustin groans. “We brought Doritos, Reese’s Pieces, Twizzlers, pretzels…”
“…nachos, Coke, Dr Pepper and Budweiser,” Lucas finishes the list.
“Where did you-“
“Steve,” Dustin and Lucas say simultaneously and grin.
“Okay,” Mike sighs in resignation. “But get away from the table. Nothing’s more disgusting than crumbs on the game board.”
Lucas plops down on the sofa, making the cushion dip beneath him. Max shoves his legs aside and pats the spot next to her for El to
sit.
“I’m gonna wash my hands,” Will says before disappearing into the bathroom.
Dustin starts unpacking the snacks onto the old coffee table.
“Are you gonna get us some cups or what?”
“Why don’t you get them yourself?” Mike shoots back, flipping him off as he heads upstairs.
“And plates, please!” El calls after him.
“I only have two hands!” Mike shouts over his shoulder.
“I’ll help,” Will offers, wiping his hands on his jeans.
“My thanks, good sir. Much obliged.”
Mike turns to Will on his way upstairs and dips into a small bow as they reach the top of the stairs.
Once they’re in the kitchen, Mike becomes painfully aware that this is the first time all evening they’ve been alone together.
He suddenly becomes intensely interested in finding the plastic plates.
Hopefully Will has already forgotten about Mike complimenting his supposed aftershave only to find out it was laundry softener. Or the shirt thing. Well, that one wasn’t so bad, was it?
“What are you in search of, Sir Michael?” Will asks, watching Mike
rummage through every cupboard and drawer in the kitchen.
“I’m seeking…” Mike slides open another drawer. “Ha! Found them.”
He triumphantly lifts a stack of green and red plastic plates into the air.
“These'll do better than regular porcelain.”
“An excellent choice,” Will nods.
Mike sets the plates on the counter before opening another cupboard in search of the cups.
“What’s with the rule of cool?” Will asks. “I thought you hated it.”
“I do, generally.” Mike absently opens the fridge, stares at its contents for a second, then closes it again.
“But I might be positively biased toward certain…” He pauses, reaching into another drawer. “…party members,” he shrugs innocently.
Will smiles.
“Showing preferential treatment? That’s rather bold.”
Mike finds five plastic cups and lines them up on the counter.
He needs one more.
He opens another cupboard.
“So was your plan to cast create water. The party would’ve perished without their sorcerer.”
“Mike.” Will chuckles softly, leaning against the kitchen island. His cheeks are tinged pink, his socked foot traces absent circles across the tiled floor.
“You know that’s not my class.”
The sight sends something fluttering in Mike’s chest.
It’s just the bet, he tells himself. He’s only following through because he lost.
The thought barely lasts a second.
He knows that’s a bullshit excuse. Max isn’t here to hold him to it. Mike finds the last plastic cup, kicks the drawer shut with his foot, and turns to face him.
“I know.”
He takes a step closer, leaving only a few inches between them.
“But would you blush if I called you cleric?”
Will’s breath hitches.
For one glorious second, Mike feels unbearably pleased with himself.
Then heat floods his own face.
Shit.
Apparently, making Will blush is one thing. Standing this close and watching it happen is another.
“Wha- what?” Will blinks at him, lips parted.
Mike wants to take it back. How did he go from complimenting Will’s shirt to asking him about blushing? That wasn’t the plan. Clearly, the only way through is forward, because instead of saying forget it or I didn’t mean it, Mike plants his hands on the kitchen island, one on either side of Will’s hips, effectively caging him in.
Except he hasn’t actually stepped any closer, which leaves him leaning toward Will at a slightly awkward angle.
Smooth, Michael. Really fucking smooth.
Mike is close enough now that the scent of Will’s stupid laundry softener fills his nose. Shit. It really does smell nice. Will’s lashes flutter. Mike can see the tiny specks in his irises.
If Mike can see details that small, Will can definitely see his freckles.
Will likes his freckles.
Mike knows that for a fact.
Not long after his breakup with El, Will had found him standing in front of the mirror, twisting and turning to inspect himself from every unflattering angle. Mike had been wallowing in self-pity, picking apart his face and the rest of his body until he’d somehow convinced himself he looked weird. Ugly, even. Like there wasn’t a chance in hell anyone would ever find him attractive again.
He hadn’t even had it in him to be embarrassed when Will caught him.
Will looked almost angry when Mike called himself ugly.
And maybe it was a little pathetic, but Mike desperately needed someone to tell him he didn’t look like a tadpole that had just turned into a frog. So what if he fished for a compliment or two?
Will was willing to give them.
Will told him his hair was shiny and soft. His face wasn’t ugly; it was unique. Interesting.
