Chapter Text
The day starts impossibly early, is full of rush and packing. Mike and Will both burn with anticipation despite all their nerves.
Today is the day. California is eagerly waiting for them. All the phone calls have been made, arrangements put together. The trip that has been in the making for over a year by now is finally coming to fruition.
Mike and Will leave together. Dustin and Jane fly out just a little later. Lucas and Max should pick them all up, and from there it's two weeks of them sharing a space and getting on each other's nerves like the old times.
Mike stands in the middle of their bedroom with no shirt on, a mess of curls on his head and hands on his hips. He stares at his suitcase, laid open on the floor with clothes spilling over the edges.
He's been at this for nearly an hour by now. He packs one thing, thinks he's done, then about ten more things pop up. It's such a pain his temples throb.
Mike looks around and grabs a mug off the nightstand. He takes a sip, hoping the coffee will soothe his headache, even if it's cold and has been sitting there since yesterday.
The taste that hits him is weird. Bitter, leaving a strange coating on Mike's tongue. Despite that, he takes a few more tiny sips, trying to figure out what to pack next.
Will walks into the room, still fluffy with sleep. A fresh, delicious smell of coffee follows him, steam rises from the hot mug in his hands. His lips are curled into a soft smile that drops as he looks at Mike.
He stops in his tracks. His eyes jump from Mike's hands to the empty nightstand and back on a stunted loop. Mike pays it no mind. He keeps staring at the suitcase, trying to remember if he needs to pack anything else.
"Mike," Will says, almost cautious.
"Yeah, baby?" Mike's eyes jump up, round and soft. The only natural reaction.
"What are you doing?" Will narrows his eyes slightly.
"Drinking coffee?" Mike says like it's obvious.
"Are you sure that's coffee?" Will stretches, his nose scrunches.
Mike furrows his brows in confusion. He looks down into his mug properly. Sees a familiar muddy color, completely different from his favorite black coffee. There's a film on the surface, the liquid is murky and clouded.
"Paint water," Mike realizes, his eyes fall shut.
"Paint water," Will says through a sigh. "Here."
He walks up to Mike, switches the mug in his hands to actual coffee. Hot and fresh, as dark as possible with just the right amount of sugar. Mike's favorite, enough to wake him up and soothe his headache.
Mike accepts it and takes a sip. As soon as the flavor hits his tongue, he nods. It washes away the bitter taste of paint.
"God, Mike," Will shakes his head with a chuckle, walks towards the door. "What time is this? Third?"
"Fifth," Mike corrects.
"Fifth?!" Will squawks, turns back with widened eyes. He stares with concern. Mike just shrugs sheepishly in response.
Will washes the mug, does some cleaning around the apartment. Mike packs more clothes. He even throws in a sweater just in case, despite the weather being scalding hot everyday. His suitcase looks like it's about to burst at the seams.
Mike leaves it alone. He walks out into the kitchen, quickly rinses his mug. In the living room, Will is watering the few plants they have, crowding the windowsill. Mike walks up behind him, drapes an arm across his narrow waist. His chin rests on Will's shoulder, he kisses his neck softly.
"Did you shower yet?" Mike murmurs. He inhales the natural scent of Will, sweet and familiar.
"You can go first," Will's voice trembles around the edges at the tickling touches.
"Or we can go together," Mike grins, fully hugs Will around the waist. Both arms, hands locking across his soft stomach.
"Mike," Will huffs, flustered. They sway a little, early morning sun warming them.
"Come on," Mike melts, his eyes flutter shut. He buries his face in Will's delicate neck, playfully nibbles at it.
"Go. I still need to pack some stuff," Will laughs through the words, despite all his efforts to sound assertive.
He sprays the last plant, then does the same to Mike's face. Mike blinks the water droplets away, grazes Will with his teeth one more time before reluctantly pulling away.
"How much time left?" he asks.
"About an hour," Will answers.
Mike nods, takes a second to stare at Will's blushed cheeks before retreating to the bathroom.
The hour flies by in a blink of an eye. Suitcases are all zipped up and waiting by the door, backpacks join in shortly after. The two check everything about fifty times, just to be sure. It's hot outside, so they're wearing simple shirts and shorts.
"Did you pack sunscreen?" Will asks once more, voice strained as he pulls his shoes on.
"Yup," Mike pops his lips. He ties his sneakers up, then opens his backpack to show two freshly bought bottles of sunscreen tucked into it.
"That's gonna last you, like, three days. Maybe," Will teases, with an amused grin on his face.
"Oh, come on," Mike scoffs and rolls his eyes, though it has no bite to it.
Will simply giggles at him, sweet and melodic. He rises on his toes and kisses Mike's freckled cheek. A quick, almost shy peck. It isn't enough for Mike. He cups Will's jaw and steers him.
Their lips slot together, both a little dry but quickly softening against each other. Will makes a small sound into the kiss, body going slack in Mike's hold. Mike parts his mouth and gets more greedy with it, licking over Will's lips and pressing into him.
