Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

five

Will wakes up with a headache from hell. He regrets making fun of Mike for being so hungover before.

He’s alone in bed, which is… new. Sure, at home, ever since they got back to Hawkins, Will has been sleeping alone with no trouble, but he’s not in his own bed now, is he? He’s in Mike’s. He’s in Mike’s room. And Will’s somehow let himself learn that being in Mike’s space means waking up to the heat of Mike’s body against his own, or at the very least, with one of their arms half-heartedly thrown around the other’s middle.

He never realized how cold it feels to wake up alone, but now he surely is. And not only that, he can smell the wisps of Mike’s body wash on the sheets and pillows around him, can feel the cold spot where he was most likely sleeping beside him with his fingertips, since his arm is extended that way, outside of the blanket. Will stares, eyes half-open, at the empty space, reflecting on last night. Reflecting on the whole month of November and December, really.

Why did Mike kiss him the night they went out to that party? Why has he kept doing it since, looking not even a little flustered or nervous about it? It’s weird. Will doesn’t remember anything changing that could’ve triggered it. What is he missing? Because this is ridiculous. Mike got upset over him having other people’s numbers and not telling him about it because—because why? Because he got jealous?

Now, hold on, Will’s brain cuts in, skeptical, why would he be jealous? You’re just getting your hopes up.

He’s gonna throw himself off the top of a building, holy shit. Will is gonna steal Mike’s bike and head all the way to the ruins of Hawkins Laboratory, climb to the roof, and jump. He sits up, ignoring his pounding head, and looks over to the nightstand. An aspirin and a glass of water sit there, innocent and inviting. Will downs them both with shaking hands as he remembers Mike undoing his belt and pulling down his zipper, Jesus Christ, Will’s been ignoring this for too long, hasn’t he?

That can’t be platonic. It can’t. He can’t imagine Lucas and Dustin doing the same thing for him, he can’t imagine doing that for them. Hell, he can’t imagine Mike doing that for literally anyone, ever. He’s prickly like a cactus, would rather die than say sorry even though he would literally die for his friends, but Mike just—that level of tenderness. Kneeling down to take off Will’s shoes. Looking like he can’t stay mad at Will for the life of him.

Mike wouldn’t even carry Holly when she was a baby because he didn’t like that she pulled his hair. Will refuses to let his self-deprecation get the better of him this time. Maybe he’s getting this all wrong, maybe he’s being stupid and Mike is gonna turn around and say that yeah, no, this is absolutely one-hundred percent platonic, he just feels that close and comfortable with Will. But maybe not.

Will doesn’t like betting on maybes. It rarely gets him anything good. But he’s certain he’s gonna go insane if he doesn’t do something about it, because now he’s hurt Mike, and that’s the last thing he’s ever wanted to do at any point in his life.

He waits a little bit until his headache doesn’t feel like a hammer trying to crack his skull open. Then, he finally stands from the bed, makes his way into the bathroom to brush his teeth—yes, he has a toothbrush at the Wheeler’s, why wouldn’t he?—and starts to head down the stairs.

The house is extremely quiet this morning. Will figures that Ted and Karen are driving their relatives to the airport, and that by this time, Jon must have already picked Nancy up for a day-long date. He has no idea if any of their friends slept over, but considering how Mike never came back downstairs and how tense things were, he can’t image that they did. There’s only noise in the kitchen, so Will approaches with careful steps, his shoulders a little hunched.

Holly is sitting on the island, drawing into her brand-new coloring book. Mike is at the stove, cursing under his breath at what seem to be slightly-burned scrambled eggs. How Mike manages to burn scrambled eggs is beyond Will, but it makes him smile at the familiarity of the sight, remembering similar occasions at the dorm’s kitchen.

Holly notices him first, and instantly calls out for him. “Will! Come, come, isn’t this so cool?!”

Her voice is a little too much when Will’s dealing with a hangover, but he ignores the pain and approaches, trying not to take personally the way Mike’s gone stiff and doesn’t turn to look at him. He lets his eyes fall on Holly’s drawings and can’t help but beam. “Oh god, Holly, you’ve gotten so good—how’d you like the pencils I got you?”

“They’re magical!” Holly practically shrieks, bouncing on her chair and pulling at Will’s wrist so he’ll sit down next to her. “They mix so pretty! Thank you so much!”