“Interesting?” Mike poked himself in the cheek. “What’s interesting about this?”
Will sighed.
“Your freckles. I lo-” He stopped himself. “They’re really nice. Especially in the summer, when they’re more prominent.”
Mike watched him through the mirror, but Will wouldn’t meet his eyes. Not at first.
The memory sends a small, ridiculous thrill through him.
Will has a perfect view of his freckles from this close.
And apparently Mike likes that.
That day, when Will finally looked up and met Mike’s eyes in the mirror, his mouth was slightly open.
Just like it is now.
His lips are glistening, like he must’ve licked them right before Mike leaned in.
The thought sends a jolt down Mike’s spine, all the way to his toes.
He actually shivers.
Why the hell is he looking at Will’s lips? Mike drags his eyes back up to Will’s, hoping desperately that Will didn’t notice him staring at his mouth.
He knows that’s just wishful thinking.
Mike pushes himself upright and straightens his posture. He clears his throat. His face still feels unbearably hot.
A smile tugs at the corner of Will’s mouth.
“Something you were saying about blushing, paladin?” Will asks, looking up at him through his lashes.
Now it’s Mike’s turn for his breath to catch.
“That’s not fair,” he mumbles.
Will can’t just use his own trick against him. Mike had the upper hand.
Well, kind of. How the hell did Will manage to level the playing field so quickly?
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Will asks quietly, tilting his head.
For a few seconds, the only sound is the muffled chatter drifting up from the basement.
Mike manages to find his footing again. He grabs the plastic plates and hands them to Will.
“I know not of what you speak,” then gathers up the cups and two bowls.
“Come, good sir. We must return to the dungeon before our companions send a search party after us.”
“Took you long enough.” Dustin makes a grabby gesture toward the plates as they get to the bottom of the stairs.
“Sorry, I don’t know the exact spot where my mom keeps the picnic plates.” Mike rolls his eyes as he sets the bowls and cups on the coffee table.
“Ungrateful,” he mutters. Will starts handing out the cups. When he passes one to Mike, he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even smile. He just looks at him with a curious expression.
God, he must be so confused.
Mike actually feels a little sorry for him. What would he do if Will suddenly started flirting with him? The thought opens a floodgate in Mike’s mind.
There are so many ways he could respond to Will flirting with him. So many things Will could say. Things Mike could say back. Every scenario his brain conjures up ends the same way, with Mike reciprocating whatever Will is offering.
He doesn’t realize he’s still standing there, a dazed look in his eyes, clutching the cup Will handed him until something cold presses against his arm.
Mike startles.
Max is holding a can of beer against his skin.
“Earth to Wheeler,” she singsongs. Mike frowns at her and takes it.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Max says pointedly, clinking her own plastic cup of Coke against Mike’s can.
“Cheers.”
“Yeah, cheers. Listen.” Mike sets the cup and the unopened can on the floor beside the sofa. The coffee table is already covered in food and snacks.
He glances around. Everyone seems busy talking or eating, or doing both at the same time.
Ew.
Mike leans toward Max.
“How long am I meant to… I mean, when does the bet expire?” he whispers, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I knew something happened!” Max whisper-shouts.
If she were a cartoon character, her eyes would be popping out of her head right now.
“Shut up.” Mike shushes her, stopping himself just short of literally slapping a hand over her mouth.
“Nothing happened. I just want to know. I think…” He glances toward Will. “I’ve fulfilled the terms of the bet. You can release me.”
“You’re saying that like you signed your soul over to the devil.”
Mike opens his mouth to point out that Max is the devil, but her stern look stops him before he can get a word out.
“Tell me what happened upstairs, and I’ll tell you when you can stop.”
Mike sighs.
“I don’t know what you’re imagining, but I can tell you right now none of it happened.” He folds his arms across his chest.
“Yuck, I’m not imagining anything. I’m not a perv, and you’re a loser. You’d probably faint before you even kissed him.”
“What?” Mike says, genuinely offended.
“Why do you think I’d faint before kissing Wi- someone?”
A smug smile tugs at her lips.
“I didn’t say, someone. I said him, specifically. And I know because I can see right through you. I saw you earlier when he called you paladin. Absolutely pathetic.” Max arches an eyebrow and takes a sip of her Coke.
“Now spill. I want to get some nachos before Lucas leaves me with nothing but crumbs at the bottom of the box.”
Mike rolls his eyes.
“I called him sorcerer-”
“Again.”
“It worked!”
“Care to elaborate?”
“He blushed.”
“Aw, cute. But also pathetic. You two really do belong together.”
“What are you talking about? I’m only doing this because I lost the bet!”