He crowds Will against the nearest wall, instinctively shields his head as he does it. Slick, wet pops travel through the apartment each time their lips separate, only to reconnect moments later.
They will never get tired of this. The affection, the warmth. This craving to cling, to hold, to kiss, to devour. No matter if they're running late, or have an entire slow day together. It's a need.
Their hands travel. Touch faces, tangle in hair, fist at shirts. Mike's lungs start to burn, demanding oxygen. As he tries to pull back, Will clings to him more. Grips his broad shoulders, rises higher on his toes. Like a piece of metal following a magnet, a natural pull.
A knock on the door cuts the bliss short. The two jump apart, mouths glistening and red, lips nearly bruised from the intensity. Mike sighs miserably, his forehead drops against Will's shoulder. It's time.
Jonathan waits for them beyond the door. He's just as messy and sleep deprived, but determined. He helps bring all the bags down, loads them into his car. Will climbs into the front seat and buckles up, waits for the others.
Mike walks to his own car, parked nearby. It was a gift for his birthday. He's only had it for about two months, yet it already feels like it's part of him. Unfortunately for him, it's staying behind in New York.
"Mike," Jonathan sighs, buzzing with restless and impatient energy.
He watches Mike solemnly look at his car, run his hand along the hood. Like he's saying his goodbyes to a loved one. So much more dramatic than necessary.
"I'll miss her," Mike frowns.
"You can tell me about it on the way. Come on," Jonathan rushes.
Reluctantly, Mike stomps over to the car and gets into the back seat. Jonathan ignites the engine, and they make their way to the airport. The city is slowly coming to life around them, streets smear by.
"You guys excited?" Jonathan says as they stop at a red light.
"Yeah," Will smiles. "We'll finally see everybody."
"The whole Party," Mike agrees, nodding in the back.
"Is Lucas picking you up?" Jonathan glances through the rearview mirror.
"Yup," Mike answers, scratches his eye.
The light turns back to green, and they keep moving.
"Also," Jonathan continues. "Nancy says good luck and have fun. And call when you get there."
"We will," Mike nods.
"Yeah, we will," Will agrees. He's practically bouncing in his seat, looking out the window with the sun warming his face.
Jonathan exhales sharply, like his chest is tight. As they stop at another red light, his fingers tap on the steering wheel nervously. Will notices, nudges him gently.
"What?"
"Nothing," Jonathan shakes his head, then immediately gives up. "Just.. planes."
His expression darkens. In contrast, Will looks completely relaxed. As if they're driving to simply get groceries.
"Oh," Will says, brows jumping up.
"You're not nervous about that?" Jonathan glances over, then the light changes again.
Will sits back and hums. His lips purse, and Mike watches it from his seat. He wants to kiss that pout. Unfortunately for him, the best he can have right now is putting his hand between the seats and nudging Will's thigh with his knuckles.
"It's better than driving for, like, two days straight," Will shrugs, scrunches his nose.
"Okay, that's fair," Jonathan chuckles.
Finally, they make it. After eternity of looking for a parking spot, Jonathan rushes out of the car, grabs the suitcases. Mike tries to take them away, stubborn. Will simply grabs his own backpack and waits for the arguing to stop.
Inside of the airport it's bright and crowded, immediately overwhelming. Out of breath, Jonathan leads the way. His eyes are wide and frantic, scanning every single sign. Eventually, they find their area and sit down.
"Got everything? Tickets, passports?" Jonathan asks for the tenth time this morning.
"Yes. All here," Mike wheezes, taps on his backpack. He holds it in his lap, and it's the only thing keeping his exhausted frame upright.
"Okay," Jonathan exhales, still looks incredibly tense. He paces, keeps folding and unfolding his arms on a nervous loop.
"We'll be fine," Will sighs softly, stands up from the bench to hug his brother.
Jonathan accepts gladly. He wraps his arms around Will, pats his back. His eyes follow a plane that's just taking off outside, focused like a hawk.
"Have fun, okay?" Jonathan says, trying to sound collected despite his face communicating the opposite. Will nods against his shoulder.
The two hug for just a moment longer before separating. Jonathan moves on to Mike, arms outstretched. Mike's backpack lands on the floor.
Mike winces as he stands up from the bench, bones sore. He hugs Jonathan gladly. They don't do this often, but Mike feels oddly protected every time, despite being the taller one.
They don't say much, just smile against each other's shoulders. Jonathan pats Mike's back, firm and brotherly, then they separate.
"Okay, I gotta go," he says through yet another tense sigh. His hand lingers on Mike's shoulder for a beat. "Good luck."
"Thanks," Mike smiles.
"Bye," Will waves a hand, now sat on the bench again.
"Bye," Jonathan echoes, and reluctantly leaves.
Mike plops back on the bench, pulls his backpack into his lap. He hugs it to his chest and looks around, almost defensive. The situation seems to finally settle in, nerves come back.
Mike's knee bounces as they sit and simply wait. This isn't his first time travelling by plane, coincidentally to California as well. Still, right now this feels like a much bigger deal.
