Archive of Our Own ^beta

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The light in Mike and Will’s bedroom is dim, only coming from the small lamp on their bedside table and the twinkling Christmas lights that Will had strung up on the wall around their headboard when they first moved in.

​After…Well, everything, really, Will didn’t like the darkness. Especially at bedtime. When they had first moved in together and started sharing a bed, Mike had quickly noticed that the darker the room was, the more likely Will was to have a nightmare. After making the connection about Will’s discomfort in the dark, Mike decided that they would be sleeping with the lights on going forward.

​
Will had noticed what Mike was up to right away, of course, and at first, he had worried that having the lights on would make it harder for Mike to sleep. Self-sacrificing as always. But Mike was determined. The first night Mike left them on, Will had protested, trying to get out of bed to turn them off himself. Mike had had to grab Will’s arm to keep him from leaving the bed, trying his best to assure Will quickly and adamantly that he didn’t mind the lights being on in the slightest. And he may have made his best puppy dog eyes pouty face, which he knew that Will was powerless against. He wanted Will to be happy. Sue him.

​
If Mike is being honest, he has grown to prefer sleeping with the lights on. They've become just another piece of the comfortable domesticated familiarity they share with each other now. Just another part of sleeping with Will. The lights always cast their bedroom in a warm, cozy yellow glow, and when Mike is cuddled up next to Will or watching him as he sleeps peacefully, it's hard to mind anything at all, really.

​
Besides, the lights make it easier to see Will, and Mike doesn't think he'll ever get tired of looking.

​
Looking at Will has always been a comfort to Mike. Especially after he went missing. For Mike to be able to see Will smile, and to know that he is finally in a place where he is happy more often than sad is the single greatest thing in Mike's world. And maybe it's weird, but Mike also simply enjoys seeing Will’s breathing. To watch his boyfriends chest rise and fall was comforting, to know that he was safe and alive beside him was everything.

​
But Mike also loves looking at Will simply because he's pretty. God, he's fucking gorgeous.

​
Looking at Will and knowing that he is his sometimes makes it hard for Mike to breathe. Mike finds every version of Will breathtaking. Will—hands covered in paint after a long day working on his latest painting. Will—fresh out of the shower, water dripping down his chest, wet hair still clinging to his forehead. Will—flushed, breathing heavily on their bed, lips swollen from kissing, soft, happy sounds of pleasure escaping his lips.

​
Mike revels in every new version of Will he is lucky enough to see. But sleepy Will is probably his favorite.

​
He loves seeing his boyfriend all soft and comfy, relaxed. He loves Will’s plaid pajama pants that are just a bit too long for him. He loves the ratty Star Wars T-shirt that he had given Will years ago, which Will refused to give up, even though it has grown much to small for him and it's getting more worn by the day. He loves the way Will’s hair sticks out in every which way after sleeping, and how his eyes are always a bit swollen from sleep when he first wakes up, and the way they meet Mike's when the wake up in the morning. Crinkled in a sleepy smile.

​
Mike looks up at Will now. The Christmas lights bathe him in a golden glow, light catching his long eyelashes as he reads aloud.

​
God. Will’s eyelashes.

They're so long that they practically brush his cheeks when he blinks. Mike didn’t even know it was possible for eyelashes to be so long, but here his boyfriend is, proving him wrong again.

​
After another moment of staring, Mike realizes that he has been zoning out, and he hasn’t been paying attention to anything going on around him for several minutes.

​
Mike blinks hard a couple of times, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them wide again, trying to wake himself up from his shameless daydreaming, trying to pull his focus back to the present moment. Back to Will’s voice.

​
Will is reading aloud from the third book in the Lord of the Rings series, Return of the King. They’ve been working their way through the series together for the last few weeks, each taking turns reading aloud before bed each night. They’ve both read the series countless times, of course, but neither of them ever seem to grow tired of it, and the routine has quickly become one of their favorite ways to spend the evenings.

​
Mike thinks that there couldn’t possibly be a better way to enjoy this story than with Will, reading aloud, experiencing the story together in real time. He loves that they are able to set the book down and discuss what's happening in the story right then and there, and that the no longer have to wait until the next time they see each other to talk about it. He loves laughing with Will at Merry and Pippin’s antics and the time that they cried together as Gandalf fell from the Bridge of Khazad-dûm.

