Archive of Our Own ^beta

They shouldn’t have done this, Will thinks in a hazy sort of panic, staring at the way Mike’s fingers curl around the bong as he inhales.

Mike coughs, not nearly as violently as before but still hard enough that Will can’t help but giggle. Mike grins around his coughs, then starts laughing which obviously leads to more coughing. 

They shouldn’t have done this.

“Shut up,” Mike rasps, and Will knows his grin is widening because he’s weirdly aware of his face stretching to accommodate it, it doesn’t feel like he’s smiling, it kind of feels like his face is just stretching. 

“I didn’t even say anything,” Will murmurs, soft and quiet. Gentle and way too high. 

It feels almost surreal, to be here so close to Mike and feel giggly and warm. The sun is bright, rays of it penetrating through Wills’ open windows and into his room. Reflecting Mike’s eyes, charming and bright. 

It suddenly feels too surreal. Getting high in his room with the boy he has a crush on and also has known since Will has use of reason. Mike looks ethereal in the sunlight, smile lazy and wide, hair curly from the humidity, soft and so inviting sitting right beside Will on the bed, legs crossed in front of his brother’s bong. It’s such a strange picture to paint, the both of them sitting in his new bedroom, getting high in the middle of the day. 

Will’s fingers suddenly itch to get a canvas, a piece of paper, hell a fucking napkin so he could draw Mike as he looks like right now. Smile shy, eyes heavy lidded but bright, cheeks pink. 

“You’re staring,” Mike’s saying as he leans over Will’s legs to put the bong on the floor beside Will’s bed. Why couldn’t he just put the bong on his side of the bed is a mystery Will’s not sober enough to even start to think. 

A stab of muted panic shoots through Will, and he immediately looks away with an embarrassed grin. “Sorry.”

“Mm it’s fine,” Mike says, and sprawls himself dramatically over Will’s legs after putting the bong on the floor. And then he just - lays there, over Will’s legs with his arms flopped on his sides and hair partially covering his face. 

His eyes are open though, not wide because they’re high and can’t stop smiling, but they’re open and looking up at Will. 

Will’s fingers physically flinch and he clenches them shut to stop himself. He’s filled with a sudden urge to either run his fingers all over Mike’s head, into his hair and his thoughts, or to grab a pencil and draw Mike over and over again until his fingers cramp. 

“Hi, Will,” Mike says, trying and failing to control his smile. 

Will can feel the tension in his shoulders melt away, and he sits a bit straighter to get closer to Mike. 

“Hello, Mike” Will whispers back, and both boys devolved into warm laughter. 

Mike covers his face with his big hands, eyes clenched shut and cheeks red. He looks so lovely and beautiful. 

“I’m high,” Will says, because it feels very important that he tells Mike this given that he can feel the way his eyes crinkle. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so conscious of the way his face moves. 

Mike makes that weird humming noise again, still laughing, and scoots closer to lay his head on Will’s lap instead of his legs. Will thinks that if he were anything but extremely high right now he would’ve had a panic attack the second Mike broke the careful barrier of separation between them.

“Yeah,” Mike agrees, looking up at Will from his spot in Will’s lap. “It’s a wonder Jonathan can even go out like this, I feel like… I can’t even control my limbs.” 

His arms gesture around slowly as he speaks, and Will laughs because he’s so, so in love. 

“Nah, he can’t,” Will confesses, looking away from Mike’s eyes and instead looking around the room as he remembers how his brother reacts when he’s high. “It’s a disaster and I’m pretty sure Mom knows.” His fingers somehow melt into Mike’s hair, fingers lighting biting into his scalp. “He can’t even hide it, Mike.  He’ll start talking nonsense like - like -“ Will laughs at the memory, and Mike laughs with him. “The night Mom was going to Alaska he had absolutely no idea what was going on. Just said, “Okay yeah cool” like it was normal for her to travel when we’ve never even flown outside of Hawkins-!” 

Mike laughs, loud and unabashed. And Will doesn’t know if he’s high off the weed or from having Mike’s undivided attention. 

They quiet down, slowly, still giggling as  Will’s fingers stroke along Mike’s hair without his permission. Mike hums again, eyes falling shut. “Do you think Nancy gets high with your brother?” 

Will snorts, brushing Mike’s fringe from his eyes and starting a path of counting the freckles on his cheeks. Mike has entire constellations, galaxies, across his face and Will can’t believe he hadn’t seen all of them before. When was the last time he dared stare directly at Mike’s face without looking away? “Probably, but I mean - she’s your sister, so you tell me,” he answers absently, it feels much more important to count the freckles on Mike’s blushing cheeks. 

Mike opens his eyes to stare at Will and they lock eyes. Will drops his finger from its spot where it was climbing on Mike’s temple. It’s probably weird to touch a friends’ face, right? “Nancy’s too stuck up to do it with anyone else that isn’t Jonathan, I’m pretty sure she’s done it at least once with him.” 

Will swallows, nods dumbly because Mike’s right here on his lap, cheeks pink and eyes red rimmed staring straight at him.

“And isn’t that insane?” Mike asks, looking between Will’s eyes before looking around the room. “That Nancy trusts Jonathan enough to do anything with him, the same way I do everything with you.”