“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. And to answer your question, you can stop when the campaign is over.” Max flashes Mike a smile before returning to her spot on the sofa between Lucas and El. Mike doesn’t even get a chance to protest. He hasn’t written a particularly long campaign, but they’re definitely going to be playing for at least another three hours.
He drags a hand down his face.
Jesus.
Mike plops down on the floor and cracks open his beer.
The next few minutes pass in a blur of conversation, rustling chip bags, burps, disgusted looks and laughter.
Mike takes turns dipping his tortilla chips and pretzels into the nacho cheese - don’t judge him - he knows it sounds weird on paper, but it works in his mouth. He completely ignores the salsa.
Dustin is on his third D&D joke.
“Two half-orcs walk into a bar. Face first.”
It’s not funny. Not even a little. But the sheer stupidity of it makes Mike snort, and when he reaches for another pretzel, he accidentally dips his finger into the cheese along with it.
Mike looks around the table for a napkin, but there aren’t any in sight. He shrugs and sticks his finger in his mouth. Better than wasting perfectly good dip. He licks it clean and pulls it out with a little pop.
He’s about to grab a nacho and repeat the whole process, minus the finger-licking, when he stops.
He can feel Will’s eyes on him.
Mike looks up, the nacho hovering over the cheese. Will is sitting on the floor on the other side of the coffee table, his eyes fixed on Mike, his mouth slightly open. He doesn’t look away when Mike meets his eyes.
Did he just watch him lick the cheese off his finger?
The hairs on the back of Mike’s neck stand up.
He gulps.
Fuck it.
Mike dips the nacho into the sauce in what he hopes is a sensual manner, deliberately sinking his finger into it at the same time.
He feels absolutely ridiculous as he slowly brings his hand back and puts the nacho in his mouth, never breaking eye contact with Will.
It’s too late to stop now.
Mike slips his finger into his mouth after the chip and sucks the cheese off. Some of it has run down toward his palm, so he drags his tongue over that too.
God. He doesn’t think he’s ever done anything this embarrassing in his life.
But the expression on Will’s face is so worth it.
His eyes are wide, his lips still slightly parted, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
Shit.
Mike feels a little breathless himself.
And…
Turned on?
The realization makes him finally break eye contact. He grabs his beer and takes a long gulp, suddenly very interested in literally anything that isn’t Will Byers.
He glances around, hoping nobody else noticed whatever the hell just happened between them.
His eyes land on El.
She’s clutching a bag of Reese’s Pieces to her chest and chewing slowly, staring at him with an expression of profound disgust.
Okay.
She definitely noticed.
Whatever.
Seeing Will that flustered was worth it.
Not long after, the snacks are abandoned, and everyone settles around the table again.
By the time they’re forty minutes into the campaign, Mike has almost managed to stop thinking about the way Will looked at him across the coffee table.
Almost.
He’s trying to fulfill his role as dungeon master and lead the party to a successful conclusion, but Will’s flushed face keeps popping into his head. Mike doesn’t consider himself particularly hot on a good day, and definitely not while doing something as ridiculous as sucking nacho dip off his finger, so the whole experience has admittedly given his confidence a bit of a boost.
He’s glad Will isn’t sitting next to him like he was before the snack break. Mike doesn’t think he could read a single sentence from his binder without stuttering if he were. Will is sitting next to Max now instead, which makes the whole flirting thing a little more complicated.
Mike hasn’t attempted another compliment or engaged in any other form of flirty behaviour since what he’s privately nicknamed the nacho incident.
The next half hour disappears into dice rolls, spell casting and Dustin arguing with Mike over the interpretation of certain rules. At this point, they all just turn to El and wait for her verdict, since somehow the person who’s played the fewest hours out of all of them seems to know the rules best.
This time, she rules in Dustin’s favour.
Lucas is shaking the dice in his cupped hands when Mike feels a sudden dull pain in his shin. He knows exactly who’s responsible.
Mike looks at Max over the edge of his binder, trying to frown and arch an eyebrow at the same time. The result is probably less intimidating than he intended, judging by the way Max squints at him, seemingly trying to decipher whatever expression he’s attempting to portray.
Eventually, she gives up.
“I kinda fancy a slushie.”
The others immediately launch into a debate over whether they even have room in their stomachs for slushies and which flavour is superior.
Mike knows exactly what she's doing.
That’s his cue to do something.
Something flirty.
After all, that’s how this whole stupid bet started.
With a slushie.
Mike doesn’t know what to do, though. He can’t exactly pay Will a compliment from across the table without making it everyone’s business.
And what else is he supposed to compliment, anyway?
He already told Will he likes his shirt and his aftershave, which turned out not to be aftershave at all.