“I’ll have to get you some proper art books next year at the rate you’re going,” Will ruffles her hair, trying to contain his excitement. The Wheelers are not exactly the most… supportive family, when it comes to stuff like this. Nancy isn’t around anymore to encourage Holly’s creative endeavors, and well, neither is Mike, who has always found it difficult to do so anyways. He’s glad he can give her this. “You’re way too good for drawing books, honestly. Maybe you’ll surpass me one day, huh?”

Holly gasps like he just spoke blasphemy. “Never! Your binder is soooooo good!”

Mike chokes, and Will frowns in confusion. “My binder?”

“Uh-huh,” Holly nods, looking down at her drawings and grabbing a green pen to keep at it, pouting her lips. “The binder with all the art! You know, the one Mike hides under his bed—”

“Holly!” Mike snaps, and Will shifts his wide, shocked eyes towards him. Mike’s face is burning scarlet, and he’s holding two breakfast plates that he practically slams down on the kitchen island. Holly cheerfully reaches for her own, not bothered at all by her brother’s outburst. “I told you to stop snooping around my room!”

“It wasn’t even under your bed this time,” Holly sniffs, carefully slicing a sausage down the middle, tongue poking out between her lips. Will just stares at Mike, mouth open. “I saw you looking at it this morning in the living room—”

“Oh my god,” Mike shakes his head, growing impossibly redder. “I’m gonna kill you.”

“This binder,” Will speaks, though it would probably be best if he remained quiet, considering how freaked out Mike looks. Still, the petty part of him is… curious. Besides, he’s gotten so much grief over the lack of explanations from Mike, maybe he can give him some back, right? So, Will grabs his breakfast plate, noticing that his eggs are actually cooked just the way he likes it, and ignores Mike’s glare, looking at Holly. “What’s in it, exactly?”

“All your pretty drawings from like, forever,” Holly happily provides, going so far as to giggle. “It’s like—time travel! You were really bad and then you got really good.”

Jesus. That’s—kinda a hit to his ego, but he gets what she’s trying to say, and he can’t help but side-eye Mike, because the last time Will felt like he was really bad was before middle school. Has Mike… collected all of those drawings? Seriously?

“How come I didn’t know about this binder?” Will asks out loud, less towards Holly and more towards Mike, who is now tearing a piece of toast apart in his hands, not even properly eating it. “Could’ve used some of it to build my portfolio, or something. Maybe for an art project.”

“Mike’s real creepy about it,” Holly shrugs, throwing her brother a dirty look. Mike makes a face at her, squeezing his toast like he wants to throw it at her. Holly purses her lips and then throws Will a surprisingly mischievous grin that reminds him that this is Nancy Wheeler’s little sister. “He looks at it for hours. Once, I saw him pet one of the pages—”

“Holly, why don’t you just finish your breakfast and quiet down for a bit, huh?” Mike cuts in, pointing a finger at her, taking a deep breath, shifting his weight on his feet.

“What’s in it for me?” Holly asks, raising her chin, and Will chokes on a bite of his eggs. Holy shit.

“I’ll get you a puppy for your birthday,” Mike promises, which is some bullshit because there’s no way Karen Wheeler is letting a dog near any of her furniture. But Holly is a bit of a gullible kid still, who actually seems to consider it with suspicion, looking at the way she squints her eyes. Mike scrambles and looks around the room for inspiration. His eyes land on Will, and don’t move from him. The eye contact feels electric. “I’ll get Will to give you art classes?”

“What?” Will lets out, though it’s mostly drowned out by Holly screaming DEAL! at the top of her lungs. Not that he minds the idea, it’s just—wow. Low fucking blow, though he guesses it’s deserved. Holly shakes his shoulder, so Will forces a smile towards her, not wanting to kill her enthusiasm. “I mean—great, it’s great, I can’t wait to see your progress…”

Still, he doesn’t like the way Mike is looking at him, like he can’t wait to look away. Like he’s still licking his wounds. It hurts in a way that makes him want to fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness, and Will doesn’t even know what, exactly, it is that he did to upset Mike. Because even if out of some miracle Mike is jealous, they’re not dating. What right does he have to be this upset?