"Nervous?" Will notices, nudges Mike's bare knee with his own. His hands are clasped together in his lap, twisting and fidgeting.
"Yeah," Mike admits, throws his head back against the bench.
"If you get scared, you can just hold my-"
"No, no," Mike interrupts gently. A small chuckle escapes him at how adorably worried Will is. "I mean about.. seeing Lucas and Max. All of us being together again."
"Oh," Will nods in understanding. He squirms a little in his seat. "Yeah. Me, too."
"It's been a year," Mike's eyes widen at the realization.
"Yeah."
"What if it's, like.. awkward?" Mike winces, starts to fidget with the strap of his backpack.
"I mean, it wasn't awkward last time," Will comforts, looks at Mike with soft eyes.
Last time they saw Lucas and Max was at Joyce and Hopper's wedding, just a little over a year ago. The two flew in, the Party got to spend an evening together, catching up. The wedding itself was a lot of fun. Music, alcohol, dancing. The distance didn't exist.
Unfortunately, they had to fly back the very next morning. After that, all they could rely on were phone calls, occasional letters or packages. It's nice, but so different from seeing each other in person.
Jane and Dustin also live a bit far, but it's a much more manageable distance. Spending weekends in Montauk has pretty much become a tradition. Dustin likes to show up at Mike and Will's apartment every once in a while, sometimes with no warning.
The dynamic has changed since they all left Hawkins. The connection remains strong, but it's different.
Suddenly Mike thinks about all the calls he might have missed, or should have made but was too busy. He feels his guts twist into a guilty knot.
"Hey," Will nudges Mike's thigh. A gentle, reassuring touch that's hidden enough from any wandering eyes. "Even if it's awkward, it won't be for long. It's us. The Party."
"The Party," Mike echoes, feels himself loosen slowly. He smiles, eyes darting all over Will's face. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."
They sit on the bench and wait until it's time to board. Mike immediately forgets about his nerves in favor of taking the lead, making sure they don't lose their luggage and that Will is okay. His hand is firmly gripping Will's arm the whole time, keeping him close in the crowd.
The flight itself isn't that long, but feels like it stretches for eternity. Will takes the window seat. He looks out at the clouds with round, curious eyes. His sketchbook keeps him entertained and sane enough.
Mike grips his own seat and avoids looking at the window like the plague. He doesn't want to think about how high up they are, even for a second. To add to it, a little bratty kid behind him repeatedly kicks his seat.
The two talk, hushed and private. Mike nudges Will's feet with his own, pats his thigh, takes a few short naps on his shoulder. He tries to read the book he shoved into his backpack last second, but ultimately retains nothing.
Will hates the food offered, but is too polite to decline. He sees how tense and scared Mike is of the view outside, and eventually closes the window. The last hour passes easily, and before they know it, it's time to grab their bags and leave.
It's already getting dark by the time they step outside. The sky melts into a deep, bruised blue, the evening breeze bites at their cheeks. People spill out of the airport, suitcase wheels rattle against the asphalt.
"Are you cold?" Mike checks in, sees the goosebumps rising up Will's arms.
"No, no. I'm okay," Will shakes his head.
Mike drags their suitcases along despite the soreness in his arms. He tugs them closer, huffs and puffs. In contrast, Will just has his backpack hanging off his shoulder. Exactly how Mike wants it.
"Are you tired?" Will slows down. "I can take mine if you-"
"No, I got it," Mike interrupts. They stop on a curb, take a breather. "See any red cars?"
Will hums, stretches his neck out. He looks around, searching for Lucas's car. They got a description over the phone, and it sounded distinct enough. Right now, though, it's very hard to spot in an ocean of cars, crowding the dimly lit parking lot.
Then, a horn beeps. Loud and rhythmic, like a melody. Mike and Will's heads snap towards the sound like they're a pair of startled meerkats. A little further out they spot a red car, with a familiar silhouette leaning against it.
Lucas waves his hand, stretching it as high up as possible. Along with him, Max peeks out of the passenger window. The sight is nerve-wracking and a relief all at once.
"Fucking finally," Mike mumbles to himself. He quickly waves back, then grabs onto the suitcases again.
"Need help?" Will pauses, clearly torn.
"Go ahead, baby. I'm right behind you," Mike says softly, smiles.
With that, Will launches forward. He nearly sprints across the parking lot, arms outstretched. A big, happy smile decorates his face. Bright enough to illuminate the entire street.
"Byers!!" Lucas yells out, delighted as Will pretty much jumps into his arms.
The hug is solid and tight, like making up for all the lost time. Lucas squeezes Will like he's a cute plush toy, lifts him off the asphalt. Will laughs so loud it travels through the lot, bends his legs.
In that time, Max climbs out of the car. Lucas puts Will back on the ground, holds him for just a beat longer. His hands linger on him as they pull apart, measure him.
Then, Will collapses into a hug with Max. This one is much more gentle and loving. They embrace one another like it's been decades, oozing with relief. Their shoulders loosen, heads slot together. They whisper to one another, smile so wide it almost looks painful.