His eyes wander over Will’s face. He’s smiling at something El said, his head tilted slightly to the side.
Mike could tell him he has a pretty smile. That every time Mike is on the receiving end of it, his knees go a little weak.
He could tell him his hair looks extra soft today and ask what conditioner he uses. Not because Mike wants to run his fingers through it or anything. Obviously. He just wants his own hair to look that soft.
Or he could tell Will that if Mike could draw, he’d paint his eyes over and over again. Although even if he were as talented as Will, it would probably be pointless. No matter how many times he tried, he’d never be able to capture the way looking into Will’s eyes makes him feel.
Mike blinks
Jesus Christ.
Absolutely none of that.
It’s Will’s turn now. He’s just about to roll when Mike receives another kick, albeit a less painful one, to the shin.
What the hell?
He hasn’t forgotten about the bet. He’s just coming up with a strategy. It’s not that easy-
Irritation gets the better of him, and Mike kicks Max back.
Will hisses.
The dice fly out of his hand and clatter across the table as he immediately bends down to rub his shin.
Oh, shit.
“You okay, Will?” Dustin asks, only a second after checking what Will actually rolled.
“Yeah.” Will rubs his shin. “Guess that was just some delayed damage from that goblin attack last round.”
Mike wants to apologize immediately and tell Will that Max was his intended target, but he doubts that would go down particularly well with Lucas. And then he’d probably have to explain why he wanted to kick her in the first place, which would inevitably lead to the whole story coming out, starting with Mike and Max buying slushies two days ago and ending with the stupid fucking bet.
So he just bites his lip, shoots Will what he hopes is an apologetic look and slouches lower in his chair.
He pointedly ignores Max, who’s staring him down.
The idea comes to him out of nowhere.
It’s the perfect combination of apology and flirting. And Max has no idea it's happening right under her nose. Mike slips off his right shoe and carefully searches for Will’s leg under the table with his foot. His toes brush against corduroy. That has to be him.
Mike remembers Will wearing corduroy pants today. He can feel the ridges of the fabric beneath his toes.
El rolls a fifteen.
Everyone expects her to cast Fire Bolt. They’re fighting two ogres, so it seems like the obvious choice. Instead, she casts Chill Touch.
The table erupts.
Dustin’s eyes widen.
“Genius. Simple, but genius.”
Lucas looks like he’s about to fall out of his chair with excitement.
While the party is busy fighting ogres on top of the table, an entirely different battle is unfolding underneath it.
Mike’s foot versus the cuff of Will’s pants. He finally manages to slide his foot under the fabric.
He glances at Will.
Will shivers.
Somehow, he still succeeds in looking completely focused on the campaign, discussing strategy with the others as if Mike isn’t currently trying to work his foot farther underneath his pant leg. Mike slips his foot behind Will’s leg and rubs it gently against his calf a few times before moving to the other leg, making it quite obvious that this isn’t about the apology anymore.
It’s Max’s turn. She rolls an eighteen.
“Okay. I’m gonna run around the troll fast enough to confuse it, then lure it straight into the pit.”
Mike barely looks up from his binder.
“No.”
“What? I rolled an eighteen!”
“You could’ve rolled a twenty. You still can’t turn yourself into a human tornado.”
“Rule of cool,” Max demands.
“Absolutely not.”
Dustin chuckles.
“Did you really think he was gonna use it twice in one campaign? My poor summer child.”
Max scoffs.
“Bet if it was Will’s idea, he’d let him get away with it.”
Mike grins.
“I thought I made myself perfectly clear when I said the sorcerer-”
“CLERIC!” Dustin, El and Lucas shout in unison.
Max just shakes her head.
Will, meanwhile, is biting his lip, slowly turning a die between his fingers.
Mike has completely lost track of time, but he knows he’s been running his foot along Will’s legs for a while now because his calf is starting to cramp.
He reluctantly lowers his leg, giving Will an apologetic little smile. Will smiles back before dropping his gaze to his lap, his cheeks dusted pink.
Mike misses the warmth immediately.
He slips his shoe back on, but it’s not the same.
Mike guesses they’ve got about fifteen minutes left before they wrap up.
He’s successfully managed to avoid all the pointed looks Max has been throwing his way. Until now. She raises an eyebrow and opens her mouth to say something.
“Will,” Mike blurts out before she gets the chance.
He takes advantage of the fact that El, Dustin and Lucas are deep in conversation, planning their next move. Will was too, until Mike so rudely interrupted him.
He should let him focus on the game.
Mike clears his throat.
“Have you- have you finished that painting you’ve been working on?”
Seriously? Is he asking him about a painting in the middle of a campaign? Out of the blue?
Mike could slap himself. How is he meant to turn this into something even resembling flirting?