“Can we talk for a second?” Will asks him directly, and Mike very pointedly doesn’t look at him as he considers this. He seems embarrassed and angry, his mouth twisted, brows furrowed. It reminds Will of a garage under the pouring rain and a loud roller skate rink. And he can’t do that again. “Mike, please. I’m serious. We need to talk.”

The phrasing makes Mike flinch, and he hesitates for entirely too long. Holly looks between them and whispers: “Oooh, Mikey’s in trouble.”

“Holly,” Mike protests, but it’s half-hearted, not having any of the heat from earlier. He lets out a deep sigh and nods at Will, gesturing him out of the kitchen with a quick hand. Will swallows one last piece of toast and eggs and stands, stepping under the kitchen threshold, Mike on his heels—

“Wait!” Holly calls, making both of them turn. She points above them with a smile that’s a little too knowing for Will’s taste. “Mistletoe!”

Mike loses all color in his face. “Holly, not now, we—”

“Nuh-uh!” Holly shakes her head, crossing her arms. “Rules are rules! Nancy said that if you don’t kiss under the mistletoe then you’ll have bad luck for the next seven years!”

“That’s breaking mirrors,” Will mumbles to himself, but he’s honestly quite done with the situation and he doesn’t have it in him to argue with a child over a goddamn mistletoe kiss. He turns towards Mike to say as much—and his expression makes him freeze.

He looks done, as well, but with Will rather than Holly. His arms are crossed, it’s the less relaxed that Will’s ever seen him around him in literal years. Mike looks back at him, perhaps sensing Will’s shocked staring, and their eyes meet. Mike’s expression remains guarded, his jaw clenches with stubbornness—he’s not falling into the same trap he was last night, and for the first time ever since this whole situation started, perhaps even before it, Will realizes with certainty that Mike doesn’t want to kiss him right now.

It hurts more than it should. “Mike…”

“I’m gonna tell mom you took her credit card to get Will his Christmas present!” Holly tries again, and Will looks between her and Mike in disbelief because he did not know Mike did such a thing, and he has thus far not received any present from Mike yet. Mike tenses up for a second, staring at Holly, who just pokes her tongue out at him.

He turns towards Will and moves so determinately that Will can’t help but startle when Mike grabs him by the neck of his wrinkled shirt and pulls him in. The press of their lips lasts less than three seconds; it’s barely a peck and Will isn’t even sure it happened when it’s done. Mike practically bolts out of the kitchen after that, footsteps echoing in Will’s ears as he heads for his bedroom.

And that’s what gives away how upset Mike truly is, because the basement is his comfort place. Their comfort place. The basement has an implied open door at all times, for all party members, but especially for Will. Mike going up to his room usually means he doesn’t want to be followed, doesn’t wanna hear any words, doesn’t wanna look at anyone.

Fuck. Will thought this was gonna get messy before, but it’s probably evolved to disastrous now… and he still has no idea why.

+ one

Mike thought he was doing the boyfriend thing right.

No, seriously, he was so confident about it. All semester, Mike’s tried his hardest to take it slow and steady. At first, he wasn’t sure whether he was being too subtle, if he was phrasing things right, if he was doing things right. But he figured, hey, Will’s smart. Will gets him, he’ll see that he’s trying and meet him halfway. And he did; Will leaned into his touch, looked up at him with those captivating hazel-green eyes of his shining with affection, took turns planning their dates to the movies and other outings.

The way their relationship has worked all their lives, they’ve never really needed to say what they’re thinking. They just knew, and acted accordingly, and okay, admittedly, sometimes it’s just creepy how they can tell what the other needs without saying it, but that’s just how in-sync they are.

Well, that’s just how in-synch they were, because now Mike has no fucking idea what is happening between him and Will. Things have been weird ever since that one frat party in early November, when he finally gathered the courage to kiss his boyfriend. Will’s been looking at him differently, his thoughts carefully hidden behind a curtain of uncertainty that made Mike scramble to make it better.

Flirt a little more, take him out on a few more dates, the normal stuff. Refill his coffee for him in the mornings before he can even think to request it, ask him to sleep with him more often because Will’s always been too shy and stubborn to ask himself, even when he needs the company. Kissing him more.