Mike watches it happen as he drags the suitcases. He finds himself smiling, happy to see his loved ones reunited, practically hopping up and down and hugging.
It oddly reminds him of middle school, when they would meet at the bike stand before class. So little, so happy to see each other. Back when everything was so exciting. Mike wishes he appreciated those times more, when the six of them were always stuck together.
Lucas spots him quickly. He doesn't wait for Mike to come over, meets him halfway instead. Mike's heart starts beating really fast all of a sudden. He doesn't know how to behave, if he should say something.
Ultimately he lands on awkwardly stretching his arm out, going for a handshake. Mike feels stupid doing that. He and Lucas don't shake hands, but his brain is so scrambled with nerves he doesn't think about it, just does it.
Instead, he gets pulled into a bear hug. One so solid and firm all air gets knocked out of him.
"Get in here," Lucas says as he does it. He pats Mike's back, squeezes him so hard it's nearly painful.
"Hey," Mike wheezes into Lucas's ear, hugs him back with his free arm. The other gets stuck between their bodies. Despite the pain, Mike grins from ear to ear.
"I missed you, buddy," Lucas adds. He curls his hand into a fist and rubs Mike's head with it.
"You, too," Mike laughs, bats Lucas away. He can finally look at his friend properly, and his eyes widen. "Jesus Christ, did you get even bigger?"
"Maybe. Not sure," Lucas says sarcastically, flexes his arms a little. He was already muscular before the move, and has grown even more. "Hey, you look good, man. Seriously. You still run?"
Lucas measures Mike's shoulders, squeezes his arms. He slaps his biceps a little, coaxing him to flex.
"Uh.. Yeah. Sometimes," Mike mumbles, suddenly embarrassed. He pulls his sleeve up, flexes a little. Feels stupid doing it as blush spreads over his face. His muscles are not nearly as prominent, but the praise is nice.
"That's awesome, dude," Lucas approves, smiling. He looks at the two loaded suitcases at Mike's side. "Need help with that?"
"Yes, please," Mike rasps, nods eagerly.
Lucas grabs the suitcases and pulls them towards the car. Mike follows, drags himself on tired legs. Max interrupts her hushed conversation with Will.
Her and Mike share a look, affectionate yet still a bit awkward. He pulls his lips into a tight line, slowly stretches his arms out. Max walks up to him, her steps more measured than what he's used to.
They hug, just a little stiff before properly slotting together. Mike slouches to accommodate. His chin meets Max's temple, while her face finds his shoulder.
"Hey," Mike speaks up first. He pats Max's back, a bit awkward.
"Hey. Good to see you," Max returns the gesture.
"Yeah," Mike clears his throat and pulls back. Despite the awkwardness, he's smiling. "You, too."
"Was the flight okay?" Max asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
"It was.. fine, I guess," Mike scrunches his face, sways his head from side to side, unsure. The shitty food, the annoying kid and the boredom feel so distant by now.
Max gives him a long look, up and down. Almost studying him. She nods, impressed.
"You look good."
"Oh," Mike blinks dumbly. "Uh.. Thanks. You, too."
"Ew," Max grimaces.
"What the fuck?" Mike scoffs.
With that, the awkwardness seems to ease. Max chuckles, bumps Mike's ribs with her knuckles. She looks pretty different.
Even more grown, her hair is significantly shorter. Barely reaching her shoulders, holding some messy waves. The ends are lighter, bleached by the sun and looking like fierce flames.
Lucas has changed, too. His locs are longer. Almost enough to tie up into a ponytail, Mike imagines. He's even more muscular now, so much more himself.
Their clothes are brighter and cooler, no longer held back by judging eyes of a small town. Even their movements are lighter, body language so much more relaxed and comfortable. They've grown into themselves.
"Alright," Lucas says as he closes the trunk. He clicks his tongue, nods towards the car. "Get in."
"Wait. We're not waiting for the others?" Mike pauses.
"Their flight got delayed. They should be here tomorrow," Max explains, climbing into the passenger seat.
"Oh. That sucks," Will frowns.
They get into the car. Mike can't help but compliment it, which brings a proud, almost giddy smile to Lucas's face. He isn't driving his dad's car anymore. This one is his own. One he saved up for, fixed, painted himself. Every step was shared over the phone.
Mike and Will settle in the back, hands tangled and legs pressed together. It feels so nice to finally sit on something comfortable. Mike can even stretch his long legs. Will lays on his shoulder, the tiring day clearly getting to him.
They drive along the busy streets, lights smearing by and contrasting against the dimmed city. Lucas has his hand on Max's thigh, massaging it. Radio murmurs softly.
For a bit, the four stay awkwardly quiet. They've talked about pretty much everything over the phone. All they have now is small talk about the trip, the city itself. Still, it's nice. Mike smiles privately, softly kisses the crown of Will's head.
He already has an image of Max and Lucas's house in his mind. For some reason, he always imagined it looking like a summer resort, perhaps with a palm tree out front. In spite of all the descriptions over the phone and even pictures.