His only defence is that the painting is D&D related, so technically the campaign could’ve reminded him of it.
Will’s face lights up like it always does when he talks about his projects.
“No, not yet.” He smiles.
“I’d like to finish it by the end of next week, though. Why? Impatient much?” One corner of his mouth quirks up teasingly.
Mike doesn’t even try to play it cool.
“You know I always am when it comes to your art.” He shrugs.
Will knows it. Mike knows it. It’s a fact.
Mike always wants to be there for every step of the process when Will is working on something, and Will usually lets him.
Paladin privileges.
Not this time, though.
Will told him he’s working on a painting of the party, something to do with D&D, but he’s refused to share any other details.
“I know.” Will nods.
“And you know you’ll be the first one to see it. You can come over the minute it’s finished and be there for the grand reveal.”
“I am honoured, my good fellow. My many thanks for allowing me to be the first to behold this masterpiece.” Mike bows his head a little.
Will giggles. He thinks for a moment.
“Actually, you could come over before it’s finished, if you want.”
“Yeah?” Mike doesn’t even try to hide the excitement in his voice.
“Yeah. I always struggle with the last part.”
Will rolls the die on his palm. Mike raises an eyebrow.
“Do you?”
“Sometimes I get so close and then… I don’t know what happens, but I just can’t finish.”
Mike stares at him. Is he serious? Max is watching the exchange with a hand clamped over her mouth, visibly struggling not to laugh.
The others remain blissfully unaware, still plotting their next move. Mike waits for Will to raise an eyebrow.
Smirk.
Wink.
Something to indicate that he knows exactly what he just said.
Nothing.
Instead, Will keeps going.
“Maybe you could actually help me. Maybe if you’re there watching me, I’ll actually-” He stops.
His mouth snaps shut. There it is. Mike watches the realization spread across Will’s face, followed almost immediately by a rush of pink up his neck and into his cheeks.
Oh.
Mike’s mouth twitches.
“Of course.”
Now he hears it.
“Finish the painting.” Will tries.
“Yup.” Mike nods and bites the inside of his cheek.
He’s not going to laugh. Will clears his throat.
“I’m just gonna- I need to pee,” and with that he gets up and disappears into the bathroom.
Mike blows out a long breath and slumps back in his chair.
Max is staring at him with a wide grin, slowly shaking her head. He pointedly ignores her.
“Okay.” Mike clasps his hands together.
“Have you finished whatever strategy you’ve been planning?”
Lucas looks at Dustin and El, waiting for their approving nods.
“Yeah?” They both nod.
“Yeah. Let’s do it.”
“Where’s Will?” El asks.
“Bathroom. He’ll be right back.” Mike busies himself with the pages in his binder.
Thankfully, Will returns a few minutes later, looking significantly less pink. Mike has the good sense not to look at Max.
The rest of the campaign goes smoothly. Mike doesn’t have to argue with anyone about bending the rules, and Max must be satisfied with the show he put on because he doesn’t receive any more kicks.
Dustin, Lucas and El’s hastily assembled plan actually works. The troll goes down, the remaining creatures are defeated and, against all odds, the village survives with all its buildings and most of its inhabitants intact. And with that,” Mike announces, leaning back in his chair, “the village is saved.” The table cheers.
Lucas throws both fists into the air. Dustin immediately starts taking credit for a strategy that was, at best, twenty percent his, and El reminds him that without her they would all probably be dead.
“And without my fifty gallons of water,” Will adds.
Mike points at him.
“Precisely.”
“Ten,” El corrects automatically.
“Not according to the dungeon master.”
Max groans.
“Oh my God, we get it. The sorcerer has special privileges.”
Will shakes his head, laughing.
“I really wish you would learn who I’m playing as.”
Around them, chairs scrape against the floor as everyone starts getting up and gathering their things.
Mike stays where he is for a moment, smiling at Will over the top of his binder.
“I know who you’re playing as.”
Will meets his eyes.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
The others are already grabbing the empty cans and snack bags when Mike waves them off.
“Nah, leave it. I’ll clean up.”
Dustin pauses with an empty bag of chips in his hand. “You sure?”
“Yeah, seriously. It’s fine.”
“You’re a saint, Wheeler.”
“Don’t push it.”
They don't need much more convincing. Lucas grabs his jacket, El collects her things, and Dustin shoves his dice back into his bag before they slowly start filing upstairs.
“Thanks for the campaign, Mike,” El calls.
“Yeah, it was good,” Lucas adds.
“Except for the blatant cleric favouritism,” Dustin says.
Mike flips him off.
Max hangs back. She walks over and holds out her fist. Mike eyes it suspiciously before bumping it with his own.