Words get stuck somewhere in Will’s throat. 

“The Wheeler’s and the Byers will always be intertwined I think,” he says calmly, nonchalantly, like he isn’t rocking Will’s world. “And that’s, that’s really beautiful.”

Will clears his throat because he has to say something. “It is,” he agrees. 

Mike appears satisfied with his answer, looks away like he’s lost in his thoughts. “You know the months you were in California were so fucking weird man. Like - it was somehow like I’d lost a part of me I guess? I thought it was because I missed El, and I did, but really I was just lost because you weren’t there. I missed you, it was…It was weird to exist without you?. I don’t think I’ve ever had to exist without you longer than, like, a week. It sucked.”

Will’s heart swells, and he feels all sorts of warmth inside, like the sun itself is finally peeking from the shadows and into Will’s entire being after months of only having cloudy skies. “I think that’s the first time you’ve said you missed me.”

He says it with a teasing grin, fingers looping around a curl of Mike’s hair because he can’t keep his hands still - but Mike frowns, pouts his lip out like he does when Dustin or Lucas don’t let him pick out the movie he wanted to see. “I did miss you,” he insists, getting as worked up as he can when he’s slow and high. He’s so beautiful it hurts. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole. I have like -” he widens his eyes, opens up his hands in a big gesture, “dozens of letters I wrote to you and never sent.”

Will can’t hide his surprise. “What? You do?”

Mike rolls his eyes, the gesture a bit slow and jerky and dramatic. “Duh,” he says like it’s obvious even though it really isn’t. Will desperately wants to ask why he never sent them, wants to get mad at him for not sending them, for making Will think he didn’t care about him. He wants to know, he needs to. 

But it’s been months since they defeated Vecna. Since he almost died, looked at the devil in the face and decided he was going to live. Since he dropped ten feet to the ground and into Mike’s arms. Since Mike caught him and sobbed and sobbed into his hair, shaking all over. He doesn’t want to stay bitter, he’s tired living his life like he has all the time in the world. He’s not the same kid that got kidnapped to an alternate dimension, he’s tired of feeling scared and bitter and resentful.

So what he says is, “You’ll have to let me read them sometime,” gentle and inviting. 

Mike smiles back at him, cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. And Will is so in love, so, so gone for this boy he’s known his entire life. “Okay,” he agrees easily. “But you can’t make fun of me.”

Will lets out a surprised laugh. “Why would I make fun of you?”

Mike groans, and shifts his head to the side to hide his face into Will’s hip. Hiding into Will like he’s the safest place to be.  “Because,” he whines into the fabric of Will’s shirt, and doesn’t say anything else. 

Will giggles, Mike Wheeler is adorable. He shoves his fingers into Mike’s hair and makes a gentle fist in the nape of his neck, bringing his head back to meet Will’s eyes. “Because what.”

Mike lets himself get pulled, and Will marvels over how easy Mike is, how he lets himself be guided because he trusts Will, because the Wheelers and the Byers will always be intertwined. 

Mike’s face is pinker than before, and he looks up at Will with an embarrassed pout. “Because,” he drags the word out, and won’t meet his eyes. “I get all sappy and embarrasing. It’s why I never sent ‘em.” 

Will snorts, and his fingers somehow remain tangled between Mike’s strands, thumb smoothing his cheek. It feels very important to have the warmth of Mikes’ face on his palm. 

“Well then that’s exactly why I should read them. You know after months of nothing I deserve to know what you actually thought of me!” 

Mike rolls his eyes, still not looking at him, but grumbles out a “Whatever, fine,” to which Will grins triumphantly, poking Mike on his wrinkled up nose. 

“Good. And I won’t make fun of you,” he says, and goes back to running his fingers through Mike’s hair. Mike sinks back into the sensation with a pleasant sigh. Maybe it’s not so weird to invade a friends’ personal space. It’s not like Mike isn’t draped over Will’s lap. “Promise.”

“Mmkay good.”

“Your hair’s gotten really long,” Will says absentmindedly, eyeing the wild curls around his fingers. “And curly.”

“You got really broad,” Mike says out of absolutely nowhere. 

Will snorts out a surprised laugh because, what? “What do you mean? What does that have to do with your hair?”

Mike shrugs, sloppy and jerkily. “Thought we were mentioning things that changed about ourselves.”

Will pauses to think about it and yeah, he’s not exactly wrong. “I mean sure.”

Mike lowers his head and purses his lips, getting his point across, and continues. “You got, like, really broad.” His hands gesture widely but slowly as he speaks. He’s talking so slowly someone could say he’s strategically thinking each word he was going to say before he said them, when he’s actually just too high to rant at his normal babbling pace. “Like when I got to Cali and I saw you I was like “what” because you were so small and skinny in Hawkins, but in California you suddenly had like these massive shoulders and chest -”

Will bursts out laughing because really, what the fuck?

“Are you calling me fat?-”

“ No. You got broad.”

He can feel Mike getting worked up by this and it only makes him laugh harder even though he’s trying so hard to contain it. He feels like pure sunshine, like the last rays touching your cheeks during sundown. He feels like how he imagines the color beige would feel like, bright but warm. 