What he's actually met with is much more simple. Lucas pulls into the driveway, parks and turns the overhead light on. He twists in his seat, arm resting on the back of Max's headrest.
"Well, we're here," he says, gives a tight, awkward smile.
Stars are starting to poke through the sky as they climb out. A breeze bites at their arms, cicadas sing. Out here, the air feels more salty and fresh. Mike takes a deep breath, just to let it soak in.
The house is nothing extravagant. It's quite simple, actually. Just one story, with a few neat bushes out at the front. A gravel path leads from the grass to the door.
It's so different from Lucas's family home, or Max's trailer. It holds no trace of their lives in Hawkins, yet somehow encapsulates them both perfectly.
That feeling lingers as the four step inside the house. Warm light hits them, the quiet hum of the lamp is oddly nostalgic. Lucas dips to help Max take her shoes off, then kicks his own sneakers aside.
Mike and Will are a bit stiff and awkward, sticking to corners. They keep sharing quick glances, feel almost like intruders. Afraid to touch anything or even lean on walls too much.
"Leave the shoes over there," Lucas points, then grabs the suitcases again. He drags them down the hallway, the wheels rattle against the floorboards. "You guys are gonna stay in my room."
The two quickly kick their own shoes off and follow. They walk past the other bedroom, the living room. Get a glimpse of the kitchen and the bathroom. They don't look properly quite yet, too tired and knocked off balance.
Finally, they find their temporary bedroom and step inside. Lucas leaves the suitcases in one of the corners and turns the light on.
"Welcome," he says, arms outstretched.
"Nice," Mike comments, with an impressed frown on his face. He looks around, takes careful and measured steps.
"You guys got here first, so you're getting the bedroom," Max pops in, leaning on the doorframe.
"Thanks," Will smiles sweetly. "We'll be careful."
"Bed, desk, window," Lucas lists, pointing around the room.
"Closet. I'm sure you got that figured out," Max jokes, shoots a dagger in Mike's direction. He scoffs at her, face scrunched like he ate something sour.
"Make yourself at home," Lucas adds. He crosses the room, pats Will on the shoulder as he passes by him. "Bathroom is across the hall. You saw the kitchen. You got it."
"Yeah," Will nods.
"You guys hungry?" Max asks.
"Starving," Mike rasps.
"Then you're gonna have to help with dinner," Max tilts her head, peels herself away from the doorframe. Looks like it takes her great effort to do so.
"Okay. No problem," Mike chirps.
"Hold on," Will puts a hand up. "I could-"
"I got it," Mike interrupts gently. He rubs Will's arm, gives it a sweet squeeze. It's so soft, fitting into his hand perfectly. "You can unpack while we do it?"
"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Will nods, his cheeks go a little pink. They smile at one another, sweet and private.
"And I need a shower," Lucas drags, stretches his sore muscles as he leaves the room.
Max follows right after. She gives Mike and Will a nod, and walks out. With the two gone, it's like the air feels a little lighter. No longer as awkward. Mike can move again. He finally feels comfortable enough to embrace Will properly. Hugs him around the waist, kisses his temple softly.
"You okay?" Mike asks quietly.
"Yeah. Just tired," Will nods. His voice is sleepy, a little raspier than usual. "You?"
"Me, too," Mike nods back.
They take a proper look at the room. It's pretty simple, yet still holds a lot of Lucas in it. Dumbbells rest by the bed, simple wallpaper decorates the walls, pictures crowd the shelves. Old and new, from childhood and all the way up to recent times.
Will is a bit more polite about it. He doesn't stare too much, doesn't even touch anything. Mike, in contrast, glares and inspects every inch of the room. Curiosity takes over him.
It's one thing to hear about how their friends are doing over the phone, completely different to actually see it. The photos, the rows of pretty rocks from the beach, sea shells. Lucas's textbooks and how different they are. All evidence of their new lives. Things that the rest of the Party weren't there for.
Mike gets so carried away that Will has to nudge him. He scolds him with his eyes alone. Green and pretty, framed by long lashes. Ones that sometimes say more than any words can.
"Yup. Definitely Lucas's room," Mike concludes, and the two break out into fond chuckles.
"You coming or not?" Max yells from the kitchen, followed by a rush of water.
"Yeah, yeah," Mike yells back. His eyes roll before he can stop them. He gives Will a quick, private peck on the lips and leaves.
The kitchen looks bright and welcoming. The furniture is a little mismatched, yet somehow comes together perfectly. A variety of magnets decorate the fridge door. They hold notes, old grocery lists, a couple photos.
Max is rummaging through the fridge. Mike stops in the doorway, awkward and unsure. Instead of an actual door there's a beaded curtain. Mike gets a little tangled in it, curses under his breath.
"What?" Max notices the tension.
"Uh.. Is it cool if I use the phone?" Mike asks. His voice climbs up in pitch pathetically. Like he's asking for something impossible.
"Use whatever you want," Max says, visibly softens. She pulls some veggies out of the fridge and walks over to the sink.