“Good job, Wheeler.” Her grin widens.
“I had fun.”
Then she turns and follows the others upstairs.
Mike watches her go. He has a feeling she wasn’t talking about the campaign.
Mike turns around and sees Will, who’s already sorting through the leftover food.
“You don’t have to stay and help,” Mike says.
Will shrugs.
“I know.”
Mike smiles. He gets a strange little flutter in his chest at that.
He starts gathering up his D&D stuff while Will separates the open snacks from the unopened ones.
They're moving around the basement in comfortable silence for a short while before Will breaks it.
"About what I said earlier…" he starts.
"Yeah?" Mike looks up. Not entirely sure where Will is going with this.
“About the painting?” Will reminds him.
“About not being able to finish?” Mike can’t help himself.
“Would you stop?” Will groans, but there’s a smile pulling at his mouth. “I was literally talking about my paintings.”
“I know."
“I have a bunch of them, actually. They’re not even really works in progress anymore. They’re basically done. I just need to add the final touches.” Will folds the half-empty bag of chips before setting it aside. “But that’s always where I get stuck. As soon as I get close to the-”
“Climax?” Mike mumbles under his breath.
Will slowly turns his head.
Mike keeps his expression perfectly neutral.
“The end, Mike.”
“Right. The end.”
“What are you, twelve?”
“I’m just a concerned friend.” Mike puts on his most innocent expression.
“Well, I’ll have you know that-” Will stops abruptly. His mouth opens and closes once.
“Actually, no. You don’t have to know anything about... that.” He mumbles the last bit, the tips of his ears turning red.
Mike bites back a smile.
He really wishes he’d been keeping count of how many times he’s made Will blush today.
And there it is again. That little rush Mike gets every time he manages to fluster Will.
Except the campaign is over now. The bet is over. Max has gone home, and there’s no one left to kick him under the table and remind him to flirt.
Mike doesn’t need to do this anymore.
He does it anyway.
“Well, if you ever need my help, you know… just let me know.”
Will just shakes his head at that, a smile playing at his lips.
Mike opens the junk drawer of one of the cabinets, looking for a clip for the half-empty bag of pretzels, and freezes.
“Shit.”
“What?”
Mike pulls out a pair of plastic vampire fangs.
Will looks at them, then at Mike.
“Why do you have those?”
“I was gonna use them during the campaign.” Mike turns them over in his hand.
“I completely forgot.”
“Use them for what?”
“Just… to make the campaign more immersive? For you all?” He shrugs, twisting the fangs between his fingers.
The campaign may be over. And so is the bet, but… Mike slips the fangs into his mouth and turns to face Will.
“Do they suit me?”
The plastic teeth give him a slight lisp.
Will snorts.
“They make you look ridiculous.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Will’s smile falters.
Mike waits.
“Do they suit me?”
Will’s eyes flick briefly to his mouth.
“…yeah.”
Something warm unfurls in Mike’s stomach. What is going on?
Will gathers the leftover nachos into one box and screws the lid back onto the jar of salsa.
“You’re not hungry anymore?” he asks.
“I am.” Mike starts stacking the dirty plates and cups.
"Then why are you putting everything away?”
Mike looks at him.
He doesn’t let himself overthink it.
“I’m hungry for you.”
Will stares at him.
Then his face crumples with laughter.
“Oh, my God.”
“What?”
“That is so cheesy.”
Mike narrows his eyes.
“You won’t be laughing when I drain the last drop of your blood.”
Will laughs harder.
“I’m terrified.”
“You asked for it".
Will’s eyes widen.
“Mike, don’t.”
Mike takes a step toward him.
“Mike.”
Will backs away, still laughing. Then he bolts.
Mike lunges.
Will yelps, twisting away, but Mike catches him around the waist and ducks his head toward his neck, intending to clamp the plastic fangs harmlessly against his skin.
Instead, the fangs slip out of his mouth, and Mike’s own teeth and lips graze the tender skin of Will’s throat.
A soft, breathy sound escapes Will, somewhere between a sigh and a moan, and his knees buckle. Mike’s arm tightens instinctively around his middle to keep him upright.
Holy shit.
Mike feels dizzy.
For half a second, neither of them moves. Then Mike releases him like he’s been burned and takes a step back.
“Sorry. I- the teeth-”
Will turns around. His cheeks are blazing. His eyes are wide. And sitting in his palm are the plastic fangs, glistening with Mike’s saliva.
Mike stares at them.
“Oh.”
Will looks down at them too.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry.”
Mike takes them from him, then notices the damp patch he’s left on Will’s neck.
Awkward.
Mike looks around for something to wipe it with. Napkins, tissues, anything. And once again, he can’t see any.