“Mike you almost shot up like - two entire feet -”

“Yeah but I still look like a toothpick, you look like a man. If it weren’t for your baby face of course like-” And then he’s off, getting up from Will’s lap like it’s very important that Will understands what he’s saying. He sits beside Will, facing him, hair a wild nest around his head and cheeks red in what appears to be distress or desperation. Will’s legs remain outstretched but he sits up straighter to show Mike he’s at least trying to pay attention. 

“Look at you,” Mike says, and places his big hands on Will’s shoulders. Just like that, Will’s no longer laughing. Mike quirks an eyebrow at him suspiciously, lips pursed to the side in what appears to be deep concentration, not noticing Will’s sudden stiffness. “Did you start going to the gym in Cali?”

“Uh - no. ” 

“See!” He squeezes Will’s shoulders for a second, digging in his nails into the muscle, and cups the sides of his neck - and Will is just sitting here letting himself get groped by his best friend/crush/murderer, because he’s definitely getting killed here. “So where did you get all this muscle.”

Will shrugs, because it is truly hard to focus on anything than the warmth of Mike fingers, the context of his words. 

Mike shakes his head like he’s disappointed in him and suddenly flops back down into his lap, getting comfy and situated on his spot. Which is apparently Will’s lap. His thigh? His hip? Will tries very hard not to think, but feels eternally grateful that at least Mike is no longer touching him face to face.

“I got awkwardly tall, you grew into your body. It’s different.” 

Will snorts and cards his fingers through Mike’s hair again, feeling a little bit more calm. He’s a little obsessed with the way his fingers sink into the curls. 

“Other than the fact that you shot up like two feet, the thing that took me off guard the most was the hair,” he says to try and diffuse the tension to go back to the main topic of his hair and not Will’s new apparent broadness.

Mike looks at him, suddenly serious, and it makes Will immediately nervous. “It looks good,” he insists, not wanting Mike to think it looks bad. Like really, Will’s had the same bowl cut most of his life, Mike can’t take his opinion too seriously. “Really good. I like it. I mean - it suits you.”

He can’t look away from Mike’s eyes, he feels trapped suddenly, like he’s ten feet in the air and only his favorite song can bring him back down. Mikes’ eyes are so brown and deep, how has anyone ever had the strength to look away is a mystery to Will.

Mike doesn’t say anything, and Will can’t shut up. “And like - your bone structure got really defined I guess? It just, it frames your face perfectly -”

Mike smirks, that half smile he gets when he’s right about something and smug about it. “You saying I got attractive, William Byers?” 

He looks so charmingly flirty and sweet that Will can feel his face get alarmingly hot, feels that warmth trail all the way to his neck as his heart pounds in his chest. 

“I didn’t - I meant like -“  He splutters. 

“Oh, so you’re saying I got ugly. ” 

Will jumps. “What! I literally haven’t said anything I -“ 

He knows Mike’s teasing. Logically he knows this of course. But for some fucking reason he can’t shut up. 

“I’m saying that -“ 

Mike keeps his stupid smirk, looking at Will like he has all the time in the world, the patience of a saint. “Oh, please, continue.”

“-That you also grew into your features like, you look fine! You don’t look bad. That’s what I meant.” He says, and he means to say it decisively but he thinks that the high pitched tone ruined it. 

Mike’s eyebrow quirks up, smile amused and eyes sparkling . “That’s what you meant, baby?”

Will can feel the warmth in his fucking ears. What the fuck is going on? Because it sounds an awful lot like he’s flirting. 

And baby? Baby? Where the fuck did that come from! Baby? It’s knocked into Will’s entire being and rocked him to his core. He feels his entire body temperature skyrocket so high that this would’ve definitely saved him from the Mind Flayer. Have Mike Wheeler call twelve year old Will “baby” and he would’ve been saved from the Mind Flayer in an instant. 

Mike laughs at Will’s embarrassment, so boyish and charming that Will wants to hide his face in Mike’s neck to conceal the stupid expression he knows he’s wearing. Mike’s definitely teasing. Right? Flirting? 

“Shut the fuck up,” Will grumbles instead, and promptly begins to attack Mike. 

Mike yelps at the assault, caught off guard, and they grapple and hit each other like they did when they were children, wrestling over missing quarters. 

Mike can’t stop laughing, but he puts up a good fight. They roll around in the bed, messing up the sheets, knocking down the pillows, and Will is suddenly glad Mike put the bong on the floor or it definitely would’ve fallen over. 

Will finally gets the upper hand because Mike is right, he may be taller but Will is broader, and they’re laughing so hard they’re too out of breath so Mike doesn’t really care. Will feels like he’s flying, soaring so high above, and it’s so freeing, being here with Mike, so different than when he was floating ten feet in the air and being held by Vecna. 

Will hovers above Mike’s lap, straddling but not touching him as he holds both of Mike’s wrists in his hands, pressing them against Mike’s stomach. “You lose,” he says, because if anything Mike’s always been a sore loser and it’s no different now. Even if it’s Will and he always lets him win. 

“No fair,” Mike whines, and knocks his head back into the only pillow that survived their fight, chest rising and falling heavily as he pants. “I’m high and like, not athletic.”

Will bursts out laughing. “Not athletic,” he mocks, letting go of Mike’s hand to air quote it. As soon as his hands are free they find purchase on Will’s thighs. “And you think I am?”