The second kiss was—well, Will didn’t have any stains. Mike just couldn’t stop thinking about the first, so he did it, and he thought that was fine, but the noise Will made, his face afterwards, just… he concluded that maybe Will just isn’t into kissing, which is okay, it’s cool, he doesn’t even know if Will’s kissed anyone before, maybe while he was living in Lenora. And regardless of if he has or hasn’t, Mike’s okay with Will not being into kissing because he still gets to hold Will at night and throw his arm around his shoulder in public, and watch him steal his sweaters and jackets while thinking he’s being subtle.

But then Will got sick and Mike panicked. It’s been years since he’d been so fucking scared for Will, quiet Will, sweet Will who doesn’t deserve any of the shit he’s been through, and for that matter, didn’t deserve any of the shit Mike put him through when he was still a dumb teen in denial, either. He’s been trying to apologize to him for years, some of his desperation slipping out during those days when he was the sickest, and he doesn’t know if Will knows and understands that. He thought he did. Now Mike isn’t so sure.

Maybe it’s weird that they’ve been dating like this, so quiet and delicate without really addressing it ever since they moved in together. But Mike was fine with that, too, has been fine with it all semester because he was just nervous. A little scared. He couldn’t bring himself to kiss Will without the rush of alcohol in his veins because of that, and besides, he’d only ever kissed El before and that didn’t always feel right. It was nice, but the idea of kissing her never made him feel as desperate and out of his depth as the idea of kissing Will did. And still does.

Mike wants to kiss Will even when he’s angry and upset at him, which doesn’t seem fair, because Will clearly isn’t as into it as Mike is, he always looks confused and startled when Mike does it and never reciprocates, never makes a move like that himself. And again, it’s fine, really, if Will isn’t into kissing, because Mike wasn’t that into kissing El either, so maybe it just—varies, or something.

Regardless, Mike thought he was doing fine in regards to everything else, he felt like a good boyfriend, and he doesn’t understand why Will would imply that he needs to keep his romantic prospects open. How fucked up is that? What did he do wrong? Maybe Mike got too clingy. Maybe he abused the kissing a little too much and Will got tired of it. He took Will out on anniversary dates, so it can’t be that.

God, he’s gonna go insane, he has no idea what Will is thinking and he doesn’t feel ready to hear it, because what if Mike’s read Will’s feelings all wrong all this time? What if—what if Will fell out of love with him, at some point, and Mike was too worried about being a good boyfriend to notice? And Will is too polite to just break up with him without a heads up. Maybe his comments last night, in front of all their friends, were just a sign for him to take a hint.

But, see, that doesn’t add up either, because Will chased after him, and kept asking what’s going on, if Mike was okay… holy shit, he’s just going in circles with this. And he can’t help but be furious, still, and he’s holding onto the feeling because it’s not fair that Will can just look at him and make Mike want to kiss the ground he walks on. It’s not fair that he’s upset and confused and heartbroken but he still wants to kiss Will until he’s out of breath.

So, Mike just bolts from the kitchen and heads back upstairs, a part of him is indescribably furious at how Will waited until Mike moved in for the kiss instead of just doing it himself. It’s just—not even a stupid mistletoe kiss? Will doesn’t even want something as simple as that?

This is gonna drive him mad.

Will is on his heels within seconds of Mike making his way upstairs, and he’s tempted to slam his door on him but physically can’t bring himself to do so, because he knows that Will would end up looking up at him with those wide teary eyes he has and Mike would fall to his knees and grovel, which really isn’t the point here.

God fucking damn it, he must’ve done something truly awful if Will can’t even say to him what the problem is, when Will has never had any issue calling him out before, even being brutally honest with him at times. Mike is entitled to be angry. He tries to convince himself of this despite how hard it is to be mad at Will, because he’s the one that had to hear his boyfriend of the last few months and best friend of forever imply that he’d like to have a few options outside of him.

Mike turns towards Will the second the door is closed and stares at his chin, finally deciding to speak his mind because fuck this shit. “What’s your problem?”

Will has the gall to look alarmed at Mike’s accusatory tone. “My problem? What is yours?”

“See, I don’t get it!” Mike gestures with his hands at Will, up and down his whole frame. “I just—I don’t get why you aren’t talking to me! Why aren’t you telling me what’s wrong? Why aren’t you telling me what I did wrong? You always do!”