He wipes Will’s neck with the heel of his palm instead, then wipes his hand on his pants.
“Sorry,” he says again.
“Mike, it’s fine.”
“I’m gonna...” Mike holds up the saliva-covered fangs in the air. “Wash these.” Brilliant explanation.
He retreats to the bathroom before Will can respond.
When Mike comes back, he catches a glimpse of Will disappearing into the upstairs hallway. Most of the food is gone now, along with the empty cans. Mike gathers the remaining cups and plates and heads upstairs too.
Mike pauses just outside the kitchen. He draws in a long breath and blows it out in one sharp exhale.
Okay.
He can be normal.
He walks straight to the dishwasher and starts loading the dirty plates and cups inside. Behind him, Will finishes putting the bags of pretzels and Doritos in the pantry. By the time Mike closes the dishwasher and turns it on, Will is leaning against the kitchen island, watching him. Mike straightens. Will doesn't move.
“Mike?”
Oh, no.
“Yeah?”
“What’s going on?”
Mike shoves his hands in his pockets.
He knows exactly what Will means.
"What do you mean?"
The words spill out of his mouth automatically, but he regrets them immediately.
"Today," Will sighs.
Mike fidgets with a crumb he found in his pocket, twisting it between his fingers.
“I just…” Will looks around the kitchen. “I’m confused.”
Mike’s stomach sinks.
“You’ve flirted with me before-”
He has?
“-and I never really thought anything of it. You say things sometimes. We joke around. Whatever.” Will shrugs, but he still won’t look at him.
“But today was different.”
Oh.
“In the kitchen, you were- you looked…” Will trails off. “And then when we were having food. And your foot under the table.” His voice gets quieter with every example.
“And okay, the…” He swallows.
“The kiss, or whatever, was an accident. I know that. But still.” Finally, he looks at Mike.
“What was all that?”
It’s Mike’s turn to look away. He can’t bear looking into Will’s eyes when he explains how he went to the mall with Max the other day.
“With Max?”
“Yeah. I wanted to get something for Nancy’s birthday. You know how hard she is to buy for. I feel like she already has everything, so I asked Max to come with me. And we got slushies.”
Mike’s shoulders slump. He risks a quick glance at Will. He’s watching him intently, his chin propped on one hand, the other arm folded beneath it.
“We got the large ones. She had the blue one, and I had-” Mike stops. “It doesn’t matter what flavour I had. What happened is, she- I- basically, it was a dare- or bet. I don't- She said whoever finished their slushie first got to dare the other person to do anything. And you know how I always get brain freeze. It feels like my head is going to split in half. I hate it.”
Mike can see Will nodding out of the corner of his eye. He drops his gaze to a loose thread hanging from his belt and continues.
“I lost. And, um… Max dared me to… well, the dare was to flirt with the first person who walked through the door today.”
Will goes very still.
“And- and I thought it was gonna be Dustin! He’s always early. I didn’t know it was gonna be you, I swear. I would never-”
Mike stops.
Would never what?
“But… yeah.”
“Oh.”
That’s it.
Just oh.
Will nods and folds his arms across his stomach.
“Okay. That makes sense.” He smiles, but it’s small and strained.
Mike can see it in Will’s eyes. He’s trying not to look upset. He can’t let him think this whole thing was just a joke to him. That he did it because he got brain freeze from a stupid slushie. Well, he did at first, but- but then…
“No, wait. It started because of the bet-”
“Mike, it’s fine. You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make me feel better.”
“I’m not.”
“Mike.”
“I’m serious.”
“Please.” Will’s voice cracks just slightly. “You’re making it worse.”
“No, let me explain, please. Please, let me explain.”
Will must hear the desperation in Mike’s voice because he sighs.
“Okay.”
“So, as I said, it did start because of the bet, or dare, whatever, but then I… kinda realized some things? As I went along with it?” Mike runs a hand through his hair. “I wanted to tell you- downstairs, I wanted to tell you that your hair looks really soft, and your smile…”
“My smile?” Will asks quietly, eyes widening. That look opens the floodgates. The words start pouring out of Mike’s mouth, and he doesn’t care if he sounds desperate anymore. He can’t have Will thinking he didn’t mean any of the things he said or did today.
“Your smile- it’s really pretty, and it kinda does stuff to me when you smile at me. And your eyes? Your eyes are so-”
Mike gestures helplessly.
“If I could paint like you, I don’t think I could paint your eyes because- I could never- I’d never get them right. I’d never do them justice. And your t-shirt looks really good on you, and you smell so good, and I know it’s just stupid fabric softener-”
Will lets out a soft, breathless laugh.
“-and my freckles.”