“You’re broad .” Mike complains, hands climbing to squeeze Will’s hips and shake him to make his point like Will’s somehow missing it. 

Will rolls his eyes, settles himself more comfortably on Mike’s lap. His fingers curl into fists and he gently bumps Mike in the chest to mime punching him. “You lose,” he repeats. “And I’m not athletic either, Michael. Just admit that you lost -“ 

“Nooo,” Mike whines, eyes squeezed shut as he shakes his head back and forth dramatically. 

Will giggles, and takes a moment to truly appreciate Mike. Takes in his hair fanned around his pillow, the pillow Will sleeps in. Takes in that Mike is here in his bed looking so happy and comfortable, smiling and out of breath. Will loves him so much it hurts between his ribs, he’s so filled with love for this boy he finds it impossible to ever resent him, to ever feel anything but perfectly happy and content by his side. 

Maybe it’s the weed. 

Or maybe it’s just Mike. 

Their breaths slow down almost in synch, and they stare at each other with stupid grins on their faces. “You’re a sore loser, Mike Wheeler.” 

Mike’s lips twitch with the effort to control his smile. His hands tighten around Will’s hips, all five fingers seeping warmth into his skin through his shirt, and Will is suddenly reminded of their compromising position. Straddling Mike’s lap, on his bed, the bed he sleeps in where Mike is laying so comfortably on, curls a dark halo around his head. Straddling Mike’s lap. On his bed. With Mike beneath him. Looking up at Will like he hung up all the stars in the sky. Do friends do this?

“And you’re a cheater, Will Byers,” he murmurs, thumbs rubbing circles on Will’s hips, dragging up his shirt to touch the skin beneath. 

It’s like they’re suddenly locked in their bubble, locked in the space between their eyes where nothing exists but them. It feels sacred. 

“Oh, I am?” Will asks, just as quietly, quirking up an eyebrow. 

“Obviously,” Mike replies, and his thumbs have successfully snuck beneath Will’s shirt, caressing his waist. 

Goosebumps rise along Will’s flesh even though Mike’s thumbs are a welcome warmth against the open window. 

“How so?” He asks, trying and failing to contain his grin. 

Mike squeezes his waist. All five fingers digging in. “Well you’re broader so you’re obviously stronger.”

Will hums, focuses on the fun part of the conversation while ignoring the way his heart thuds painfully in his chest. “Hmm I am?”

Mike nods decisively, not once moving his gaze away from Will’s. “Mhm. And I’m high so it’s easy to like - get the upper hand.”

“Oh, it is?” Will murmurs, licking his lips to stop his smile. 

Mike’s grin widens. It’s addictive to watch. “Mhm yeah and, and -“

“Please go on, don’t let me stop you.”

Mike’s eyes crinkle at the corners, knowing he’s being making fun of but not caring in the slightest. 

“And you’re prettier so like - I had to let you win.” 

Will bursts out laughing, head pressing against Mike’s chest momentarily, and Mike giggles with him. He’s so absurd. Mike Wheeler is so absurd. “Now you’re just talking out of your ass,” Will says, sitting back up to look at Mike’s face. “Did I win because I’m stronger or prettier?”

Mike pretends to think, humming and breaking away from Will’s stare to look at his body. It makes Will self conscious, suddenly aware of the compromising position they’re in. It makes the moment more serious, no longer two boys wrestling and sharing giggles because they’re high. But something more, something more intimate, more serious. Will crosses his arms over his chest protectively. 

Mike looks up at Will, and it strikes Will somewhere between his ribs, how good Mike looks beneath him, so easy and soft. “Hmm, because you’re prettier.”

It’s comforting, to have his eyes back on Will. On familiar territory. His heart is a frantic bird in his chest, and he feels warm all over, but at least this he can deal with - has dealt with ever since he got his crush on Mile. He lowers his arms and pokes Mike on his cheek -  right where a line appears whenever he smiles.  

“I thought you said I was broad.“

“You are,” Mike says. 

“So am I pretty or broad?” Will quirks an eyebrow. 

Are they flirting? Is that what they’re doing? Did they truly defeat Vecna? Or will Mike’s voice transform and this has just been part of the illusion? 

“Both,” Mike replies immediately, long fingers curling around his waist in a comforting gesture. Almost like he’s trying out how Will’s waist fits against his hands. 

Will snorts, and Mike pouts. Okay so it’s Mike and not actually Vecna. He doesn’t think Vecna could recreate Mike’s pout so perfectly. 

Mike promptly starts rambling, as he often does, but so much more worse now that he’s high. “No, because you’ve got these big, warm, bambi eyes, and dumb haircut -“

“Hey!-“

“And these long, long eyelashes that like, flutter so innocently and mischievously, but you’ve also got these broad shoulders-“ His hands release his waist to run along Will’s shoulders, tightening at random places to make his point, before diving back down into his shirt. “And big, artist hands and strong nose and -“ His eyes lock up into Will’s, and he stops his rambling to stare up at him. Will kind of wants to eat him alive. “And you’re pretty and broad.” He finishes with a shrug. Completely unabashed and unashamed. Did Mike smoke more than him? He suddenly feels dizzy with the words. 