"Cool. Thanks," Mike chirps. He jerks to walk, then realizes he has no clue where the phone actually is.
"Over there," Max points without looking.
Mike breathes out a 'thanks'. He finds the phone by the front door, dials the number with slightly numb fingers. Everything is still so new and unfamiliar. He listens to the rings, slightly shifting on his feet.
"Hello?" Nancy's voice comes through.
"Hey, it's Mike. We didn't die."
"That's nice, Mike," Nancy deadpans, clearly not amused. "Thank you for telling me."
"No problem," Mike says, mirroring Nancy's flat tone.
"How is it over there?"
"Good so far. I mean, we haven't done much yet. Just trying to make dinner right now," Mike rambles a little, scratches the side of his neck. "Dustin and Jane are coming tomorrow."
"Yeah, they called," Nancy says. "They'll be there in the morning."
"Cool," Mike yawns into his fist. "And how are you guys?"
"We were just about to go to bed."
"Oh. Then.. bye?"
"Yeah. Say hi to everybody for us," Nancy's voice softens.
"Yup," Mike pops his lips.
"And have fun."
"Okay," Mike drags, starts to feel embarrassed. "Goodnight."
"Night."
Mike hangs up. With that out of the way, he returns to the kitchen. Max already has vegetables, cutting boards and knives laid out across the table. Mike walks past all of it to wash his hands.
"So.. what are we doing?" he asks.
"Just help me chop all this up first," Max gestures at the vegetables, grabs an onion and a knife.
"Okay, yeah," Mike dries his hands.
They pull out a chair each and sit down. Mike can't help but watch Max as she does it. Gripping the back of the chair so hard her knuckles whiten, sitting down slowly and carefully. Her moves are a bit stiff, brows scrunch from the effort.
Mike doesn't comment on it. He simply grabs his knife, starts peeling and chopping carrots. Still, his eyes drift back towards Max.
She chops up an onion, but her technique really catches Mike's attention. Slow and steady, each cut measured and deliberate. Max uses both hands to push the knife down, puts her whole body into it. Like each cut takes great effort.
Mike stares so hard his own hands slow down. Max quickly notices.
"So," she says. "How's New York?"
"Like you don't know," Mike scoffs, but it has no bite to it.
"Yeah, fair," Max chuckles. She's heard so many stories over the phone.
"It's fine. Not much changes," Mike shrugs once the giggles fade.
"Right," Max nods, pauses to press the knife down again. "Everyone okay?"
"Yeah. Just working, or studying. Living life," Mike chirps.
"Yeah," Max mutters, her lips curl into a small smile.
"Yeah," Mike echoes.
They go quiet. Max cuts the onion again. One hand holding the handle, the other palm pressing down on the blade. She puts her whole shoulder into it. A wrinkle forms between her brows, until the knife makes it through. Mike winces as he sees it, his mouth opens on its own.
"How's your, uh.."
"What?" Max pauses.
Mike hesitates, stares down at his own hands for a second.
"You know, your.. pain?" he gives in and asks, voice careful.
"Oh," Max says quietly.
"Is it.. getting any better?"
"Yes, and no," Max laughs bitterly. She puts her knife down, starts massaging her hands.
"Right," Mike mutters, unsure how else to respond.
"I'm better at dealing with it," Max explains.
"That's.. good," Mike gives a weak nod, puts his own knife aside.
"I guess," Max shrugs, lays back in her seat. "But the pain itself is definitely getting worse."
"Oh," Mike winces.
Max bites the inside of her cheek, looks down at her hands. There's this hurt in her eyes, despite her voice remaining leveled and calm. Mike doesn't push, stays quiet as he stares at the table.
"My hands feel weak, like, all the time. I can't walk or stand for long, too painful. Meds kinda help manage that," Max explains.
She says it like reading off a grocery list. Simple and almost distant. Mike regrets opening his mouth in the first place.
"But I guess it's just.. part of me," Max concludes, returns to chopping vegetables like nothing happened.
"I'm sorry," Mike can't help but say.
Max's expression softens. She blinks, clears her throat. Settles again before speaking.
"We manage. It's hard, but I'm not giving up that easily," she says.
"Yeah," Mike nods.
They exchange smiles across the table and return to their task. Some of that tension eases. The distant hum of the shower comes to a stop, then starts up again shortly after.
"Anyway," Max changes the topic. "I made a shit ton of bread rolls last night."
"Really?" Mike glances, feeling genuinely surprised.
"Yup," Max grins, smug. "I'm gonna need detailed reviews, though I already know they're fucking amazing."
"What's 'fucking amazing'? You?" Lucas walks in, freshly showered. He puts his solid hands on Max's shoulders and kisses her head, rests his cheek there. "Need help?"
"Just heat up the pan," Max rolls her eyes. Blush spreads over her nose, a fond smile decorates her face.
"Yes, ma'am," Lucas nods. He plants one more squeaky, cheesy kiss to Max's temple.