Will blinks.
“Your freckles?”
“You like them.”
“Yeah, but-”
“Earlier, when we were standing here.” Mike gestures toward the kitchen island.
“We were so close, and you- and I- I could see all these tiny little specks in your eyes, and then I thought- I realized that if I could see that, you could see my freckles. And I remembered you telling me you liked them, and I…” He swallows. “I liked knowing you could see them up close.”
Mike has to stop for breath. He’s practically panting now, like he’s just run a marathon.
“None of that was part of the bet, Will.”
Will says nothing.
“And I’m glad I lost. I’m glad you weren’t late for once.”
“Yeah?” Will breathes out, his eyes glassy.
Mike nods.
“I’m really fucking glad it was you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“So…” Will glances down. “What now?”
“Um, I don’t know. Do you-” Mike rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t know.”
“Well, the things you said to me… that’s… those are- those are things I think about you, too. Things I feel.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“And- but…” Will takes a breath. “I know what they mean. For me.”
Mike’s heart gives a strange little lurch.
“And what… what do they mean?”
“Mike.”
Will looks up.
“Yeah?”
“Shit. Okay. Here goes- here goes nothing.”
Mike waits.
“I’ve had a crush-” Will stops and shakes his head. “Well, no. That’s not…”
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Mike.”
Mike forgets how to breathe.
“So… yeah. I feel all those things because I’m in love with you.” Will swallows. “I love you.”
“Oh God,” Mike whispers.
Will’s face falls.
“Fuck. Okay. Shit," is all Mike manages.
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No!” Mike steps toward him. “No, wait- no. I’m glad you did.”
He presses his palms to his cheeks and rubs at his face a few times.
“It’s just… It’s a lot. It’s a shock.”
“Is it?” Will gives a tiny, nervous laugh. “I thought it was so obvious.”
“Well… not to me.”
“Yeah,” Will huffs. “I see.”
Mike barely hears him. His mind is racing.
Will loves him.
Will is in love with him.
“So…” Mike looks at him. “Are you saying- is it- are you saying I’m in love with you?”
Will blinks.
“No, Mike. I’m saying I’m in love with you. I don’t know how you feel about me.”
“I think-” Mike stops. “I- yeah."
“What?"
“Same.”
“Mike.”
“I think.”
“Mike, I kinda need you to be sure about this before you say anything else.”
Mike closes his mouth.
He looks at Will.
He sees lips that, when they curl into a smile, make Mike's insides go all warm and fuzzy. He sees his pretty, pretty eyes. His stupidly soft hair. The pink still lingering at the tips of his ears.
He thinks about wanting Will to see his freckles.
About the rush every time he made him blush.
About how immediately he missed the warmth of Will’s leg when he pulled his foot away.
About Will saying I love you and the terrifying, enormous feeling currently trying to burst out of Mike’s chest.
Oh.
“I am.”
Will’s lips part.
“I mean it.” Mike’s heart is pounding now. “I love you too. I’m-”
Saying it feels scary. And... amazing.
And somehow completely obvious at the same time. As if it was always waiting at the tip of this tongue, ready to be said aloud.
“I’m in love with you.”
Will just stares at him.
“Oh, God.”
A slightly hysterical laugh escapes Mike.
“Exactly. Oh, God.”
Will laughs too, although Mike thinks he’s definitely going to start crying any second now. They stand there looking at each other. Neither of them seems to know what to do with their hands.
“So…” Will starts. “Can we maybe- can we, like…?”
Mike smiles.
“Yeah. Whatever you want, sorcerer. We can.”
Will lets out a shaky laugh, still leaning against the kitchen island. Mike steps closer and places his hands on the counter on either side of Will’s hips. He hesitates for a second before he moves them to Will's hips instead.
“Déjà vu,” Will murmurs.
Mike’s eyes drop to his lips.
This time, he doesn’t mind that Will can see him looking. Will’s eyes drop to Mike’s mouth, too.
Mike isn’t sure who’s supposed to take the first step.
He leans closer.
And closer.
Until he can feel Will’s shallow breaths against his lips.
“Do you want me to put the fangs back on?” he whispers.
Will’s head jerks back with laughter.
“Oh my God, stop. You’re ruining the moment.”
Mike laughs too. He slides one hand from Will’s hip into his hair. He was right. It’s unbelievably soft.
“You thought they looked sexy,” he says, slowly leaning back toward him.
“You’re insane.” Will shakes his head.
“Admit it.”
“Never.”
Mike closes the remaining distance between them.
“Admit it,” he whispers against Will’s lips.
“Fine. You look hot in them.”
“I knew-”
Will kisses him. And this time, it’s Mike’s knees that buckle.