It feels like they’re toeing dangerously close to a territory Will has only dreamed about, and is deadly terrified of. Territory Vecna abused when he almost killed Will. 

Will clears his throat, his tongue feels too dry. He thinks he would kill for some water right now. 

“I’m either pretty like a girl or broad like a boy. I don’t think you can be both.” 

Mike rolls his eyes like somehow Will’s being the difficult one. “Boys can be pretty too, you know? Pretty…pretty like boys.”

Will’s heart stutters in his chest. “You don’t even know what you’re saying,” Will protests, looking between Mike’s eyes to see if he’s joking or truly believes what he’s saying. 

Mike frowns. There’s a long silence…and then, “You’re annoying,” Mike says decisively, and that cuts the tension. 

Will snorts as he smacks a hand into Mike’s face. Mike splutters, and Will presses his fingers into Mike’s cheeks, squishing his face together and bringing his own face closer to his. “ You’re annoying.” He asserts, and wow, he’s feeling the bone structure in Mike Wheele’s face. Surely this was hand crafted by the gods and Will’s just touching it like it’s nothing. 

Mike grins, because he’s dumb like that and thrives off being the center of attention. 

“Yeah. And you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen,” he says between the fingers digging into his face, trying to grin. 

Will shakes his head, lets go of Mike’s face to cross his arms over his chest. He doesn’t miss the way Mike’s eyes drop down to it, or the way his fingers tighten around his waist. Will is broad, his shirts are getting tighter and his pants progressively shorter. He still hasn’t quite grown into his body yet, and even though Mike’s taller, laying splayed out carefree like he is, Will looks a lot more intimidating looking down at him.  “Are you making fun of me?” He asks, just to knock the stupid grin off Mike’s face. He knows they’re teasing, but he needs Mike to drop his act because he knows that as soon as he’s not high, he’s going to overanalyze the entire thing and never want to speak to Mike again. 

He’s expecting Mike to panic, to quickly retract everything said and say he’s just fucking around, high and not making sense. It’s the truth Will expects because it’s the only logical explanation, and Mike will retract everything and apologize if he made Will uncomfortable and they’ll order pizza and it’ll be fine. 

But no, what he gets is the world’s biggest puppy eyes because Mike’s a fucking idiot and Will doesn’t know when his best friend suddenly got so sincere, but here he is, big wounded look on his face. “No,” he says quietly. “I would never make fun of you.”

Will quirks an eyebrow, making a show of thoroughly looking at Mike like he’s analyzing his sincerity. 

Mike lets himself be studied, furrows his eyebrows like he’s annoyed Will’s being difficult even though Will’s being perfectly reasonable. They stare at each for what feels like ages, and Will’s body feels like the lightest thing in the world but also the heaviest. Mike’s eyes trail down his face, lock on his mouth, and Will licks his lips automatically. Mike’s eyes snap back to his, and there’s a weird energy in the air, a tension Will can feel in his stomach, in the way Mike’s fingers dig into his waist. 

“We should-” Will starts. 

“Make out.”

 “Eat -” Will says at the same time.

There’s an unbearably long silence afterwards. 

“I - What?” Will asks after at least a full thirty seconds of pure white noise going through his head.

Mike looks between his eyes, snapping back and forth like he doesn’t quite know where the words came from but still wants to know what Will thought about them. 

“Are you hungry?” Mike asks, and Will is getting whiplash by the conversation, is so fucking lost by what’s going on he doesn’t even know how to answer. 

“I - Yes?” 

Mike nods like that makes perfect sense, eyes still knocking back and forth between Will’s, dropping down to his mouth before snapping back up. 

“Okay. Maybe we can get a pizza. What do you think?” 

Will doesn’t reply, just keeps staring at Mike because what the fuck? Mike just said they should make out, right? What the fuck did he mean by that and why is he pretending like it’s a normal thing to say in conversation. Will’s hearing correctly, right? Like, he knows he’s high, but he also knows what he heard and he definitely heard something about making out. 

“I’ll pay,” Mike offers, like that’s what has Will hesitant. “I brought money so don’t even worry about it.”

“I… Okay.” Will says, because what the fuck else is he supposed to say. 

Mike’s eyes crinkle at the corners and he smiles, stupid dimples appearing on his cheeks. “Okay big guy,” he says, and taps Will’s waist like Will’s a fucking dog or something. “Let’s get you something to eat.” 

Will obediently climbs off his lap, moving to sit with his legs dangling over the bed as Mike stands, stretching his long limbs and sighing contently. His hair’s all mused from the wrestling and Will’s fingers, and his shirt’s all wrinkled, and he’s the most gorgeous thing Will has ever seen in his life. 

“C’mon,” Mike says, running a palm down the back of Will’s head and cupping the nape of his neck. The contact has Will so fucking dizzy and confused he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to say. It would be overwhelming any other day, and now, high and after being asked to make out, it has Will’s heart beating out of his chest. “Sausage and pepperoni?”

Now that Will’s sitting and Mike’s the one that’s standing, he looks impossibly tall. Tall and lanky, and huge. He should sit back down, Will thinks, lay back down next to Will and stay in their own secluded little bubble. 

“I really want to kiss you,” Mike says, and Will’s eyes snap back up to his so violently he thinks he hears his own neck crack. 