“What?” Will’s expression screams of disbelief, his jaw slack with shock. But then, suddenly, there’s a switch, and Mike recognizes the way Will’s eyebrows furrow, how the corner of his mouth twists. Now he’s angry, too, and Mike has to physically steel himself, clenching his jaw to avoid giving in to him. “No, no, wait just a second, Mike, what—why are you pining this on me? Do you have any idea how confused I am right now? How weird the last two months have been for me? And you’ve never explained yourself! Why aren’t you talking to me?”

“What do you mean weird?!” Mike demands, forcing himself to straighten his back and square his shoulders. Will takes a step towards him, crossing his arms, making him swallow. “What do I have to explain?! I thought it was pretty obvious that I was just doing my best! I’ve been trying my best for months, I thought everything was fine, and now all of the sudden you come out with, with needing to keep options around like, like what, like I’m just a convenience for you? Is that all this means to you now?”

Will looks away from him, glancing around the room like he can’t quite believe the words out of Mike’s mouth. His expression is raw, defensive yet genuine, and the disbelief and bewilderment never leave it. “Mike, are you seriously telling me that this is all because you’re jealous? Are you joking? What makes you think you have any right to be jealous—”

Mike’s face feels hot with anger. “What makes you think I don’t have a right to be jealous, are you kidding me?!”

“My whole life can’t revolve around you, Mike!” Will snaps, reaches out, digs his fingers into his shoulder. Mike gets flashbacks to the previous arguments they’ve had like this, so similarly confusing and full of unfinished, unexplained emotions. But they’re a far-away echo, in comparison to the way his heart shatters at the words. “I already give you too much of myself, always have, I—I can’t give you this too, don’t you get that? I’ve been trying to move on and you aren’t letting me!”

Oh.

The fight leaves Mike with a rushed breath of realization. He didn’t—he hadn’t noticed this was the case. Or maybe he just didn’t want to think it. He thought he and Will were getting closer. He thought… he felt like things were going okay. How didn’t he put the pieces together before? This—okay. He never thought this would happen.

“So, what, it was—it was pity?” Mike asks, then clears his throat when he realizes how wet his voice is already. His eyes are prickling with tears he doesn’t want to shed. Will freezes at him, eyes widening, but Mike can’t bring himself to keep looking at him, setting his eyes on the floor instead. “The last few weeks, was it all—just, you were trying to let me down easy or something? Because I think spitting on my face would’ve been a lot better than this, just so you know.”

“What—” Will starts off sounding angry, but then he takes a second. “What do you mean by that?”

“You could’ve told me you don’t love me anymore,” Mike shakes his head, something about the words feeling sickeningly familiar. Maybe this is karma. “Like it would’ve—I would’ve understood. You didn’t have to—”

“Mike,” Will’s voice is fragile, all of the sudden. Mike’s gut instinct is to look at him, but he presses his lips together and pushes it down, sitting on his bed instead. He remembers last night, the way Will held onto him and begged him to stay. Was that all just an act? “Mike, I—I think there’s been a big misunderstanding here—”

And that makes him angry. “What is there to misunderstand? You’ve made yourself clear, you’ve been trying to break up with me and, and you haven’t been able to because I’ve been all over you—!”

“Break up with you?” Will’s voice is low, raspy. There’s a sniffle and Mike has to close his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers. If he looks at Will, he’ll break, and how is that fair? He’s the one getting broken up with. He doesn’t understand why Will can’t just fucking—get it over with. Rip off the goddamn band-aid. “Mike? I’m not doing that.”

“What?!” Mike snaps, burying his face in his hands and leaning on his knees. Jesus fucking Christ, Will is killing him. “You literally just said—”

“Mike, we aren’t dating.”

A pause. Mike lifts his head and stares at him. “Excuse me?”

Will looks like he just got his shit rocked. Mike wishes he had better words to describe his expression, but he’s genuinely never seen Will look this impacted, this bewildered about non-life-threatening situations. Will takes a single hesitant step towards the bed, and Mike is too baffled by the bullshit he just let out to do anything to stop him; Will sits down next to him. Their elbows brush.

“We aren’t dating,” Will repeats, staring straight ahead. And then he looks at Mike. “Mike, I’m not breaking up with you because we aren’t dating. Do you understand that?”