​
Tonight is Will’s turn to read. He’s sitting propped up, leaning against his pillow and the headboard, with Mike leaning against his shoulder– still only half listening.

​
“Sam shuddered and tried to force himself to move.” Will read, “There was plainly some devilry going on. Perhaps in spite of all orders the cruelty of the orcs had mastered them, and they were tormenting Frodo, or even savagely hacking him to pieces. He listened; and as he did a gleam of hope came to him. There could not be much doubt: there was fighting in the tower, the orcs must be at war among themselves, Shagrat and Gorbag had come to blows.

​
At this point, Will has been reading aloud for about an hour, and his voice is starting to sound sleepy and a bit hoarse. Mike thinks he sounds nice like this, relaxed. Cute. It’s almost enough to lull Mike to sleep; he can feel his eyelids growing heavier as he listens.

​
Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to close his eyes for just a minute. He knows Will won’t fault him for it if he drifts off. He lets out a small contented sigh, feeling so happy to be here with Will.

​
They moved into their first apartment together about a month ago, and Mike is still getting used to the fact that they are actually living together now. The fact that he gets to wake up every morning curled up in Will’s arms before they both leave for work. He loves the closeness of it all. He loves that if Will had a nightmare, he doesn’t have to bear it alone or call Mike on his walkie like they used to when they were kids. Now, Mike was always right there to help him realize where he is and that he’s safe. That they are all safe. Vecna has been gone for years now, and all that’s left of him are the memories lingering on in each of their minds.

​
After everything Mike and Will have been through, this unfamiliar ease they’ve managed to build together feels like everything Will has always deserved. He has earned this—his happiness, his life. No one deserves to be happy more than Will.

​
These kinds of thoughts often pop into Mike’s brain in quiet moments like this–Calm and quiet, comfortable. Gratitude always comes to mind. Gratitude that they’re together now, that they are finally safe.

​
The thought alone makes Mike feel emotional for a second. A small, misty-eyed smile crosses his face. Mike feels so happy that it’s almost overwhelming. Can people die from being happy? If so, this whole ‘living with Will’ situation might actually be a bad idea, but if he's being totally honest, it doesn't sound like the worst way to go.

​
He snuggles a bit closer to Will’s side now, letting out a small hum, and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend a bit tighter, trying once again to pull his thoughts back to the room, to the sound of Will’s voice, and the words in their shared story.

​
“Faint as was the hope that his guess brought him, it was enough to rouse him. There might be just a chance. His love for Frodo rose above all other thoughts, and forgetting his peril he cried aloud: 'I'm coming, Mr. Frodo!'”

​
A thought pops into Mike’s head.

​
“Hey, Will?” He says quietly, his voice is a bit scratchy from disuse, so he clears his throat, trying to make his voice sound normal again.

​
Will stops reading and relaxes his arms. He lets the book rest in his lap as he turns to look at Mike. “Hmm?” He says, placing a small kiss to the top of Mike’s forehead. Mike’s eyes fall shut. He hums again, smiles, reveling in the touch before continuing to speak.

​
“Have you ever noticed how gay Sam and Frodo are for each other?” Mike blurts out with a small laugh. “I mean, come on, think about what you just read. ‘His love for Frodo rose above all other thoughts.’ All other thoughts? Like all of them? That doesn’t really sound like a straight thing to say…?”

​
Will lets out a small chuckle and shakes his head at Mike fondly. “Um...Yeah, no. I actually think that it's a pretty popular theory that these two are meant to be queercoded.” Will pauses, shaking his head again, a full laugh escaping him now. “I mean..Sam calls Frodo 'Dear' for fuck’s sake. Have you ever called any of your straight friends ‘Dear’? Like picture it, Lucas or Dustin, would you call either of them dear? It’s not exactly platonic.”

​
Mike stares up at Will for a moment, connecting dots in his head. “Wow. You’re so right! That’s gay as hell! How have I never noticed this before?”

​
Will laughs and stares back at Mike with a dumbfounded look on his face. His jaw drops open in disbelief. “You’ve literally never thought about this before? Oh my god. It felt so obvious to me.”

​
“Well, not to me apparently.” Mike can hear the defensiveness creeping into his own voice.

​
Will is still looking at him with that dumbfounded expression. Mike can feel his own cheeks starting to flush with embarrassment.