“Don’t,” Will croaks, before his brain has even processed the words. “Don’t say that.”

“Okay,” Mike says easily, still staring. And what the actual fuck is going on? Is Will hallucinating? Is the weed making him hallucinate? “So sausage and pepperoni?”

Will stares dumbly at him. “Um - yeah. Yes.”

“Cool,” Mike replies and then just turns around and leaves Will sitting dumbly in his own room. “Better come with me or I’m making you pay!”

That jerks Will into action and he follows Mike like a lost puppy, like he’s done his entire life, following Mike blindly and trustfully inside his own home. 

They make it downstairs into the kitchen where the phone is, and they have stairs now because Will doesn’t live at their old house anymore. There simply wasn’t enough space to house both him and Jonathan and El. Will hated that old house anyway, can’t imagine living there without looking over his shoulder constantly, waiting for a Demogorgon or Vecna himself to open his front door. And even though Jonathan is moving soon because of College, and El takes turns between staying here and staying with Hopper, the four of them live here comfortably, and more importantly, now Will has enough space to actually invite friends over with more space to hangout. 

Mike saunters to their phone, pops his hip against the counter and calls the pizza place. 

His eyes are so red rimmed there’s no mistaking he’s high, it doesn’t look like he’s crying, or has allergies, he looks stoned. His shirt is rumpled and there’s a lazy smile permanently on his lips, and he’s looking at Will like he’s the only person in the entire world. 

Jonathan’s out with Nancy, she came to pick him up and drop Mike off after he begged her to, because even though Mike can drive already and has his license, the only car he’s allowed to drive is Nancy’s and she refuses to borrow it. Eleven is out with Max, and Will’s pretty sure he heard she’s spending the night. And his mom is working, so it’s just Will and Mike, the entire day together. They could go out, Mike brought his bike, they could go to the arcade, reunite with Dustin and Lucas, play D&D. But after Will confessed he’d tried a little bit of Jonathan’s weed, Mike couldn’t believe it and insisted they should try it together - so they did. 

And now Mike’s rolling his eyes into the phone, hand reaching towards Will to curl around the sleeve of his shirt, fingers playing with the material as he talks like he can’t keep his restless energy still even when he’s stoned. Will instinctively moves closer, doomed to constantly orbit around Mike without question. If Mike wants to fiddle with the sleeve of his shirt to keep his hands busy then Will will just move closer. 

Mike rolls his eyes again and hangs up the phone, Will immediately misses the warmth of him fidgeting with his shirt. “Thirty minutes,” Mike announces, hip still popped against the counter like he doesn’t have enough energy to move. 

Will nods, decides to put distance between them and goes to the fridge to get some water because there’s something wrong with his tongue? It feels thick in his mouth and his throat is so dry - he drowns an entire glass before even remembering Mike’s there. 

He looks back to the counter, and Mike’s still leaning against it, staring at Will through heavy lidded eyes. “Want some?” He asks, and goes to pour Mike some into his own glass without waiting for a reply. 

He hands Mike his glass, and pours himself another one. Mike drowns his in five seconds flat, and goes to pour himself some more. “Holy shit,” Mike says leaning against the fridge, and Will giggles. 

“It’s like my entire mouth is so dry and thick. Feels heavy.” Mike says and Will nods his head in agreement, watching the way Mike’s lips purse at the sensation. 

Will laughs, and Mike just watches him. It’s a bit unnerving, to have Mike’s undivided attention after months of being disregarded or zero contact. And yeah, after Vecna they got close again, even before he and El broke up - details still lost to Will - he was trailing around Will like a puppy, and it was like he gained Mike back. Like the whole party gained Mike back but especially Will. 

Mike apologized, they hugged, and now Mike comes over whenever he’s free, which is nearly everyday. They’re attached to the hip just like they were when they were kids, Mike rides over to his house or Will goes to his. They obviously still hangout as a party, and sometimes El and Mike will giggle into each other and share jokes Will or the rest of the party don’t understand, but ultimately Mike sits next to him, turns around to look for Will when he feels like he’s gotten too far, makes sure to always check in with him first. 

At first it annoyed the shit out of Will, he hated the attention, hated to feel so fragile and delicate, like he needed to be constantly taken care of so he didn’t have a meltdown. And after a second fight where Will exploded and Mike cried, it had seemed like Mike’s attention wasn’t forced, but genuine and instinctive. 

Mike pushes from the counter and walks toward Will, and even though there’s enough distance between them, he still feels way too close. Will cocks his head to the side, blinking slowly. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike says. “If I made you - uncomfortable.” Everything’s a little too hazy right now and Will feels like he’s still not properly processing whatever the fuck’s going on.

Will drops his gaze, darts his eyes over Mike’s shirt, fiddles with the glass in his hand as he weighs the words in his brain. “For - for what?”

Mike rolls his eyes, and Will only knows he does this because his entire body moves with the gesture. Mike will always be dramatic. 

“For wanting to kiss you.”

The wording of it, the wording makes Will flinch. It‘s not a -“I’m  sorry for saying we should make out”, or “I’m sorry for saying I wanted to kiss you.” 

No. It’s not any of those things. He’s apologizing for wanting to kiss Will. Because he apparently wants to kiss Will, and it feels like it’s something he should apologize for. 