“No, I don’t,” Mike answers, and he realizes his voice’s softened—god, he can’t even hold it together against Will for five fucking seconds, can he? “I really don’t understand. Will, we’ve been dating all semester. What are you doing? Are you gaslighting me or something, because that’s seriously messed up—”

“What? No!” Will quickly denies, and Mike notices how he doesn’t look angry anymore either. He looks… confused, and Mike swallows down a few more petty words, because he’s never seen Will this unbalanced before. “Look, Mike, I’m just—I’m gonna need you to walk me through this, okay? You say we’ve been dating all semester. Why?”

“Because we have?” Mike asks, frowning at him. “I’ve literally been taking you out on dates every week, we share everything except our toothbrushes and shower time, we live together, we sleep in the same bed all the time, we—we cuddle, Will, I’ve undressed you like a million times, and—”

Mike is blushing. Will’s face isn’t any better. This isn’t anything new to him and from Will’s expression, he knows that Will can tell this isn’t anything new to him either. Because he’s lived it. But saying it out loud and listing it off like that practically throws into the spotlight how disgustingly in love Mike is with him, how intimate they’ve been over the last few months. It’s embarrassing, especially because Will is looking at him with wonder, now, with barely concealed affection.

Mike’s so confused. “And we kiss. Or, well—I kiss you, because you never do, and you never kiss back either and it’s like you don’t even like it, which is fine, just, I don’t know, you could’ve told me I was being too clingy—”

“Oh my god,” Will snorts, covering his mouth with his hand and shaking his head. Mike stares at him in disbelief because he’s going through something here and he doesn’t see how any of this is funny. “You think I don’t like kissing?”

“I think you don’t like me,” Mike presses his lips together, shaking his head and glancing away from Will, because acknowledging that hurts, it hurts like nothing’s ever done so before. Will’s smile has completely vanished when Mike looks back. “I think I—I’ve been making you unhappy and you never said anything, and I hadn’t caught up to it either—”

“No, no, Mike,” Will reaches out and wraps a hand around his wrist, hesitating before sliding it upwards to intertwine their fingers. Mike doesn’t even try to deny the contact because he’s weak, and Will’s looking at him with big, hopeful eyes. He feels like he’s going to miss something big if he as much as blinks. “It’s not that at all, it’s just… I didn’t know we were dating.”

Mike blinks. “What?”

“I had no idea we were dating,” Will reiterates, raising his eyebrows at him like he’s wondering if Mike hit his head as a child or something. Will should know that yeah, he did, actually, and so did he, so he doesn’t get the judgement. “I don’t—Mike, I don’t remember ever talking to you about dating. At all. Or even, like—I didn’t even know that you like men, Mike, much less so that you like me.”

“But…” Mike drifts off, shaking his head again in bafflement. What? How is that possible? He thought— “But I asked you to move in with me.”

Will opens and closes his mouth like he has no idea how to tackle that. “As a friend. As your best friend, right?”

“No?” Mike frowns at him, and turns his body towards Will, hunching over slightly. He squeezes Will’s hand in his own, licking his lips—he catches Will’s glance towards his mouth and feels like he’s getting whiplash, because he’s never noticed something like that before. What the fuck. “Will, I literally told you when I asked to go to college together and move into the same dorm that I wanted to—to spend the rest of my life with you. Together with you. Just us.”

“I thought you meant that platonically,” Will says, to which Mike’s mouth drops open. Will’s blushing furiously now. “You know, like, when we were kids…”

“I mean, yeah, like when we were kids,” Mike nods, and can’t help but snort the way Will did earlier, a little helpless, and most definitely breathless. “When we were kids and I had a crush on you and I was in denial about it, yeah. And like in sophomore year, when I—when I asked you if you wanted to start another party. Just you and me.”

“I… I mean, I thought that was just your way of… making up for that one summer, and that fight…” Will blinks repeatedly at him, bites his lip and god Mike can’t help but stare at it. He knows he has a problem. He has no intentions of fixing it. Will’s voice comes out embarrassed. “My eyes are up here.”

“I know,” Mike shrugs, and a part of him wants to get angry again as he processes all that Will is admitting. He… didn’t know they were dating. He thought they were just friends. Best friends. And they are, but Mike’s been operating under the assumption that they’re also so much more. Holy fucking shit. “Oh my god. I’ve been kissing you for weeks, Will—did you think I was just doing that platonically?!”