​
“What?! Why are you still looking at me like that?” he pouts.

​
“Like what?!” Will says, holding his hand over his mouth, clearly trying to suppress a giggle.

​
“You’re looking at me like you think I’m dumb or something,” Mike says, crossing his arms in mock anger.

​
Will gives him a teasing look in reply. A look that maybe says, well, you are a little dumb sometimes.

​
Mike tries to keep a straight face, to continue this ruse of indignation, but it’s impossible when Will is looking at him like this. Will’s right. Mike can be a little dumb sometimes. He allows his face to split apart into a smile, and he shakes his head, laughing a bit at his own stupidity.

​
“I don’t know! I guess I always just thought they were really close friends! You know? Like best friends?”

​
“Oh! Like us, you mean?” Will says with a smirk. He sets the book facedown on the bed, finished reading for now, and brings his now free hands up to do quotation marks. “We’re friends. We’re friends.” He says in a playfully mocking tone, bringing back the memory of that day at Rink-o-mania. Looking back, Mike can see that maybe he’d been underestimating his feelings, just a little.

​
He blushes a bit now, feeling embarrassed by the memory. Embarrassed by how blind to his own feelings he had been during that Spring break, and during the summer of ‘85, and forever really, if he’s being honest.

​
He covers his face with his hands, “Oh God, I’m such an idiot,” he cringes.

​
Will giggles, looking at Mike with a fond and teasing expression. “You can be a little oblivious sometimes.”

​
Mike gives a self-deprecating smile and shakes his head, relenting. “A little?” He says, looking up at Will through his eyelashes. Will looks down at Mike, his fond expression growing even more.

​
Mike sees the moment that a thought pops into Will’s head. His expression has grown a bit more serious. He looks like he’s about to say something, but maybe isn’t quite sure how to say it? So Mike waits patiently while Will tries to gather his words.

​
Right when Mike thinks maybe he’s imagined the whole thing, Will begins to speak.

​
“You know something? I used to think about Sam and Frodo a lot before we got together. Their friendship kind of reminded me of ours. They're always really tender with each other, soft, you know? And they act differently around each other than they do with their other friends. Kind of like we used to.”

​
Will smiles, some unknown memory taking his attention for a moment. “Sam especially. He reminds me of you.”

“What? Really?” Mike says, fully sitting up now, propping himself up against the pillows and the headboard, so he can look at Will more easily. “Why?”

​
“It’s just that,” Will looks shy all of a sudden. “He’s so protective of Frodo, you know? He’s always there, never leaving his side, even when things get hard, like when they’re at Mount Doom, remember? Frodo is losing every last ounce of his strength; it seems like everything might be over for them, but then Sam literally carries him the rest of the way. And even though Sam is scared, he does what he needs to do. He chooses to be brave. Brave for both of them. And that’s so much like you. You’ve always been so protective of me.”

​
A twinge of guilt flares in Mike’s stomach at the word always, but he pushes it aside for now, trying to listen to Will, ignoring the thoughts that come to mind about times when Will needed him, and he wasn’t there.

Will’s cheeks flush a bit. “You’ve always been such a good friend to me; you're always checking in to see if I'm okay. You used to do it all the time when we were kids.” He smiles, becoming more animated as he makes his point. “Like that one Halloween when I had that episode. I had run off, and I don’t even really know where I was or how I got there or how you managed to find me as quickly as you did. But you did. You always did.” Will rambles on, offering more praises that Mike knows he doesn’t deserve.

​
“Anyway, I had somehow made it all the way onto someone’s back patio, and I was so scared because I had just seen–”

​
Will abruptly stops talking, something in him quickly shutting down and folding in on itself. Mike can feel the immediate shift in energy. The comfortable quiet of the evening turns into something darker, colder.

​
It’s been a while since either of them has brought up the subject of...well, everything that happened back then. That horrible night in ‘83 when everything changed, and all of the shit that came after.

​
What’s there to talk about, really? Vecna’s long gone now—finally, and The Upside Down has been destroyed for years. It’s over. They both know that.

Even though it’s a thought that Mike has to remind himself of often. It’s over.

​
But October is ending, and the anniversary of Will’s vanishing is getting closer and closer. Coming quicker than Mike wants to think about, and the subject has undoubtedly been on Will's mind as much as it has been on his.