“You…don’t want to kiss me, Mike,” Will murmurs, looking at Mike head on. 

It’s the wrong thing to say. 

Mike’s face screws up to the side and he takes a step back like Will’s pushed him. “Um - what?”

Will sighs. “Ugh. It’s fine, Mike. We don’t have to talk about it but just…don’t say shit like that. C’mon let’s go watch a movie.” 

He leaves his glass in the sink and goes to move past Mike, but Mike touches his elbow at the last second, urging Will to stop. 

“Listen I’m, like, really fucking high right now. But I’m pretty sure - no, I know - I want to kiss you all the time. I think about it - like constantly, obsessively.”  Will’s eyes widen, and Mike keeps talking. “I want to make it clear that I think about kissing you all the time, okay. It’s not because I’m, like, high right now. Okay?”

Will doesn’t even know what to respond. He just stares at Mike as he gets progressively pinker and pinker, eyes wide and lips pressed tightly together. He looks like he doesn’t know what to do or say but the words are out so he’s committed to them. 

Will’s pretty sure friends don’t kiss each other on the mouth. 

Do they?

“Is that, like, weird?” Mike asks, fidgeting with his fingers. 

Will swallows, still staring. “Very,” he replies, and watches Mike’s face fall. “Kiss me?”

He doesn’t know where the words came from, but Mike takes one second to look at Will before he’s surging forward, cupping Will’s face and pressing his lips to his. 

Will stays frozen, eyes wide because surely this is Vecna and if he closes his eyes Mike will turn into Vecna and a clawed hand will cup his face and all his limbs will start cracking and - 

Mike’s lips are soft, and his hands are warm on Will’s face. He leans back, and Will can feel his curls tickle against his forehead. His breath against Mike’s. 

His brain chants Mike. Mike. Mike. Mike over and over again. 

Mike searches between Will’s eyes, strokes Will’s cheeks like he’s the most precious thing he’s ever had between his hands, and leans back in to kiss him. Somehow Will’s hands end up clutching the bottom of Mike’s shirt, and he gasps into the second kiss, eyes sliding shut on their own. 

Will doesn’t know what he’s doing, he’s only been kissed twice before, the first time doesn’t even count given that it was in kindergarten and a dare, and the second time was in California with a girl that took him completely by surprise. So he doesn’t really know what he’s doing but following Mike’s lead and focusing on keeping him as close as he physically can. 

It’s still the best thing he’s ever experienced in his life. 

Mike deepens the kiss, pushing into Will until Will’s shuffling backwards, his back colliding with the sink. He gasps in surprise, fingers tightening on Mike’s shirt, pulling him closer. Mike tastes good, like the candy he’s suddenly obsessed with and weed and something so eerily Mike. So familiar and his that Will wants to fucking cry. 

As easily as Mike’s pushing him, he’s pulling, pulling and pulling Will until Mike’s the one stumbling backwards in an awkward shuffle of too long limbs. Will laughs into his mouth, because he’s still very much high and this is so surreal he can’t just help but laugh, and Mike laughs with him, breathless and happy. 

He keeps pressing kisses into Will’s smiling mouth like he can’t get enough of it, pressing Will closer and closer. “Come here,” he says, and Will giggles again because it’s physically impossible for him to get any closer, but he follows Mike anyway because it’s what he does. It’s what they do. 

“Get up here,” Mike says, and Will pulls away to look up at him for the first time, confused and breathless and so, so in love. 

Mike’s cheekbones are cherry pink, eyes heavy lidded and smile shy. Will tightens his hands around him. He looks so good Will wants to - wants to crawl inside of him and stay there the rest of his life. Wants to bask in the warmth and safety of Mike Wheeler. 

Mike guides Will, turning him around and pushing him into the counter next to the phone. Will gets it suddenly, and even though Mike’s only a few inches taller than him, he still hops up onto the counter, hands immediately reaching for Mike. Like this, Mike’s the one that has to lean up to kiss him, eyes heavy lidded, expression sinful. He looks so good, looking up at Will so eagerly and focused. It’s the most addictive picture in the world. 

“My neck hurt,” Mike says into his mouth, like Will asked for an explanation. Will laughs, because while Mike is taller, he only has like two or three inches to Will - not that much of a height difference. He’s too dramatic for his own good. 

“Bullshit,” Will says, pressing his forehead against Mike’s and cupping his face as Mike laughs, caught.

Mike steps into the space between Will’s legs, hands spread across his thighs, fingers wide and warm “I like looking up at you,” he admits. 

Will bites his lip and has to hide his face in Mike’s shoulder with a pained groan, hands crossing behind Mike’s neck in a hug. 

He feels embarrassed and sweet, is filled with the sudden urge giggle and kick his feet like a middle schooler. “You’re such an idiot, Mike Wheeler.”

Mike laughs, nuzzling the side of Will’s face like a cat. “C’mere,” Mike whines, big hand cupping the side of Will’s face to pull him back and into his mouth. 

Will lets himself be guided back, and they’re kissing again, comfortable and open mouthed. Will still doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he feels he must be doing a pretty good job given that this is the best thing he’s experiencing and Mike doesn’t seem to be complaining. It’s all entirely too nice and hazy, too dreamlike. Mike’s warm, so warm and sweet. 