“I didn’t just think it!” Will tries to defend himself, but he’s fumbling now, visibly mortified at the idea that a kiss could be platonic on top of everything else that they do together. “I was concerned about it, actually! I thought you were confused about—about how the gay thing works!”

“I’m not a complete idiot!” Mike exclaims, but he’s having a hard time being mad instead of breaking down into hysterics, because— “Holy shit, you thought I was platonically fantasizing about you in a nurse outfit?!”

“Mike!” Will tries, but it’s too late—Mike is laughing. He attempts to stifle the sound with his hand, but it’s to no avail, because the laugh bubbles up from the depths of his chest and instantly makes him double over, breathless, his forehead landing on Will’s shoulder. “Michael, this isn’t funny!”

“Yes it is!” Mike shoots back, giggling a little and then letting out another laugh when Will scoffs. “Oh my god—you thought I was trying to platonically shove my tongue down your throat—”

“Don’t be crude, oh my god, you asshole!” Will tries to push him off, but Mike is leaning his whole weight into him and pushing him backwards on the bed, moving too much with his laughter and grabbing to his hand too hard. “You’re laughing too much for someone that just assumed we’re dating!”

“That’s not nearly as embarrassing,” Mike shakes his head, chuckling. “I thought—I thought you got it, Will, you always do. You always just… get me. It’s one of the many reasons why I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Will takes a deep breath, letting it out in a shaky exhale. “You’re in love with me.”

Mike straightens up and looks at him in the eye, and the final embers of his anger vanish at Will’s shocked, enchanted expression, like he can’t quite believe that’s true. Mike shakes his head and uses his free hand to hold Will’s face, his heart stuttering at the way he leans into the contact.

“I know I made you wait too long,” Mike says, because now he knows that Will didn’t get it before. So he’s going to make sure he gets it now. “Like—mortifyingly long, and I was—I was such an ass to you about it just because I was confused and scared and… and then I lost you. For a year, I lost you. But it was all messy back then, and you weren’t really living in Hawkins yet, and with, with the painting stuff—”

“God, don’t remind me,” Will shakes his head, letting out a little huff of an embarrassed laugh that makes Mike want to smother him with kisses. Maybe he’ll get to do that now, with some luck, without Will misinterpreting it. “I understand, Mike. I really do.”

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. It’s always been you,” Mike clarifies, because he knows Will needs to hear it. And the way his eyes gleam, almost completely green in the morning light, the way his lips tremble; it’s enough to make Mike swallow and stare in amazement. “Will, can I kiss you?”

The question seems to startle him, and then Will’s whole frame relaxes, like the final piece of the puzzle has settled in. “Yeah. Please.”

Mike is overeager. He leans in a little too hard, at least for how he wants the kiss to be—soft, loving, saying everything he’s going to be repeating for ages now—but Will’s hands grab the neck of his shirt and pull him in, embracing it, and Mike is floored because Will is kissing back, holy fucking shit, this is the best day of his life.

He grabs Will by the jaw and angles him just-so, their lips sliding together in a way that sends sparks all through Mike’s body, stealing a sharp breath from him. Will’s trembling but that might just be Mike, in all honesty, because he’s holding back so much—he’s been holding back for what feels like ages, ever since they moved into the dorm and he was too scared to make a move, ever since that first drunken kiss. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about how good it feels to kiss Will, to feel his slightly chapped lips against his own, to steal the breath from his lungs.

It’s kinda scary, how much he wants to consume him, drink him in. His hands stray, betraying the best of his intentions as they grasp onto Will’s shoulders, down his arms, feeling as his muscles tense up with the contact, shivering at the way Will gasps against his mouth. This should be sweet, it should be exploratory, and Mike is about ready to pull back and try again because he doesn’t want to mess things up—

But then Will parts his lips and teases him with his tongue and oh god, whoever said that Mike knows how to hold back anything? Whoever said that he knows what self-control is? Because now he’s chasing after that electrifying contact, parting Will’s lips and diving in like a man willingly jumping into the ocean to drown.