​
For the last week, Mike has been wanting to check in with Will, but he hasn’t been sure of the right time until now. He always tries to let Will lead the way when it comes to these conversations, but since Will's just been the one to bring it up, Mike decides it’s safe to try to rip the band-aid off–to open the conversation up the rest of the way.

​
​“The mindflayer?” Mike asks gently.

​
Will’s eyes meet Mike’s. “Yeah.” He says softly.

​
Mike can already tell that Will’s starting to shut down. He’s gone quiet. His previous points about Sam and their shared book forgotten.

​
Mike reaches over to take one of Will’s hands in his own and squeezes gently. “How are you doing with…you know…everything? Have you been thinking about it much?”

​
Will takes a deep, slightly shaky breath. “A little.” He says after a moment.

​
He’s still so quiet.

​
Mike nods, trying to meet Will’s gaze, but his boyfriend's eyes have drifted down to look at their intertwined fingers.

​
Mike waits, wondering if Will is going to say more, but after another moment of silence, he decides to break it.

​
“Me too.” He says quietly.

​
“You have?” Will asks, not looking up. His gaze is still locked on their hands.

​
“Of course,” Mike says, his eyes following Will’s down to the spot where his thumb is rubbing circles on Will’s hand.

​
Will’s pretty artist hands, his long, slender fingers wrapping around Mike’s own, tan skin covered in little flecks of paint from his afternoon working in his studio.

Mike decides to speak again, the lack of eye contact leading him to feel a little more brave about this moment of vulnerability between them than he normally would be. Talking about these things seems easier tonight, so he continues.

​
“Sometimes it’s all I can think about. Especially around this time of year.”

​
Will nods, understanding, but saying nothing. A silence settles between them again. They both sit there together for a moment, nothing but the sound of their breathing and the hum of the fan in their bedroom. The white noise reminds Mike of static, causing a memory to stir.

​
It’s almost like he’s back his old basement now, listening to the sound of a small voice, a shiver, a song sung by a smaller version of his best friend. The sound of Will’s breathing coming through a staticky walkie. It all feels so real.

​
Then another memory flashes across Mike’s mind. The image of a small body being pulled from the cold quarry water, tinted blue and limp.

​
It’s too much. Mike doesn’t want to remember that night. Maybe he's changed his mind. Maybe he doesn't walk to talk about all of this after all. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to clear the image from his mind.

​
But Will has already clocked Mike’s shift in expression, and it’s too late to take it back now.

​
Will lifts his hand up to cup it against Mike’s cheek. “Hey…what’s wrong?” He coos softly.

​
Will. His will. Kind to a fault. Always caring about everyone else, never thinking about himself.

​
Mike still hasn’t opened his eyes, but he isn’t squeezing them shut as tightly as he was before, either, but he can still feel emotion starting to creep up his throat, and he knows that Will can probably see that on his face too.

​
Mike really doesn’t want to cry right now. He feels so frustrated with himself. This was supposed to be about checking in with Will, and now Mike can feel the threat of tears burning in his own eyes. This is supposed to be about Will, and now Mike is making everything about himself.

​
Mike takes a couple of deep breaths to steady himself before he speaks again, pushing it down, trying to take back control of the conversation–of his feelings.

​
“It’s nothing, I’m fine. Just a stupid thought. It’s nothing…really.” He lets out a little laugh and a smile that he can tell isn’t quite reaching his eyes. He’s trying to erase the awful tension growing in the room, but his laugh sounds forced—fake, even to his own ears. Mike already knows that Will is going to see right through him, like always.

​
Sure enough, Will’s face is serious. “Mike.”

​
Shit.

​
Will’s eye contact is pointed. Mike can practically see their shared phrase friends don’t lie in his expression.

​
Part of Mike wants to try to push this away again, to insist that nothing is wrong, and attempt to change the subject again, to beg Will to please just keep reading and forget about all of it. He desperately wants to think about something else. Anything else.

But...

​
...he has been trying to be better at talking about his feelings ever since Will told him on more than one occasion that he’s noticed Mike tending to go inward with his feelings.

​
Mike doesn’t want to end up like his parents. Always pushing their feelings down, ignoring them, drinking, and wallowing, and never talking about it. Never fixing it.