From there, they focus on preparing dinner. Chop up the rest of the veggies, Lucas fries them with some ground beef. Max quickly cleans up, Mike washes the dishes to be useful.
Will comes out of the shower, all pink cheeks and comfortable pajamas. He immediately joins in, helps set up the table. The four fall into seamless teamwork quickly, without even having to say anything.
Once sat, they eat. The food isn't anything fancy, but tastes like the greatest meal Mike has ever had after such a long and exhausting day. They eat and catch up more. Lucas pulls out a bottle of wine, ignores all weak protests.
"Come on. Just a little bit for your anniversary," he insists, already pouring the alcohol out.
"It's been, like, a week," Mike rolls his eyes.
"Don't care," Lucas glares, and pushes the glass up to Mike. "Two years is a big deal."
With long sighs, the two give in. Everyone toasts, takes a few small sips of the wine. It's enough to loosen them up just a little more. The awkwardness slowly fizzles out, until it's pretty much completely gone. Like they're sat in Mike's basement again.
Conversations blossom. Will fires up especially. He and Lucas jump from topic to topic, get so loud at times that Max has to gently scold them. She also forces the two guests to try her bread rolls. Mike almost wants to make a joke, but doesn't. They're genuinely amazing.
Even as the plates get emptied, they stay at the table. Laying back in their seats, talking through tired yawns. Max curls up to Lucas's side, and he hugs her around the waist. Mike holds Will's thigh under the table, still feeling a little awkward showing affection very openly.
Eventually, Lucas gets up to brew some tea. Mike declines and excuses himself to go shower instead. He drags his hand along the line of Will's spine as he gets up, then disappears down the hallway.
Back in the bedroom, their stuff is already unpacked, stacked up in neat piles in the closet. Will even left pajamas and towels for Mike, lined up nicely on the bed. So kind and considerate.
With a warm smile, Mike walks into the bathroom and takes a shower. It kind of feels like operating a plane at first. Everything is so different from their shoebox of an apartment back in New York. Still, Mike quickly figures it out and washes off the remnants of today, the chatting from the kitchen serving as background noise.
The house is dimmed and quiet by the time Mike gets out. He brushes his teeth, shuffles through the hallway back to the bedroom. Every other floorboard creaks under his bare feet.
Their temporary room is lit up softly by the bedside lamp, curtains sway slightly. Will stands by the bed, fluffing up the pillows. A loose shirt hangs off his shoulders, shorts accentuate his delicate legs.
Mike can't help but walk over and hug him from behind, draping over him like a protective blanket. Will lets out a little gasp that quickly turns into sweet giggles, melts into the embrace.
"Hey there," Mike murmurs, kisses the nape of Will's neck.
"Hey," Will chuckles.
"I missed you," Mike scrunches his nose, squeezes his boyfriend harder.
Will huffs out a laugh, rolls his eyes fondly. He pats the pillow down, steps back with Mike still wrapped around him. They stay like this for a bit, hidden away. Finally.
"They have a nice shower," Mike says, buries his face in Will's warm neck. He peppers kisses all over it, like making up for the entire day.
"Yeah," Will agrees. His breath trembles as Mike mouths at his pulse point and jaw, affectionate. "Just.. Lucas had to explain to me how to use it."
"I know, right?" Mike pulls off Will with a wet pop. His lips glisten.
"It's so different from ours," Will turns in Mike's hold, until they're face to face.
"So many fucking settings," Mike grimaces.
They laugh together, then kiss properly. Grins gliding over one another, hands holding on tight. Will's back curves, shaping itself around Mike's long and insistent arms.
Mike starts to push them both back, step by tiny step. Will follows, until his legs meet the bedframe. He interrupts the kiss, palms flattened against Mike's chest.
"Which side do you want?" Will asks.
"Huh?" Mike blinks, still a little dazed and sleepy.
"The bed. Where do you wanna sleep?" Will clarifies.
"Oh," Mike realizes.
They turn and look at the bed. It's simple, a double. Should fit both of them with ease. Problem is the placement. Back in New York, Mike and Will's bed is tucked into the corner. Will always sleeps by the wall, feels safer this way.
Lucas's bed rests in the middle, right under a window, with empty space on both ends. That's a bit more complicated.
"Which side do you want?" Mike asks. His hands knead Will's waist, an absentminded action.
"Mike," Will glares. "I asked first. You choose."
Mike frowns, but doesn't argue. He hums, thinking. On one side of the bed, there's a dresser, while the other has nothing. Mike points to the empty spot.
"There," he says.
"Okay," Will chirps.
"Easier to get out and make you breakfast," Mike adds, with a cheeky grin on his face.
Will gives him a look, but doesn't argue. They circle the bed and climb under the covers, pull the blanket over them. Will sits with his back to the headboard, takes a second to look around again.
Mike plops down, his hair spills over the pillow. Still a little damp from the shower, slowly curling into spirals. He looks up at Will, his softly lit up silhouette.
"Wanna leave the light on?" Mike asks, moves to kiss Will's bare thigh.