Mike bites his lip and runs his tongue over the sting before sucking it into his mouth. It’s light, but it still makes Will moan, makes him tighten his legs around the narrow of Mike’s hips. He immediately pulls back, embarrassed, face hot as a hand comes up to cover his mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, the same time Mike says, “Holy shit,” and slaps his hand away from Will’s mouth to attack it with his own. 

They kiss hungrily now, deep, and every nerve inside Will’s body feels like it’s been electrified - and suddenly he can understand why people sneak out their houses to see their partners, why they cut class behind the bleachers, why they ditch their friends. Nothing feels better than having Mike in his arms, his mouth against Wills’. Nothing could possibly feel better than having Mike trail kisses down Wills’ cheek, follow a path down his throat, pecking his neck like Will’s a precious artifact. 

Will bites his lip, tries very hard to keep his mouth shut so he doesn’t release any more embarrassing noises. His fingers dig into Mike’s scalp, pulling at his hair and Mike doesn’t hesitate to groan, to hiss and climb back up to meet Will’s lips. 

“Holy shit,” Will’s the one to gasp now, giggling between the hungry and open mouthed kisses. It’s entirely too intoxicating, having Mike between his legs, feeling the jut of his hipbones against Will’s knees. 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, trading open kisses with roaming hands, it feels like it could be seconds or maybe hours. Will thinks he could honestly stay here the rest of his life and still never get enough of it but - 

The doorbell rings, and Will pulls back with a gasp, lips tingly. A string of saliva connects his mouth to Mike’s, and it’s the single hottest thing Will knows he’ll ever experience in his entire life. 

Mike doesn’t waste a second and goes back to trailing open mouthed kisses down Will’s throat, his hands tight around Will’s hips as he nibbles and bites near Will’s Adam’s apple. 

“Mike,” Will says, hand buried deep in Mike’s hair. “Mike.”

“Mhm?” Mike murmurs as he bites into Will’s neck. The doorbell rings again, multiple times now like the person on the other side is impatient. 

“Mike,” Will gasps. “The door.” 

Mike ignores him, opting to kiss up Will’s throat and gently nibble on his jaw. Will twitches, releases a tiny whimper he’ll be ashamed of for the rest of his life. He pushes at Mike’s shoulders, urging him back. “The door, Mike. Someone’s - at the door.”

Mike finally pulls back enough to look at Will, puppy eyes heavy lidded and confused. His forehead presses against Wills’, and he pecks his lips again. 

Will giggles, “Mike, get back,” he tries, but lets himself be kissed, smiling the entire time. “There’s someone at the door, dumbass.” 

“I don’t care,” Mike says, going back in to kiss him. Will laughs, immediately leaning in to kiss him even as his hands come up to his shoulders to urge him back. 

Someone starts pounding at the door, and that finally seems to jerk Mike back into reality. “Shit,” he says, pulling back, and his voice sounds rough. He looks a little dazed, fingers tight around Will’s hips, lips puffy and red. He’s so hot and Will is so embarrassed. 

Will presses his hands against his eyes, he feels hot all over, his ears, his neck, his face. “Go get the fucking door please,” he says from between his hands, and Mike laughs. They’re still too fucking high for this. 

“Shit okay,” Mike says, giggling. “I’ll - I’ll be right back then.” 

He takes a tiny step back from the space between Will’s legs, awkward like he doesn’t know how to leave, and it feels wrong and weird. Mike should stay here, with Will. 

Will gives him a shove, and Mike stumbles with a bright grin. Then abruptly turns around and goes for the door. He really is just an eager puppy. 

Will stays right where he is, hands pressed against his too hot cheeks. He feels dizzy with arousal, confusion and pure elation. 

He hears excited chatter from the door and realizes that oh - that must be the pizza. Will had forgotten they had even ordered it, he idly wonders if Mike even remembers they ordered it. He doubts Mike did. The thought is confirmed when he sees Mike running up the stairs, muttering, “Fuck, lemme get my wallet real quick!” 

Will hops down from the counter, too hot, still embarrassed, and too high. He goes into the living room, giving an awkward nod to the driver as he passes by the front door - and then Mike is back, smiling too big and too obvious. God, Mike is so obvious, and so oblivious about it it’s painful to watch. He’s licking his lips, eyes too crinkled and heavy lidded, smile too big as he hands the poor teenager a ten dollar bill. Will ignores whatever conversation they’re having and goes into the living room, focuses very hard on what movie put on as Mike returns. 

Mike throws his body on the sofa beside Will, pizza box in one hand and two cokes in the other. His hand is so big they almost dwarf the sodas. Will looks away before he’s caught staring. “Here,” Mike is saying, and hands him a coke. He opens the pizza box on his lap, gives the first slice to Will. “What are we watching?”

And just like that Will is softening, relaxed and calm. “Just some - some old movies I used to see with Bob.” 

Mike nods, takes a bite of his pizza and says, “Cool!” 

Will settles back, comfortable and relaxed and so, so happy. They have to talk, they have to sort things out, figure out what fuck was that, what to say to El - when they’re sober. But for now…for now Will is content in being high and watching shitty movies with Mike, comfortable in the knowledge that they’ll always be best friends.