​
Also, in a strange way, it almost feels like Mike is helping Will right now. Helping to distract Will from his own dark thoughts by telling Will about his. Allowing Will to be the one taking care of him. He knew Will liked to feel needed.

​
It was too late to take it all back now. He owes it to both Will and himself to try to talk about this, so he takes a deep breath and pushes himself forward.

​
“It’s just a bad memory.” He begins slowly. “Did you know that I um..I guess I mean we…um…the party and El, that is...we saw your... um...” he pauses, trying to gather courage to say the next word, but he quickly realizes he can’t say it, so he tries to phrase his sentence differently.

​
“We were um...you know the quarry? Well, we were at the quarry...that night…the night they thought they found you…or your…um,” he trails off again, still trying to keep his emotions at bay, though it's getting harder the longer he speaks.

​
The word he can’t bring himself to say is screaming in his mind.

​
Body. Will’s tiny, cold body being pulled from the water right in front of his eyes.

​
It had all looked so wrong. Will’s body, limp and lifeless in that policeman's arms.

​
It doesn’t matter that the body ended up being a fake; they had all seen it. They had all thought it was real in that moment, and to this day, Mike can’t seem to shake the image from his mind.

​
Understanding begins to dawn on Will’s face, his eyes growing wide with horror.

​
“What?” He says quietly, “You saw…? Wait, how? You guys were there? Why? Why were you there?”

​
Mike nods, voice starting to quiver a bit despite his best efforts to keep himself calm.

​
“We were out looking for you. We had been doing that a lot during that week you were missing. We would sneak out at night with our bikes and look for you, for as long as we could. But that night...um...El had brought us to your house. She said you were there, but we couldn’t find you, and she kept insisting that you were. Or maybe she was just being quiet? I don't know. I can’t really remember everything; that whole night is kind of fuzzy, honestly. But, yeah, that’s when we heard the sirens…”

​
He meets Will’s gaze now. His boyfriend is watching him intently as he speaks, and it feels like Will’s eyes are boring into his very soul; hanging onto every word, every new piece of information from their shared story.

​
“We…um...we followed them to the quarry to see what was happening. It took us a while to get there, and when we did, they were already…um…they were…pulling your…bo–” He stutters over that awful word again. He can hear how bad his voice is shaking now, and now his hands are beginning to tremble, but he forces himself to choke the words out. “Your…body.”

​
There. He said it. The words taste bitter on his tongue, but at least he managed to finally say them.

​
“We saw them pull your body out of the water. All of us. We saw it.” Another deep shuddering breath escapes him.

Will’s eyes have gotten watery now, and when Mike sees this, his eyes start to mist over as well.

​
Fuck.

​
“Oh my god. Mike, I’m so sorry.” Will whispers softly, gently.

​
The empathy and kindness in Will’s expression breaks something in Mike, and there’s no stopping the tears now, so Mike finally stops trying to hold them back.

​
“It’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.” He whispers. “The worst thing, Will. You looked so small…so small and so cold. I had never felt more helpless in my life than I did right then. It was like I was frozen for a second. I couldn’t do anything.”

​
He pauses before emphasizing, “I couldn’t do anything, Will. That whole week was just so…”

​
He wipes his cheek with the back of his hand, realizing that he’s crying in earnest now. His voice sounds thick and hiccupy, but he continues.

​
“You went through so much back then, Will…so much horrible shit that you didn't deserve to go through. Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about what happened to you in there. In that place.”

​
He shudders, growing angry. A small fire of rage starts to burn inside him. He’s gritting his teeth now. “I think about what Vecna…about what he….About what that fucking monster…” he spits out, choking on a small sob. He looks up at Will, patient, kind, and caring Will. His Will, who is watching Mike with sympathetic eyes, not fearing his anger, or judging it, even though Will has far more reason to be angry about this than Mike ever will. Will, who is content to sit and wait for Mike to finish saying everything he needs to say.

​
Mike knows he will never deserve him.

​
Mike swallows and forces the rest of his words out. “I think about what he fucking did to you…” He finally manages, his voice trailing off, barely a whisper now. He lifts his hand and strokes gentle fingers down Will’s throat now, trying to ground himself.

​
When did it get so hard to breathe?

​
“You didn’t deserve any of it, Will. You’ve been violated in ways I can’t even begin to imagine. I just wish I could have been there for you, could have stopped it somehow. I don’t know. God…Will. You were so little.” He pauses for a moment before repeating himself. “So little.”