Will makes a sound, something between a gasp and a whine, and it’s like a gut-punch. Mike pulls back and stares at him, feeling like he’s floating, and Will doesn’t just stare back. No, he looks, and he licks his lips, and a couple blinks later Mike has to contend with the fact that Will’s straddling him and kissing him, tangling his hands in his hair and pulling it back to angle their lips properly, the way Mike’s always dreamed he would.

It’s—it’s getting out of hand and Mike honestly doesn’t know how to stop because this, this is the spark he’s been missing for the last couple months, the dot that puts the picture together in his head. He’s dating Will Byers, and it should feel so so wrong, but all Mike actually feels is Will’s saliva-slick lips and the way his cold hands fall to his neck, trying to pull him in closer, closer, like there’s any space left between them at all.

A break for air, and Will says: “God, I love you.”

Mike’s brain doesn’t have as many pretty words in it. “Please lose those guys’ numbers or I’ll throw myself in front of a bus.”

Will bursts out laughing but he’s nodding, mumbling okay, okay, sure as he leans in to kiss Mike again. This kiss is softer, a little more like what Mike intended in the beginning, but deeper—it allows him to squeeze Will’s hips in his hands and memorize every twitch to his body, every lovesick sigh against his mouth, almost obsessively categorizing what gives Will goosebumps and what makes him gasp.

The doorbell rings and scares them both into breaking apart. Mike stares at his closed bedroom door for a second, shaking his head, as Holly’s footsteps just about echo downstairs, on her way to open the front door. He feels lightheaded, and the only thing on his mind is how he wants to press Will against his pillows and make up for lost time. But Will’s standing up and pulling him with him, running a hand through Mike’s hair to try and make it look decent.

“You know,” Will comments, hands at Mike’s shoulders. Mike blinks down at him feeling like his head’s been wiped clean from any thoughts that aren’t his lips, and he stares at them as he speaks. “That first kiss you gave me was so awful.”

“What?” Mike’s eyes snap upwards to meet Will’s amused gaze, and he can’t help but scoff, blushing. “What do you mean it was awful? I thought it was cute!”

“Mike, you stank of beer and vodka,” Will snorts, and Mike stares in betrayal, shaking his head with disbelief. Will remains unbothered, and goes as far as to lean on his tiptoes to peck his lips. As if that makes up for anything—well, it kinda does, actually. “It was my first kiss ever, too! And then you kept making it gross with the mustard, and then I was sick, and drunk last night—”

“I hate you,” Mike bites back a smile, leaning down until their noses brush. Will swallows. “Guess I’ll just have to make up for lost time—"

“MICHAEL!” His mom’s voice rings from downstairs, and Mike flinches like he just heard nails against a chalkboard. “COME CLEAN UP YOUR DIRTY DISHES, YOUNG MAN!”

“God fucking damn it,” Mike grumbles, scrunching his nose at Will when all he does is laugh. “Have you got no compassion?”

“Just go,” Will rolls his eyes, giggling, pushing him towards the door. Mike feels the irrational urge to eat him up, which isn’t new, but it certainly is helped by the fact that now he feels free to corner Will against any wall to do so. “I’ll clean up here. Don’t think your mom would appreciate having to pick my pants up from the floor.”

Mike shrugs. “I mean, she knows we’re dating.”

Silence. “Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“How many people think we’ve been dating all this time?”

Uh. “Everyone? I think?”

“Oh my god,” Will lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re crazy, aren’t you?”

Mike pouts, reaching out to take Will’s hand and pressing his lips against his knuckles. “I mean, crazy together, right?”

Will melts. His smile is the brightest thing Mike’s ever seen. “Yeah. Crazy together.”

All in all, Mike figures this year’s holidays could’ve gone a lot worse.

extra

“Mike?”

“Yeah?”

“When are you gonna show me the binder?”

A sniff, the rustling of bedsheets, and then: “I gotta go, actually—”

“Michael—”

“William.”

A sigh. “Guess I’m not giving you my Christmas gift then.”

“…Christmas gift?”

“I might have found this one nurse costume in a thrift shop…”

“Holy shit, seriously?”

“What do you think, Mike?” Laughter. “Of course not.”

“Oh,” a pause. “Well, now I’m definitely not showing you the binder. Or giving you your Christmas present—”

“You’re insufferable.”

“I love you too.”