"I think so, yeah. Just for tonight," Will nods a little solemnly, pulls his knees up to his chest. His eyes dart around the room, getting familiar with it.
"Can leave it every night. I'll pay them back," Mike reassures, his voice tender and easy.
The words bring a smile to Will's face. His cheeks puff up, go a little rosy. He turns and looks at Mike, his gaze holding so much love. He cards his delicate fingers through Mike's curls, slowly relaxes.
"I wanna kiss you so bad," Mike mutters, nips at Will's thigh to let out some pent up affection.
"Then do it," Will chuckles.
Mike doesn't need to be told twice. He springs up immediately, eyes gooey and locked on Will's plump lips. Will spreads his legs to make room, his hands move to frame Mike's face. Mike slots against him perfectly, practically lays on top of him.
Their mouths come together in an intimate, loving kiss. Something they share countless times every single day, yet it still sets off fireworks inside them.
That first touch, the first shared breath, the closeness and contact. Tangled in the sheets, hidden away from the cruel wide world in their own little sanctuary.
Only it's different this time. They aren't alone. Lucas and Max are nextdoor. Judging by the lack of Lucas's snoring, they aren't asleep yet.
Mike's mind is floating too far away to really pay attention to that fact. He latches onto Will's lips, laps at him greedily. Squeezes his waist and thighs, frames his face, rubs his arms. Touches and memorizes him like it's the first time.
Will, in contrast, squirms. The room is completely different, the sheets and Mike smell like something else, and the knowledge that all that separates them from their friends is a single wall doesn't let him simply relax into the affection.
Each damp sound of their mouths dancing together feels so much louder. Every soft breath and hum is mortifying. Will's face explodes with blush, the heat spreads up to his ears and down his neck.
"H- Hold on," he says, finally manages to nudge Mike back. They separate with a pop, so loud that Will's anxious brain doesn't even have to amplify it.
"What? What is it?" Mike's face immediately sharpens in worry.
"Maybe we should, um.. be quiet," Will mutters, panting a little.
"Why?" Mike asks, genuinely confused.
Will stares at him, feels his blush deepen and reach his chest. He waits for Mike to get it, but it's fruitless. Instead, Will hesitantly nods towards the other bedroom. That seems to finally work.
"Baby, they don't care," Mike comforts. His expression relaxes, a small chuckle escapes him.
"I know," Will sighs and dips his head. His forehead meets Mike's shoulder. "Just.. I don't.."
He huffs. All words refuse to come out.
"Don't want them to hear?" Mike supplies. He cups the nape of Will's neck, drags a thumb along his hairline.
"Yeah," Will admits, nods against Mike's shoulder. "It feels, like.. embarrassing, I guess?"
He buries his face deeper in Mike's neck. Mike frowns, but gets it. He's been restraining himself all day, too. Of course, they have to do that when out in public. That part is nothing new, as much as it stings.
However, that feeling stayed even as they met up with Lucas and Max, as they got in the car, and even when they finally went inside the house. They're safe here, yet it's like there's this invisible wall, a tall fence holding them both back.
They reduced themselves to touches hidden under tables, lingering glances and casual affection. They aren't even sure why. Now, with the closed door and hidden away from any wandering eyes, they feel open again.
"Yeah. Okay," Mike nods.
Will pulls back. Their faces are mere inches apart again, breaths tickling each other. Will blinks his pretty eyes, licks his slightly swollen and kissed lips.
"Thanks," he mutters, smiles softly.
Mike simply nods, eyes crinkling. He leans in again, this time slower and more careful. They press their lips together softly, more reminiscent of their early kisses than what they're used to now.
Not as greedy or hurried, desperate for one another. They take their time, sharing shy and almost childlike pecks. Lips pursed, pressing in and in on an affectionate loop.
They laugh into it, holding each other's cheeks. Their noses smoosh and drag over one another. Will slowly sinks with every peck, until he's laying down on the pillow properly. Mike holds him through it, big palms enveloping his waist.
Their mouths still make little popping sounds, but at this point they can't be bothered to feel embarrassed about them. Exhaustion slowly takes over. Mike loses his aim, kisses the corner of Will's mouth, the mole sitting above it, his chin and jaw.
He yawns, deep and long, taking over his entire face. His cheek meets Will's chest, his own half of the bed abandoned. He settles, nuzzles against Will like a puppy preparing to sleep. Will's sweet giggle vibrates through his skull.
Will tugs the blanket over both of them, hug Mike's shoulders. Their lips still tingle. This feels much more familiar.
"Your heart is super loud," Mike comments, already half asleep.
"Shut up," Will mumbles, not that far behind. Mike laughs against him, hugs him tighter.
"I love you."
"I love you."
Cicadas sing their song outside the window. The curtains sway, late night breeze tickles Mike's back. Lucas starts to snore nextdoor. Mike groans quietly, knowing they'll have to deal with that for the next two weeks.
He and Will get taken into the sweet embrace of sleep shortly after. So far away from their apartment, yet feeling right at home at the same time.