Tears are falling faster down Mike’s cheek now. He squeezes his eyes shut, attempting to stop them. His breathing is going shallower, and a panicky feeling is starting to overwhelm him, when he feels Will’s hand touch his shoulder.

​
“Mike,” Will says, trying to make eye contact.

​
Mike tries to slow his breathing, tries to listen to the soothing sound of his boyfriend's voice, but something in him is still unable to meet his boyfriend's eyes.

​
“Mike, will you please look at me?” Will tries again, gently.

​
After a moment, Mike lifts his gaze. Ebony eyes meet Hazel.

​
“You were little too,” Will says with a softness that Mike knows he doesn't deserve. Not after everything.

​
Mike shakes his head, already trying to argue. “Will, No. This isn’t about me. You had it…so much worse. I can’t even imagine...” He stops speaking, knowing that his voice is going to give out again if he tries to continue. His breathing has started to come fast enough that now he can’t concentrate on anything else.

​
“Shhhhh.” Will whispers as he grabs Mike’s shoulders. He lowers his head to try to lock eyes with Mike, and when their eyes finally do meet again, Will takes a deep breath in, urging Mike to do the same. So Mike tries to follow. His breaths are short and shaky at first, but as they sit together sharing breaths, they eventually begin to slow again.

​
“I’m sorry,” Mike says after a moment.

​
Mike can see a small smile breaking out across Will’s face now as he lifts one of his hands and brings it up to wipe his thumb across one of Mike’s tear-soaked cheeks.

“Don’t be, please. God knows you’ve talked me down from panic attacks often enough. It feels good to switch things up for a change.” Will says, smiling gently.

“But I’m making you worry about me, and this was supposed to be about you. I was trying to check in with you. I wanted to know how you were feeling about everything. I wanted to know if you were thinking about the anniversary. Or having a hard time. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay, I guess.” Mike trails off. He knows he’s rambling now.

“Mike, seriously? You’re just…” Will trails off, trying to find the right words.

​
“Just?” Mike says after a moment. Always impatient.

​
“Just. I don’t know. Good? Like so good, Mike. You just care so much. You always have. You’ve always made me feel so safe and loved, just like Sam does for Frodo. That’s what I was trying to say earlier.”

​
Always. There’s that word again.

​
The word that always brings back that familiar twist of guilt. Memories start to flood back into his brain faster than he can stop them—Images of a storm, a failed D&D campaign, it’s not my fault you don’t like girls, a destroyed castle in the woods, Will crying in the back of that damn pizza van while Mike said nothing, did nothing. All these horrible things happened to Will because of him. As if Will didn’t have enough to worry about back then. Mike had made it so much worse.

​
He crumples, feeling the shame wrack through him. “No Will. Don’t say that. Please don’t say that. I’m not good. I’m not…I was…” He takes another deep breath.

​
“I was so awful to you. I made you feel so alone. I made you feel like I didn’t care; I treated you like shit. Over and over and over again. After everything you had been through. I made it worse for you.”

​
Mike hangs his head, unable to meet Will’s eyes any longer. “I’ll never forgive myself.” He says, barely a whisper.

​
“Hey, no. Stop. We’ve talked about this.” Will says, touching Mike’s chin, gently lifting it, willing Mike to meet his gaze again. Mike does so, hesitantly.

​
“You were internalizing so much, back then.” Will continues, “You've already apologized so many times, Mike. You know I’ve already forgiven you for all of that stuff. You have to forgive yourself, too. Okay? Please?” Will asks.

​
Mike doesn’t say anything. Will is the one who is good, not him.

​
Will. His sweet Will.

​
“Mike. Can you try?” Will pleads again. “Can you try to forgive yourself, if not for yourself, then can you at least try to do it for me? I hate seeing you hurting like this.”

​
Will’s eyes are soft. Almost doe like, still shiny with tears. Will has been crying right alongside Mike for almost the entire conversation, his empathy never allowing anyone to cry alone in his presence. It’s one of the things Mike loves most about him. He never lets his friends hurt alone.

​
Mike notices a tear that has gotten stuck in Will’s eyelashes, and he can’t help but think about how pretty Will looks when he cries. Of course he does. Will looks pretty doing everything, and right now, Mike thinks he’d agree to do just about anything Will asked him to. Maybe even try to forgive himself. Even if he doesn’t know how. Even if he’s not even sure he means it. He thinks he at least means it enough to try.

​
So he nods, slowly.

​
But Will’s eyes are still on him, his expression solemn. He’s pressing, not ready to let this go with a simple nod from Mike.

​
Mike can tell how important this is to Will, and it causes his heart to flutter in his chest.

​
“Promise?” Will says.

​
Mike smiles and brings Will’s hand up to his lips to kiss it. He nods again, eyes closed, his lips never leaving Will’s hand. “Promise.” He whispers against skin.

​
Will seems to visibly relax at Mike’s words. “Good.” He smiles and lets his eyes drift closed, leaning his head back against the headboard as Mike peppers kisses across his hand and then slowly up his arm.

​
“Can you promise me something too?” Mike says, kissing Will’s bicep.

​
“Hmm?” Will hums, eyes still closed.

​
“Promise you won’t ever do it again?”

​
Will looks a bit concerned now. “Do what?”

​
“Go where I can’t follow?” Mike says, with a cheesy smile.

​
Will immediately recognizes the Samwise quote, and rolls his eyes. But he's smiling wide enough that Mike knows he liked it. “You are such a nerd, Mike.”

“So is that a promise, then, my sweet cleric?” Mike says, going back to kissing Will’s arm.

​
“See, now you’re just proving my point." Will says, his cheeks turning a rosy pink at the nickname. "But yes. It’s a promise.”

​
They sit in silence for another moment, Will letting Mike kiss his way up to his shoulder before speaking again, “Can I apologize for something, too?”

​
Mike lets out a breathy laugh against Will’s skin. He’s kissing Will’s neck now and can feel his boyfriend's voice vibrating against his lips as he speaks.

“What could you possibly have to apologize for?” Mike hums, the kissing becoming a nice distraction from the heavy conversation they’d just had.

​
Will’s breath hitches as Mike starts sucking gently at a sensitive spot on his neck, just below his ear.

​
“I’m sorry I called you my ‘Tammy’ that day at the squawk. That was like the stupidest thing I’ve ever said.” Will says, slightly breathy.

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Mike pulls back and meets Will’s eyes once more, a smile growing on his own face. “Yeah, that was a pretty stupid thing for you to say.”

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Will rolls his eyes and brings his hands up to tangle themselves in Mike’s hair, sending shivers down his back at the contact.

​
Will gives it a gentle tug now as he pulls Mike in closer. “Shut up.” He says with no real bite. His gaze softens, eyes dipping down to look at Mike’s lips.

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Suddenly, the thought of kissing his boyfriend is the only thing on Mike's mind.

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“Will? Will, can I kiss you, please?” He asks.

​
After everything, he always asks. Always. And to Mike’s overwhelming joy, Will says yes.

​
He says yes.

​
Kissing Will is the best thing he’s ever done.

​
They lay together like that for several minutes, kissing each other lazily, both too sleepy to do much more, but when Will’s fingers inevitably give Mike’s hair a harder tug, it manages to pull a whiny moan from his lips that is downright embarrassing. Will doesn’t tease him, though; he just smiles into the kiss, like he’s reveling in his ability to make Mike sound like that.

​
The kiss begins to deepen then, and heat starts to build low in Mike’s stomach. Maybe he isn’t feeling as tired as he thought he was.

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Will shifts his legs, trying to lean closer into the kiss, and Mike wraps one of his own over Will, moving to sit in his boyfriend’s lap when a THUMP from the floor causes both of them to jump.

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“Shit! What was that?” Mike asks, still breathing heavily from kissing.

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Will leans over the side of the bed and pulls their book back up from where it’s fallen to the floor.

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“Um…I think we lost our page,” Will says with a giggle.

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Mike reaches over and takes the book from Will, placing it on the nightstand next to his glasses. “It’s okay. We’ve read it before anyway.”

​
Will smiles and allows Mike to pull him back in for another kiss.

​
And when Will’s lips part again, and his tongue grazes gently against Mike’s own, Mike can’t help but silently thank the universe or god or whoever the fuck may be bothering to listen that they get to have this. This beautiful, crazy life they’ve managed to build.

​
Together.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ☼ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾˖⁺‧₊˚